


Aftermaths

by geri_chan



Series: Always [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 822,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geri_chan/pseuds/geri_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The various characters deal with the aftermath of the war; Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore adjust to being a family. Originally archived on Ink Stained Fingers on 03/27/04.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hob comes from the series of Hob books written by William Mayne.
> 
> The underage warning is for a few scenes of Theodore/Blaise, who are seventeen at the time of the story (sixteen in one flashback scene). 
> 
> This was written pre-HBP, so Blaise is essentially an OC.

"Well, this is it," Lupin said as they entered the cottage. It looked rather dilapidated from the outside, with peeling paint and weathered wood, but the inside looked sturdier and more welcoming. It was much smaller than either Dylan or Theodore--who had grown up living in mansions--were used to, and the furnishings were a little worn and shabby, but it seemed somehow cozy and homey, if a bit dusty.

"I haven't spent much time here in the past couple of years," Lupin said apologetically as he ran a finger down the wall and grimaced slightly at the grime his finger collected. "I'm afraid we'll have to do a bit of cleaning after we get you settled in."

"It's fine, Professor," Theodore assured him. A little dust was a small price to pay to live with people who cared about him, in a place where he didn't have to walk on eggshells and try to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible so as not to trigger one of his father's rages. Of course, that hadn't really helped; if his father was in a bad mood, he would vent his anger on Theodore no matter how quiet and well-behaved he was. Sometimes even when he was in a good mood, he would cast a hex or curse at Theodore when he wanted to try out a new spell, or just for the sheer pleasure of it. Theodore had never really felt safe or relaxed in his own home; Thaddeus Nott, like his friend Andreas Avery, was sadist. Had been a sadist. Theodore reminded himself that his father was dead, and that Lupin and Snape were his guardians now; he was still a bit dazed by it all.

"It's fine, Professor," Dylan said, echoing his friend's words; he seemed to be taking everything in stride, but then, apparently he had known about the Professors' secret relationship for quite some time now. "We'll help you clean up; a few cleaning spells should set the place right in no time."

Theodore nodded in agreement. In the past, he would have balked at performing "house-elf work" like any proper pureblood and future Death Eater would. But he was so grateful to be here--and to be spared the fate of becoming a Death Eater--that he would gladly have scrubbed the entire house with soap and water and no use of magic at all if Lupin asked it of him. 

Lupin smiled at the boys. "Then let me show you to your room, and you can get settled in. It's down this way." He opened a door and led them down a short flight of stairs into a dark room. "Lumos," he said, and a light fixture set into the ceiling brightened the room. "This used to be the basement, so there are no windows in here," he said, sounding a little apologetic. "I converted it into a bedroom a couple of years ago when my friend Sirius came to stay with me. You turn the lights on with the command word 'Lumos' and off with 'Infusco'. Oops." 

The room went dark again, and Lupin hastily said, "Lumos," and the lights came back on. There were two beds in the room--one looked old and worn, like most of the furniture upstairs, while the other looked new--as well as a dresser, a wardrobe, a small desk and chair, and a nightstand between the two beds. "I hope you don't mind sharing the room," Lupin said anxiously. "There's only one bedroom upstairs."

"It's fine, Professor," Dylan said with a smile. "We're used to sharing rooms in the dorm at school."

Theodore was staring wide-eyed at the deep scratches carved into the walls. "What are those?" he asked.

Lupin flushed. "I made those, I'm afraid. This is where I used to lock myself up for safekeeping during the full moon, before the Wolfsbane Potion was invented." Now both boys were staring at the walls in shock; Lupin was always so kind and gentle that it was difficult to picture him as a werewolf, particularly one vicious and out-of-control during the full moon. Even when he had taken wolf form on the battlefield, he had acted only to protect the students and Snape. 

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, sounding apologetic again, and his words came out in a rush, the sentences running together, and the boys had trouble following what he was saying. "Everything happened so quickly that I didn't really have time to get the house in order; we were making the arrangements to become Theodore's guardians, of course, but we didn't know that Dylan would be living with us until yesterday; Albus was kind enough to have a second bed delivered right away. I'm sure we can repair the scratches, or maybe paint over them or cover them with wallpaper or--"

Snape, who had been silent up until now, interrupted in an amused and suprisingly gentle voice, "Lupin, you're babbling."

Lupin blinked in surprise. "Am I?" Then he smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I suppose I am; I guess I'm a little nervous. I want you two to feel at home here; I know this isn't what you're used to, but I--"

"Lupin," Snape said patiently, "you're doing it again."

"Am I?" Lupin laughed, but still looked a little anxious. "I guess I am. Sorry."

"It's fine, Professor," Theodore said firmly. He was touched that Lupin was so eager to make them feel welcome, but the Professor's worries were unnecessary: Nott Manor was probably luxurious by Lupin's standards (though not the Malfoys'), but he much preferred Lupin's cozy little cottage to the old, gloomy mansion that held only memories of fear and pain and hatred for him.

"It's great, Professor," Dylan said reassuringly. "It's about the size of the dorm rooms back at Slytherin, so we'll be fine. And..." He opened his suitcase and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper, then unrolled it and held it up against the wall; it was a poster of a Welsh Quidditch team called the Caerphilly Catapults. "This should help cover up the scratches."

"We've got other posters, too," Theodore added helpfully, "of Quidditch teams and The Weird Sisters. We won't even notice the scratches, honest."

Lupin smiled at them warmly, looking relieved. "Well then, we'll leave you two to unpack. You can join us upstairs when you're done." Then he and Snape left, heading back up the stairs.

"Which bed do you want?" Dylan asked. "I don't really care; you can have the new one if you like."

Theodore looked down at the older bed; the wooden frame looked shabby but sturdy, much like the cottage itself, and was covered with an obviously homemade patchwork quilt that was faded and a little frayed in places. But despite that, it seemed to be something that had been made, and used, with care and affection. Theo sat on the bed; the mattress springs squeaked slightly. "No, this is fine," he said. 

"Okay," Dylan said agreeably, and they unpacked their things, hanging up their clothes in the wardrobe or putting them away in the dresser drawers. They hung their posters on the wall, and Dylan set a silver-framed picture of his parents on the nightstand, and his chess set on the desk. There were no shelves in the room, so they stacked their books on the dresser or under the beds for the time being. The room was dusty and a bit musty-smelling, but a couple of quick cleaning spells soon set things right, as Dylan had said they would.

"It's starting to look like home," Dylan said with a smile. He could still feel a terrible ache in his heart whenever he thought about his mother, but Lupin's compassion and Snape's gruff but sincere concern and affection helped to ease the pain.

Theodore smiled, still feeling a little awestruck by his good look. Unlike Dylan, he did not really miss his parents; although he had wept for them, he had not so much been mourning his parents' deaths as he had been the fact that they never had been, and now never would be, the loving family he had always longed for. Although Theo had resented Draco for bullying and lording it over himself and the other Slytherins these past several years, he could now feel a little sympathy for the other boy: Draco, too, had been weeping more for the illusion than the reality of his father. 

In fact, he figured that in a way, he was better off than Malfoy, because Theodore had always known what his father was really like, while Draco was a pampered, spoiled child who'd had his illusions abruptly ripped away in the worst possible way when his beloved father had tried to save his own life by sacrificing his son's. Of course, he didn't feel too sorry for Draco, since Narcissa Malfoy had chosen to turn against the Death Eaters in order to save her son. His smile faded; that thought was a bitter reminder that, in contrast, Marta Nott had stood by and done nothing to save Theodore. 

But he pushed aside that thought, reminding himself that Lupin and Snape had risked their lives to save him, and miraculously, had invited him to come and live with them. No--not just invited, insisted on it. He smiled again at the memory of Snape telling him sternly that he had no choice in the matter; despite his protests that he could take care of himself, Theodore had secretly been relieved that he wouldn't have to. He wasn't sure if the Ministry would confiscate his family's estate as they had the Rosiers', which would leave him nothing to live on, and although he had blithely told the Headmaster that he could stay with a friend for the summer, he wasn't really sure that his friends' families would want to take in a Death Eater's son. It was a great relief to let Snape deal with all those problems, and an even greater relief to find that his two teachers actually seemed to want him to live with them; he still couldn't quite believe it. 

"Yes, it does," Theodore said softly, in response to Dylan's comment. _Home,_ he thought to himself, savoring the word in his mind. Aloud, he said, "Shall we go upstairs, then?"

"Sure," Dylan said, and they headed upstairs to help Lupin and Snape clean up the cottage. It was not really that big a job, with the four of them working together. Aside from the basement and the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, the cottage basically consisted of one large room: the kitchen was not really a separate room, being divided from the living room only by a counter.

"We should have invited your friend Black over to help us," Snape said to Lupin with sardonic humor, although neither Dylan nor Theodore understood the joke. "He is the expert in housecleaning, after all."

"That's not very nice, Severus," Lupin scolded, attempting to look stern although there was a hint of laughter in his eyes.

"What do you expect, Lupin?" Snape retorted. "I am a Slytherin, after all; we're not supposed to be nice."

This time Lupin did laugh out loud. "So says the hero of the final battle against Voldemort, who risked his life to spy on the Death Eaters!"

Snape flushed and growled, "Oh, shut up, Lupin!"

Lupin grinned and changed the subject. "I thought about asking Sirius if we could borrow Hob for the day, but the cottage is small enough that we should be able to handle it on our own. Besides, I think he and Branwen intend to restore Blackmore Manor, and I'm sure they'll need Hob's help far more than we do."

"Oh?" Snape asked with interest, forgetting his irritation. "I thought she was going to live at Grimmauld Place with Black."

"Yes, for now. The Black house is a bit more convenient, being located in London, while Blackmore Manor is out in the countryside. Still, it is her ancestral home, and she wants to repair the damage the Death Eaters did to it during the first war. Besides, unlike Sirius and his home, it holds fond memories for Branwen of her family."

"Hmm," Snape said with a speculative gleam in his black eyes. "The Blackmores have always been rumored to be experts in the Dark Arts, and Branwen's late father Meredith was said to be quite the scholar, and added extensively to his family's already impressive library--including a number of forbidden texts, or so rumor has it. I wonder if his collection survived the attack...?"

Although Dylan and Theodore were diligently cleaning the living room, Lupin noticed the look of keen interest in their eyes. He sighed a little, not sure that they should be encouraging the boys' interest in the Dark Arts. That was, after all, partly what had drawn Severus into Lucius Malfoy's circle in the first place, over twenty years ago. But to be fair, it had been Severus's anger and jealousy that had actually driven him to join the Death Eaters, rather than his desire to learn Dark Magic. And Branwen's father had claimed that one had to learn Dark Magic in order to properly defend against it; Lupin wasn't sure that he agreed, but Branwen had been tutored in the Dark Arts by both her father and her demonic ancestor Prince Araqiel, and she had not been corrupted by their teachings. 

Lupin hid his misgivings and said in a joking tone, "Are you volunteering to help Branwen clean house, then?"

"It would be worth it to have a look at the Blackmore library," Snape said, then belatedly noticed how intently his two young charges were following the conversation. "You missed a spot, Rosier!" he snapped. "And you, Nott, if you're finished here, you needn't laze about; the kitchen still needs cleaning!"

"Yes, sir!" the boys said, and hastily obeyed.

Lupin smiled and went to the kitchen to help Theodore. "A thirst for knowledge is a good thing," he said, softly enough so that only Theodore could hear him. "But knowledge must be tempered with wisdom. Severus and Professor Blackmore are both experts in the Dark Arts, and they both faced the temptation to misuse their powers. Not everyone is strong enough to overcome such temptation."

Theodore, looking chastened, mumbled, "Don't worry, Professor, I don't want to be like the Death Eaters."

Lupin smiled kindly and patted him on the shoulder. "I know you don't, Theo." Theodore flushed, concentrating very hard on the cleaning spell he was casting--much harder than was really necessary for such a simple spell--and they worked in silence for awhile. When they were done, Lupin examined the empty cupboards with a frown, saying, "I'll have to Apparate over to the village and pick up some groceries. I should have stocked the kitchen earlier, but we were just so busy with school and talking to the Ministry officials and--"

Before Snape could tell Lupin that he was babbling again, there was a knock at the door. "Hello, Remus?" a cheerful voice called out.

Lupin hurried over to open the door. "Why hello, Molly!" he said. "What can we do for you?"

Theodore's jaw fell open as Molly Weasley entered the cottage, carrying a large picnic basket. "Is that Weasley's mother?" he whispered to Dylan, who nodded. "What's she doing here?" Dylan shrugged.

Molly smiled at Lupin and said, "I knew you would be busy getting the cottage in order, and I thought you probably didn't have time to do any grocery shopping yet, so I brought you some lunch." She walked over to the kitchen table as Snape and the boys stared at her, dumbfounded. She opened the basket and began unloading sandwiches, fruit, bottles of butterbeer, and an apple pie onto the table.

"Thank you so much, Molly," Lupin said. "We're very grateful--aren't we, Severus?"

He gave Snape a pointed look, and the Potions Master muttered somewhat ungraciously, "Yes, well, that wasn't really necessary, but I suppose we ought to..." He scowled, almost choking on the words. "...thank you."

Lupin sighed, looking amused and annoyed at the same time, but Molly just smiled at Snape pleasantly and said, "You're welcome, Severus. I know from experience how hungry growing boys get!" She frowned a little, looking concerned as she eyed the two boys--thin, lanky Theodore in particular. "They certainly look like they could use some feeding."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Lupin exclaimed. "Molly, this is Theodore Nott and Dylan Rosier. Theodore, Dylan, this is Molly Weasley--Ron and Ginny's mother."

Theodore mumbled an inarticulate greeting, looking at her warily. Dylan hid his surprise in the way he normally did--with smooth, practiced charm. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said with a smile, holding out his hand. "Ginny and I worked together in Professor Blackmore's class." Theodore scowled at him.

Molly smiled and shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, too, Dylan. I remember seeing you play at the Quidditch match."

Dylan kept smiling, although a hint of nervousness crept into his eyes. "Yes, well, I hope there's no hard feelings. Ginny and Ron played very well; it was a close game..."

"Of course there's no hard feelings!" Molly said, looking a little puzzled. "It's just a game, after all."

 _I don't think the Gryffindors see it that way,_ Dylan thought wryly, but refrained from saying so out loud.

Lupin attempted to change the subject by saying hastily, "Please give Arthur our thanks, Molly, for rushing through the authorization on the custody request."

"Of course, Remus."

Theodore blinked; did that mean what it sounded like...?

Lupin confirmed his suspicions. "It's thanks to the new Minister of Magic that we were able to get custody of you, Theodore. Ariane Donner appointed Severus and I as Dylan's guardians in her will, which is legal and binding--unless his relatives had chosen to challenge it in court, which fortunately they didn't. But things were a bit more complicated in your case; your parents didn't leave a will, and we aren't related to you by blood, so we had to petition the Ministry for permission to foster you. And most people would not consider a former Death Eater and a werewolf to be ideal foster parents..."

"It's that sort of thinking that enabled You-Know-Who to take power in the first place!" Molly said indignantly. "Of course the two of you would make wonderful parents! Arthur knows that; that's why he pushed your request through even though there was some grumbling from the old stuffed shirts at the Ministry--"

Snape's jaw dropped at Molly's declaration that he would make a "wonderful parent"--he might expect to hear such things said about Lupin, but never about himself! Dylan and Theodore looked equally nonplused, while Lupin looked highly amused.

Molly saw look of shock on Snape's face, and laughed and said, "Come now, Severus, I know that my sons have complained constantly about how strict you are, and no doubt they've tested your patience on numerous occasions--Merlin knows they've tested mine!--but it's clear to me that you care very much about your students." Snape's face turned bright red. "I've seen how hard you've worked to protect them, these past couple of years that we've worked in the Order together, how hard you fought to make sure your Slytherins would not be overlooked or sacrificed to expediency." Snape's face grew even redder and he glared at her, but she didn't seem to notice. "Besides," she added cheerfully, "every family needs a disciplinarian, and Remus tends to be a little soft on the children--"

"Why does everyone think that I'm such a soft touch?" Lupin asked, feigning an air of wounded pride.

"Because you are," Snape growled.

"Just like Arthur," Molly sighed, then corrected herself, "well, not quite that bad, I must admit. Honestly, Arthur would let the kids get away with murder if I didn't put my foot down..."

A low growl rumbled deep in Snape's throat as he ground his teeth together and entertained murderous thoughts in his head. Dylan and Theodore prudently began backing away from him, marveling that Molly Weasley didn't seem to recognize the danger that she was in. Lupin had to clamp a hand over his mouth and bite down hard on his lower lip to stifle his laughter at the comparison Molly had just drawn between herself and Snape. He wasn't quite successful, and Snape turned his venomous gaze on Lupin.

"Please stop before you give Severus a stroke, Molly," Lupin gasped. "He's too modest; he can't handle his new role as a hero..." Snape's glare grew even blacker. "And besides, he doesn't want to ruin his image as the big bad Potions Master..." The werewolf finally lost control and doubled over with laughter as his foster sons stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. 

"Keep it up, Lupin," Snape growled, "and I just might add a wolfskin rug to my office decor next term." Lupin just continued to laugh.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Molly said with a straight face, although there was a hint of laughter in her eyes. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Good," Snape snarled, "because Lupin seems to manage that well enough on his own!"

To the boys' relief, Snape didn't kill either Lupin or Mrs. Weasley, although he did regard them both with baleful looks, suddenly reminding them of Professor Blackmore's raven, Bane. "Um, I don't understand," Theodore said nervously to Lupin. "I know what you said about the Ministry officials is true, but nobody else wanted me, so how could they object?"

A sudden look of sorrow and pity filled Molly's face at Thedore's matter-of-fact statement, and Lupin instantly sobered and placed a restraining hand on her arm to prevent her from going over and giving the boy a hug. He knew that it was Molly's natural instinct to want to mother a bereft and unwanted child, and it had served her well with Harry, who had badly needed a surrogate family, but he also knew that Theodore was too cynical and suspicious to accept affection or sympathy from a stranger, especially a Gryffindor who would all too recently have been considered the enemy. 

Lupin thought to himself grimly that as badly as the Dursleys had treated Harry, it had been nothing compared to what some of the Death Eaters had done to their own children. He was suddenly struck by the thought that Harry had much more in common with his Slytherin classmates--and with Severus, for that matter--than either side realized. Well, from the account of his battle with Voldemort, it seemed that Harry had begun to understand that; perhaps one day the Slytherins would, too...

Snape's look of irritation vanished. "You are the heir to an old pureblood family, Theodore," Snape said gravely, with just a hint of sympathy in his black eyes. "Even though that family is disgraced at the moment, the powers that be might not want you to be raised by someone with impure blood." His lips twisted in a bitter smile as he looked at Lupin, who smiled back at him sadly. "Or by a former Death Eater who has been repudiated by his own family."

"Th-then what would have happened to me if the Ministry had denied your petition?" Theodore asked, looking alarmed.

"It doesn't matter," Lupin said, gently but firmly, as he put an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Fortunately, I'm a good friend of the new Minister of Magic--" Lupin grinned. "--and our request was granted." Theodore still looked worried, and Lupin said in a more serious tone, "We're your family now, Theodore; we won't let anyone take you away from us." 

When Theodore didn't look convinced, Lupin bared his teeth a little and said, "Part of me is wolf, and a wolf always protects its pack and its cubs." His voice was light, almost joking, but everyone could see from the look in his eyes that he was dead serious. Molly looked a little taken aback, but Theodore seemed reassured, at least for the moment; Lupin knew it would take a great deal of time for Theo to feel safe and secure in his new family.

Snape said nothing, but he had a fairly good idea of what might have happened if his and Lupin's custody petition had been denied, and none of the options were very appealing. The least harmful one would have been for the Ministry to prevail upon the Headmaster to let Theodore remain at Hogwarts until he came of age. No doubt a summer spent alone at school would seem bleak and lonely, but it was preferable to the other choices: to either put the boy in an orphanage or--this was the most likely possibility--to force one of his relatives to take him in. At best, he would have faced a situation similar to Harry Potter's, with his reluctant guardians making his life miserable, and at worst...if Rafe Dietrich's family blamed Theodore for his death and decided to take their anger out on the boy...well, it was better not to think about it. 

He also knew that if Mathias and Goewin had chosen to challenge Ariane's will in court, they probably could have had it overturned, but fortunately they cared enough about Dylan not to drag him into a custody battle. Snape sourly thought to himself that they did indeed owe Arthur Weasley a great deal for helping them get custody of the boys, even though the thought of being indebted to that idealistic Gryffindor idiot stuck in his craw. _First James Potter, now Arthur Weasley,_ Snape thought to himself grumpily. _When am I ever going to be free of my obligations to these cursed Gryffindors?_ But then Lupin smiled at him, reminding Snape that there was one Gryffindor that he definitely did not want to be free of...

"I should be going," Molly said.

"Won't you stay and have lunch with us?" Lupin asked politely as Snape shot a glare at him.

"Thank you, Remus, but I have to get back home," Molly replied, much to Snape's relief. "Percy is bringing Penelope over for dinner tonight, and I need to get the house in order." She beamed happily, although she looked a little worried. "It's the first time in two years that the whole family will be together again--Charlie's come home for a visit, too. Oh my, there's so much to do--I want everything to be just right!"

"I'm sure that everything will be fine, Molly," Lupin said in a soothing voice. "I'm sure Percy and Charlie will be delighted to taste your good home cooking again." Molly smiled at him gratefully. "It's so kind of you to think of us even when you're so busy."

"Oh, it didn't take but a few minutes to put the sandwiches together," Molly said dismissively, "and I've been baking pies all morning for tonight's dinner, anyway. And with you two being new parents and all, I wanted to make sure that the boys got a decent meal on their first day in their new home." Snape and Theodore turned red, while Dylan just stared at her in disbelief. "Well, anyway, I've got to run! Stop by for a visit sometime, after you get settled in."

"We will, Molly," Lupin called after her cheerfully, waving goodbye as she walked out the door and Disapparated.

"I wish she'd make up her mind," Snape grumbled. "One minute we're 'wonderful parents' and the next we're too incompetent to remember to feed the boys!"

"Now, now," Lupin chided gently, "I'm sure she didn't mean it that way; it's just her motherly nature. She's always fussing over Harry, too."

"But we're Slytherins," Theodore protested, sounding confused and slightly offended.

"I wonder if Weasley knows that his mum is 'mothering' us?" Dylan muttered.

"Well, shall we stop for lunch?" Lupin asked brightly. "I think we're just about done with the cleaning, anyway."

So they settled down to eat their meal, which was of course delicious. Although they ate heartily, there was still enough food left for dinner. Even so, Lupin decided he ought to go grocery shopping at the village. 

"Can we go with you?" Dylan asked, eager to explore his new home.

"I can only take one of you with me because I'd have to Apparate us over," Lupin said apologetically. "The nearest village is several miles away, so it's not really practical to walk there. My parents deliberately built this cottage out in the middle of nowhere so that no one would be able to hear me howl when the moon was full."

"Oh," Dylan said sympathetically, thinking that he and Lupin had more in common than he'd realized. "So you lived in exile, too, sort of..."

"I hadn't really thought of it that way," Lupin said thoughtfully, "but you're right. I was very lonely as a child, but eventually I went to Hogwarts and made friends." He smiled at Dylan, who smiled back at him. "That was a truly wonderful and amazing experience for a boy who had grown up alone, rarely seeing anyone but his parents." Severus said nothing, but his expression darkened a little as he toyed with the remains of his pie, and Lupin was suddenly reminded that not all of his experiences at Hogwarts had been good ones. He reached out and laid a hand on Severus's arm and said gently, "At least it was mostly wonderful. I was so grateful to have friends that sometimes I let them get away with things that I shouldn't have."

The boys looked a little confused, and Snape looked a little abashed. "It's in the past, Remus," he said gruffly. "Let it be."

Lupin looked relieved, but said, "Well, it is important to remember the mistakes we made in the past so that we do not repeat them." Then he smiled warmly at Snape. "But whatever mistakes I made at Hogwarts, I will always be grateful for my time there because that is where I met you, Severus."

Snape flushed and growled, "Didn't you say that you had some shopping to do, Lupin?"

Lupin grinned and rose from his seat. "Well, would one of you like to come with me? Or if you both want to come, Severus could Apparate with one of you."

Snape was still looking rather grumpy, and Theodore didn't find the idea of visiting some little country village all that interesting, so he said, "No, Dylan can go. It's no big deal; I'd rather stay home, anyway." Then he fell silent, feeling a little stunned by how easily the word "home" had fallen from his lips.

Lupin smiled at him, seeming to sense his thoughts, and said cheerfully, "Well, let's go then, Dylan."

Snape went to his and Lupin's room to unpack, and Theodore went back to his basement room. He opened a book, but couldn't concentrate, so he simply laid back on his bed and tried to let all these changes sink in: a new home; a new family; Snape in love with Lupin; Snape and Dylan not really Death Eaters at all, but spies who had secretly worked against the Dark Lord. These were not bad changes--quite the contrary, in fact--but they still didn't seem quite real to him...

Meanwhile, Lupin and Dylan went to the local village. It had only a small general store, but they were able to pick up some staples to fill the pantry. Somewhat to Dylan's suprise, most of the villagers were very friendly, greeting Lupin warmly; several of them shook his hand and thanked him or told him how brave he was to fight against the Death Eaters, which seemed to embarrass the werewolf. Lupin did, however, seem to take great pleasure and pride in introducing Dylan as "my foster son," which Dylan found touching. Most of the villagers looked surprised but greeted Dylan just as warmly as they had Lupin, but a few frowned disapprovingly.

"They don't approve of you taking in a Death Eater's son?" Dylan asked as they prepared to leave.

"I think it's more that they think my relationship with Severus is slightly scandalous," Lupin replied, a little sadly, "and that they don't think I should be openly flaunting my lover, much less adopting children with him."

"Oh," Dylan said. He was not really surprised, but he was angry with them for hurting Lupin's feelings. He felt a sudden urge to hex those sour-faced bigots, but he knew that Lupin wouldn't approve. "Most of the villagers seem to like you, though. Have they always known you were a werewolf?"

Lupin smiled, but still looked a little sad. "They like me now that I've been labeled a hero in the Daily Prophet, and I suppose that's a good thing, if it helps them realize that werewolves are people and not monsters. But there were always whispers and suspicious glances when I was a child, and outright hostility after my lycanthropy was made public three years ago. A few people, like the owner of the general store, have always been kind to me, but they were the exception, not the rule." 

Dylan grew even more angry and clenched his fists as he said, "Why, I should--"

"No, Dylan," Lupin said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They are ignorant, not evil."

"But you risked your life to save these people; people who treat you like you're not even human!"

"I risked my life to save them, yes," Lupin said calmly. "And also to save the people I loved, like you and Severus and Theodore." He placed his hand on Dylan's cheek for a moment, and Dylan's anger subsided a little.

"But--"

"Yelling at them or hexing them would change nothing," Lupin continued in that unflappable voice. "Nor would hating them. It's better to lead by example, to prove through my actions that I can be trusted. People fear what they do not understand, but perhaps they are beginning to understand my kind a little better."

"Are they?" Dylan asked cynically. "Or will they change their minds when the newspaper headlines change?"

"I don't know," Lupin replied quietly. "I guess we'll find out, won't we? Come now, Dylan, let's go home."

*** 

The next day, Snape left for London on some mysterious errand. The boys helped Lupin make some minor repairs to the house and reinforce the wards on it; Lupin supposed it wasn't really necessary anymore, but better to be safe than sorry and besides, it was good practice for the boys. They still seemed a little subdued--not surprising, considering everything they had been through--so Lupin spent a quiet afternoon playing card games with them. Dylan and Theodore didn't feel much like talking, but listened with interest as Lupin talked about his schoolboy days at Hogwarts. They smiled a little as he described some of his adventures with the Marauders, but he didn't hesitate to describe his friends' shortcomings as well as their good points.

"They were kind, compassionate, and loyal," Lupin said with a sad smile as he shuffled the deck of cards. "They didn't care about my lycanthropy; it didn't make the least bit of difference to them, and I Ioved them for that. But they were also narrow-minded and stubborn, with the self-righteousness of young Gryffindors certain that they knew what was right and what was wrong; black and white, absolutes with no shades of gray." He sighed and just stared at the cards in his hands instead of dealing them out. "That's why they hated the Slytherins so much; I suppose they were no different from most Gryffindors, believing that all Slytherins were destined to become Dark Wizards."

"So what made you different from the rest of the Gryffindors?" Theodore wanted to know.

"I never really felt like I belonged, I suppose," Lupin replied. "James, Sirius, and Peter accepted me, but I was afraid that some of the other Gryffindors might not, if they ever learned the truth about me. I always felt like a bit of an outsider, so it was easier for me to remain detached from the House rivalries. My friends could be quite cruel to the Slytherins sometimes, Severus in particular, and it was difficult for me to reconcile that cruelty with the loyalty and kindness they showed me."

Theodore's eyes narrowed in thought. "You told us that night in the dorm when you brought us the hot chocolate that you were afraid to make up with Professor Snape after the two of you fought, because you were scared of losing your Gryffindor friends. So how loyal could they have been, really, if they would abandon you that easily?"

Lupin looked up, startled; he had never really thought of it that way before. Gryffindors sometimes tended to see things through rose-colored glasses, while Slytherins tended to view everything in a cynical light, and Theodore--with good reason--was more cynical than most. Lupin had been so grateful for the Marauders' friendship, and so desperate to keep it, that he had never once stopped to consider whether _they_ were worthy of _his_ friendship. He blushed with shame as he remembered all the times he had stood by and done nothing as James and Sirius taunted Severus. 

"They were good to me," Lupin said softly. "They became Animagi in secret to help me through my transformations, and they would have given their lives for me--at least, James and Sirius would have. But they considered being a Slytherin far worse than being a werewolf. I'm not sure what they would have done if I had continued to pursue a friendship with Severus; I was afraid to find out. But that was due as much to my own insecurity as it was to their prejudice: I had no friends before I came to Hogwarts, and I was terribly afraid of losing the only friends I had. I really don't know...James was kind to me after Severus and I broke up, but I knew that in his mind the whole incident proved that nothing good could come of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin mixing together."

Lupin sighed heavily, and Theodore felt guilty for making him feel bad. After all, Theodore himself was hardly in a position to pass judgment--he had gone along with everything Draco told him to do, including walking into a Death Eater gathering. "I'm sorry, Professor," Theodore said contritely. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's all right, Theo," Lupin said with a gentle smile. "Things have changed since then--Sirius has finally matured and accepted my relationship with Severus. And the current generation of Hogwarts students has fared better than mine: you learned to work together with the Gryffindors..." Lupin laughed at the grumpy expression on Theodore's face--not unlike the one Severus usually wore--and added, "Even if you didn't enjoy it! And some of you have formed friendships with them--or at least, Pansy and Millicent have."

"They just enjoy mooning over Dylan together, that's all," Theodore muttered peevishly.

"Don't blame it on me," Dylan protested with a sheepish grin.

Lupin just laughed, then he dealt out the cards and they concentrated on the game, speaking only of trivial matters until it was time for dinner.

The boys helped Lupin make dinner, a simple stew. Theodore said with a wry little smile, "Well, I guess chopping potatoes isn't that different from chopping roots in Potions class."

"Consider it good practice," Lupin said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

Snape returned just as Dylan was setting the table, and when they sat down to eat, he explained where he had been.

"I spent the day talking to a lawyer and wrangling with the Ministry," Snape said, looking a little cross. "We've filed a petition to have the Rosier estate restored to Dylan, and another to keep the Ministry from confiscating the Nott estate."

"Did they give you a hard time?" Dylan asked. "Even though the new Minister of Magic is your friend?"

"He's not MY friend!" Snape snapped. "He's Lupin's friend!"

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin said mildly.

"Sorry, Professor," Dylan said apologetically. "But even so..."

"Power has its limits, Rosier," Snape said in a didactic tone, as if they were in the classroom instead of sitting at the dinner table. "Weasley has instituted many changes in a short period of time--such as granting the non-humans equal rights, which he has been able to do only because he's riding out the wave of goodwill the public feels towards a 'hero' of the war. But he can't afford to go overboard, or he'll risk offending people in high places and losing his position. And a great deal of fear and resentment towards the Death Eaters has built up over the years, and people are only now feeling free to express that resentment..."

"Are you worried about vigilantism, Severus?" Lupin asked, looking concerned. "Are the boys or your other students in any danger?"

"I don't think it will go that far," Snape said. He turned to Theodore and Dylan, and added gravely, "Although you can expect to be insulted by people who blame you for what your parents did."

Theodore shrugged indifferently. "That's nothing new."

"In any case," Snape continued, "certain people in the Ministry--the Aurors in particular, except for Shacklebolt and Tonks--want to punish the Death Eaters beyond a prison sentence, and to gain some sort of posthumous revenge on the ones who are dead. The lawyer says she thinks she can prevent them from confiscating the Nott estate, but it will take some time to sort everything out. There's talk of fines being levied against the various Death Eaters' estates, and we might not be able to prevent them from doing so, since Thaddeus and Marta were Death Eaters even though Theodore was not. For the moment, the Nott account at Gringotts is frozen but--" Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm. "--the Ministry has graciously granted us permission to go to the Nott mansion to retrieve Theodore's personal belongings." Theodore blinked in surprise. With uncharacteristic patience, Snape asked, "Isn't there anything at your house that you'd like to retrieve?"

"Nothing I can't live without, but...yes," Theodore said slowly, as he thought it over. "Some clothes and books." He had plenty of clothes with him, but they were mostly school uniforms; he wouldn't mind picking up some of his plain robes and casual clothing, as well as books he'd left at home because he didn't have room for all of them in his dorm room, not to mention that some of them dealt with Dark Magic and might be frowned upon at Hogwarts. "And some...ah...personal things." Hidden in his room were a few treasured toys and keepsakes--mostly gifts from his Uncle Rafe--that he was too old to play with but had too much sentimental value for him to throw away.

"I'm surprised that they're letting you into the mansion before the investigation has been completed and a final decision made," Lupin said.

Snape scowled. "Apparently the Aurors have already combed the house for Dark Magic items, so they feel it's safe. But we're to be accompanied by an Auror, I suppose to make sure that we only take Theodore's belongings and don't run off with the silverware before the Ministry can steal--ahem, I mean, confiscate it."

"Severus!" Lupin exclaimed, appalled at both the Ministry for its petty vengefulness, and at Severus for making light of the matter in front of Theodore, although the boy didn't look particularly disturbed. In fact, he looked mildly amused, if in a rather cynical way.

"Oh, don't get so worked up, Lupin," Snape said. "It's only a formality. Your friend Tonks volunteered for the job; she seemed rather embarrassed by her colleagues' attitudes. I'm sure she'll let us pick up Theodore's things without breathing down our necks to make sure we don't take anything we shouldn't."

Lupin relaxed. "Ah, she's feeling better, then?"

Snape shrugged. "Apparently. She seems quite healthy to me, although her hair was shocking pink today instead of violet. It's a pity St. Mungo's can't do anything about her sense of taste, or lack thereof."

Lupin chuckled. "Then we'll all go to Nott Manor tomorrow." He hesitated for a moment; Theodore revisiting his home might be a rather personal and sensitive matter. "Unless you'd feel more comfortable going with just Severus..."

"No, Professor," Theodore said hastily. The thought of facing his childhood home and the memories it contained was a rather daunting one, and he needed all the moral support he could get. "I'd like it if you and Dylan came with us."

Lupin smiled at him. "Then we'll be happy to come along. But we're not in school right now, so the two of you don't really have to keep calling me 'Professor' all the time. You may call me 'Remus' or 'Lupin' if you wish."

Before the boys could respond, Snape scowled and said in his best intimidating Potions Master voice, "Well, you can call ME Professor Snape!"

Lupin sighed, in that long-suffering way of his. "Is that really necessary, Severus? We're not in school, after all...right now we're their family, not their teachers."

Snape flushed a little but refused to back down. "I don't see anything wrong with children addressing their guardians in a respectful manner. Besides, if they call us by our first names all summer, sooner or later they'll slip when they go back to school. It's better to remain consistent."

"Would the world really come to an end if Dylan or Theodore accidentally called you by your first name in class?" Lupin asked, with equal amounts of irritation and amusement in his voice.

"You can do as you like, Lupin," Snape retorted. "They can call you 'Moony' for all I care--everyone knows you're a soft touch, anyway. But don't presume to tell me what to do."

The boys kept looking back and forth from Lupin to Snape as the argument progressed, Dylan with amusement, because he knew Snape well enough by now to be able to tell when he was really angry and when he wasn't. This was a great deal like their feigned arguments at the dinner table at Hogwarts; maybe they had simply gotten into the habit of quarreling at dinner even when they didn't have to.

But Theodore, who was not aware that his Head of House had a sense of humor at all, could not tell that they were only joking. "Please, sir," he said to Lupin anxiously, "I don't think I'd feel comfortable calling you or Professor Snape by your first names."

"Of course, Theo," Lupin said gently, and silently scolded himself for upsetting the boy. He doubted that the Notts had indulged in playful banter very often, so he would have to remember that Theodore might take their mock-arguments seriously. "Whatever you feel comfortable with. But please feel free to call me by my name if you change your mind."

Snape also looked a little guilty. "Don't worry about it, Nott," he said gruffly. "If I got upset over every idiotic idea the werewolf came up with, I'd give myself an ulcer."

Lupin smiled at his lover affectionately; it was not much of an apology, but that was the most that they were going to get out of Professor Snape at the moment, and certainly more than his students were used to receiving. "It's all right, Theo," Lupin said cheerfully to his foster son, who still looked a little nervous. "Severus isn't really happy unless he has something to complain about."

Snape snorted, rolling his eyes, but chose to ignore that remark, and changed the subject. "You should be thinking about which N.E.W.T.s you plan to take next year, Theodore. It's not too early for you to start thinking about it as well, Dylan."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said.

"Really, Severus," Lupin said, "school just let out yesterday. You can let them enjoy their summer vacation a little before getting them worried about exams."

"This is important, Lupin," Snape insisted. "Theodore's going to graduate next year, and he needs to decide which N.E.W.T.s to take so that he can properly prepare for them. If he doesn't take the right classes, or if he doesn't score high enough on his exams, his career options will be limited."

"Have you given any thought as to what you'd like to do when you graduate?" Lupin asked kindly.

Theodore squirmed nervously under Lupin's kind gaze and Snape's stern one, and stared down at his bowl of stew. "I don't know," he muttered, a little sullenly. "I never thought about it before. It's not like I had a choice; my parents were planning for me to become a Death Eater..."

"You have a choice now, Theo," Lupin said gently, placing his hand on Theodore's shoulder.

Snape's expression softened a little and he said in a kinder voice, "Well, you needn't decide right now, of course. But take some time to think about it over the summer, all right?"

Theodore looked up timidly; this nicer version of Snape was not unwelcome, but it took some getting used to, after living in fear of him for so many years. "Yes, sir," he said meekly.

Snape nodded and concentrated on his food, giving up any further attempts at conversation, since he seemed unable to find a safe topic of discussion. However, Lupin blithely filled up the ensuing awkward silence with cheery mindless chatter, much as he did at Hogwarts to get on Snape's nerves--or at least to keep up the pretense of getting on Snape's nerves. Snape smiled a little, and he and the boys relaxed, soothed by Lupin's good cheer. 

After dinner--and dessert (Snape had picked up a box of fancy pastries after completing his errands in London), they all spent the rest of the evening sitting quietly together in the living room. Lupin and Snape sat in front of the fireplace reading--Lupin a novel and Snape a Potions journal--while Dylan and Theodore played a game of chess. As Theodore waited patiently while Dylan pondered his next move, he felt a pleasant but very unfamiliar feeling come over him, like the warmth of the fire slowly seeping into his body on a cold winter night. It was so unfamiliar that he could not put a name to it, but finally he realized what it was: he felt completely safe and content for the first time in his life. 

He had experienced moments of happiness, even joy, with his friends and with Blaise, but he had never truly let his guard down before--not with his friends, not even when he was alone with his lover, and certainly not with his family. But he no longer had to worry about what his father or the Death Eaters might do to him; he no longer had to worry about keeping Blaise safe from them. A nearly inaudible sigh of relief escaped from his lips, and a look of contentment filled his usually sullen face.

"Theo? It's your turn."

"Huh? Oh, right."

The boys leaned over the chessboard, and did not see Lupin smile at them tenderly, but Snape did, and--since no one was paying attention to him at the moment--smiled at Lupin with equal tenderness. He hastily turned his attention back to his magazine when Lupin glanced in his direction. Lupin bent his head down, pretending to be peering closely at his book, letting his hair fall across his face to hide his grin. If they had been alone, he would have started teasing Severus, letting him bluster and growl, then disarmed him by nuzzling his neck and running his fingers through Severus's thick, shiny black hair...but he could indulge in that sort of thing after the boys had gotten settled in and used to living with them; poor Theodore had probably been traumatized enough for one day. But later, after the boys were feeling more comfortable and secure...

Lupin chuckled softly, a surprisingly wicked sound for the good-natured werewolf, and Snape gave him a suspicious look. Lupin just smiled back at him with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

*** 

After a quick breakfast the next morning (Theodore felt too nervous to eat much), they all headed to the Nott estate, where they were greeted by a young witch with spiky violet hair.

"Hello, Remus," she called out cheerfully. "Hello, Severus."

"Hello, Tonks," Lupin said, giving her a hug. "Feeling better?"

"As good as new," Tonks said with a grin, flexing her recently-healed right arm. 

"I thought Severus said your hair was pink yesterday."

"Oh, I was experimenting, but I decided that I didn't like it. Besides, Kingsley thinks that violet suits me better..."

Snape cleared his throat impatiently. "Perhaps you two could exchange beauty tips some other time?" he suggested sarcastically.

Tonks just smiled, and Lupin sighed in that long-suffering way of his that Snape always found so annoying. "Tonks, you know Dylan already, of course, and this is Theodore. Theodore, this is my friend Nymphadora Tonks."

"Nice to meet you, Theodore," Tonks said pleasantly, extending her hand. "Please call me Tonks; I can't stand my first name."

Theodore hesitated, then reached out and shook her hand--very cautiously and with obvious reluctance, as if expecting it to turn into a snake and bite him. If Tonks was offended, she didn't let it show, and continued smiling at him cheerfully.

"Well, I don't want to keep you waiting," Tonks said, winking at Snape, who just glared at her. The Nott estate was surrounded by a tall black iron fence, much like the Rosier estate was. The gates were locked with a length of chain and a large padlock covered with glowing runes of warding. The lock and chain were a recent addition; they had not been there when Theodore had last seen his home. Tonks took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the gates, and they headed towards the mansion. There were more wards placed on the door--by the Ministry, no doubt, Theodore thought--but Tonks bypassed them with a brief incantation and a wave of her wand.

They entered the house and got a shock: furniture lay overturned; paintings hung askew on the walls; cabinet doors had been flung open and drawers pulled out of their desks, their contents dumped on the floor; and even the floorboards had been pulled up in a few spots.

Snape was livid. "How dare they?!" he shouted at Tonks. "The Aurors may have had a warrant to search for Dark Magic items, but that doesn't give them license to tear the house apart in the process! Particularly when there's still an heir to the Nott estate who has committed no crime!"

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Tonks said, looking genuinely surprised and distressed at the state of the house. "We lost two of our own in the battle; some of my fellow Aurors are still bitter and probably took the opportunity to vent some of their frustrations." She turned to Theodore. "But that's no excuse for what they did; I'm very, very sorry, Theodore. I apologize on behalf of my colleagues. If Kingsley or I had been here, this wouldn't have happened, but..."

"But you were in St. Mungo's," Lupin reminded her, "and of course Kingsley wanted to be by your side. It's not your fault, Tonks."

"Well, it's somebody's fault!" Snape fumed. "I want an apology and compensation from the Ministry or I'll--"

"Never mind, Professor," Theodore interrupted, kicking a fallen vase across the room. "I hate this place; the Ministry can burn it to the ground for all I care!" Theodore's gray-green eyes glittered with some dark, intense emotion composed of equal parts of hatred and pain.

Snape's anger vanished, to be replaced by concern. "That's not the point, Theodore," he said, but in an almost kindly voice. "They don't have the right to do that. Even if you don't want the mansion, I won't let the Ministry have the satisfaction of destroying it or stealing it. You can always sell the estate--once the title is restored to you, and you come of age, of course."

"I don't want it!" Theodore said vehemently.

Lupin exchanged a worried look with Snape, then placed a hand on Theodore's shoulder and said gently, "You shouldn't make any snap decisions right now, and it will take awhile to sort out all the legalities, anyway. Take some time to think things over, and if you still want to sell the mansion when you're eighteen, then Severus and I will help you. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret later."

"I won't change my mind," Theodore muttered, but he calmed down a little. They carefully made their way through the living room, trying to avoid broken glass, piles of debris, and torn-up floorboards. Lupin paused to pick up a chair that had been knocked over, but Theodore told him, "Don't bother, Professor."

"I thought your family had a house-elf," Snape said, feeling puzzled now that his anger had abated. No self-respecting house-elf would allow its house to remain in such a state; even Kreacher had taken better care of the Black home than this.

"My father killed it a few years ago," Theodore said in an almost offhand manner. "He lost his temper one day when it spilled a cup of hot tea on his lap, and hit it with a Crucio spell. I don't think he meant to kill it, but it was kind of old and decrepit..." Theodore had not felt any affection for the house-elf; its sniveling, groveling manner had always disgusted him--perhaps because he knew deep down that he was no better than the elf. He had always done whatever his father told him to, had always cringed and accepted whatever punishment his father dealt out without trying to fight back, even when Thaddeus had killed his favorite uncle, the only person who had ever been kind to him as a child. So Theodore had felt little sadness or regret at the house-elf's death, except for the fact that Thaddeus, angry at being deprived of his servant, had taken out his frustration on his wife and son.

Lupin stared at Theodore in horror, not just because of Thaddeus's cruelty, but because of the casual, almost callous way the boy spoke of the house-elf's death. Theodore saw the way Lupin was looking at him, and flushed with guilt and shame, realizing how he must have sounded. He felt a sudden surge of fear; what if Lupin thought he was no better than his father? What if he regretted taking in a Death Eater's son?

"I couldn't stop him!" Theodore said defensively; his voice sounded shrill and slightly whiny to his own ears. "He would have done the same to me! You don't know what he was like--"

"It's all right, Theodore," Lupin said gently, placing a hand on his foster son's shoulder, and felt a tremor run through the boy's body. "It wasn't your fault; I don't blame you." He knew that the Death Eaters--and even many of the other pureblood families--had brought up their children to feel contempt towards non-humans, and to regard the house-elves as property, not people. He didn't blame Theodore for that attitude; he blamed Thaddeus. 

It would take some time, Lupin reminded himself, for Theodore and the other Slytherins to learn to see beyond their parents' prejudices. "And I know what Thaddeus was like." The kind of man who would take pleasure in torturing his own son; the kind of man who would willingly sacrifice that son to save his own life. Lupin's inner wolf stirred, roused by the thought of someone hurting its cub, and he suddenly regretted not tearing out Thaddeus Nott's throat on the battlefield while he had the chance...

"Look at what those horrible men did to the place!" one of the portraits on the wall exclaimed, causing Lupin--and everyone else in the room--to jump. It was a picture of a gray-haired woman dressed in old-fashioned robes. "They just came in here and started breaking things; they were dreadfully rude to me when I told them to stop!"

"They even manhandled my portrait!" the painting next to her said indignantly; this one portrayed an elderly man in equally old-fashioned black dress robes, and was hanging crookedly on the wall. "Straighten me up, boy," the portrait ordered; it appeared to be addressing Theodore. "It's giving me a headache to look at you from this angle."

Theodore just gave the painting a cold look. "Portraits don't get headaches," he snapped. "And don't call me 'boy'!"

"You wouldn't be getting so cheeky with me if your father were here, boy!" the portrait retorted.

"Yeah, well, he's not here, now is he?" Theodore said belligerently. "He's never going to be here again!"

"Then it's true, what those Aurors told us," the first portrait said softly. "Thaddeus is dead."

"Yes, and good riddance!" Theodore snarled.

"How can you say such a thing about your own father?" the female portrait asked accusingly.

"You always were a sullen, insolent child," the male portrait said, glowering at Theodore. "Why, if I weren't in this portrait, I would--"

"I can see where Thaddeus got his winning personality from," Snape interrupted in a smooth, if slightly sarcastic voice as he stepped forward and raised his wand. "But if you don't keep a civil tongue in that painted head of yours, I shall blast your portrait into splinters."

"How dare you!" roared the portrait. "What right do you have to come into my house and threaten me?!"

"First of all," Snape said coldly, "this is not your house; it is Theodore's. You are nothing more than a bit of paint and canvas, and a portrait cannot own property." The portrait began to splutter with rage. "And I have every right to be here, as Theodore's foster father."

"Foster father?!" the portrait howled, then gave Snape a closer look. "You're a Snape, aren't you?"

"There's no mistaking that nose," the female portrait interjected, and Snape scowled at her.

"Severin Snape?" the male portrait asked.

"Severus," Snape growled. "Severin is my father."

"What is a Snape doing meddling in Nott business?" the portrait demanded. "Is this your way of absorbing our estate into the Snape holdings, by controlling the boy--?"

Snape turned and pointed his wand at one of the other paintings hanging on the wall; it appeared to be a normal painting of a landscape, not one of the magical portraits. A red beam of light shot out from his wand and the picture exploded into a shower of splinters, shreds of canvas, and paint chips. "That is the only warning you will get," Snape said in a voice that would have made his students break out in a cold sweat, because it usually preceded a very nasty punishment. "Open your mouth again, and that will be you."

The man in the portrait gazed fearfully at the remains of the landscape, and Snape smiled at him in a very nasty way. Lupin thought the portrait might have a stroke--if such a thing were possible--from the effort it took to keep silent: the unnamed Nott kept his lips firmly sealed together in a thin line, but his face was turning red, and a vein was visibly throbbing on his forehead. Lupin marveled at the lifelike detail of the painting and almost felt sorry for him, although from what he had seen, this Nott had probably been as cruel and domineering as Thaddeus. Still, he reached out and straightened the portrait with an apologetic smile.

"You're such a soft touch, Lupin," Snape muttered disapprovingly.

"Who are those people, anyway?" Dylan asked Theodore.

"My grandparents," he replied in a flat voice.

Meanwhile, Lupin straightened the other pictures hanging on the wall, although except for Theodore's grandparents, none of them appeared to be "living" portraits. As he worked his way down the wall, he came across a very large and slightly moth-eaten tapestry. It was made of faded green velvet, and embroidered on it with silver thread was the Nott family tree; it closely resembled the tapestry hanging in Sirius's house. Lupin examined it curiously and noticed something interesting.

"Look, Severus," Lupin said, pointing at the tapestry. "There's a Snape on Theodore's family tree!"  "Really?" Theodore asked. He had never much cared about his family history, and rarely looked at the moldy old thing, but now he moved closer to look at the name Lupin was pointing at. Dylan, Snape, and Tonks peered over his and Lupin's shoulders.

"Yes," Lupin replied. "Your great-great-great grandmother, it looks like," he said, tracing his finger along the tree. "One Melisandre Snape, married to Tyrone Nott. Did you know that, Severus?"  Snape scowled. "My mother is the one interested in such things, not me; I'm sure she can rattle off the entire Snape family tree without blinking. I'm not sure who this Melisandre is; probably a daughter or younger sister to the then-Lord of the Snape estate." He added sarcastically, "You could always ask my mother; I'm sure she'd just love to hear from you."

"I'm related to Professor Snape?" Theodore asked, looking shocked. 

"Cool," said Dylan, although his friend didn't seem to know whether he should be pleased or appalled.

"All the pureblood families are related if you go back far enough," Snape said in a didactic tone of voice. "There's only so much pure blood to go around, after all." He took a closer look at the tapestry and pointed, "See there, one of your great-great aunts married a Black, and here, another ancestor married a Talbott--that was the maiden name of Elin Rosier, Dylan's grandmother."

"Perhaps you and Sirius are related too, then," Lupin said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Perish the thought, Lupin!" Snape said, shuddering.

"We're related!" Dylan said happily to Theodore, who smiled back at him. Both Lupin and Snape were pleased to see it, since Theodore smiling was a rare sight at the best of times, and even more rare since his parents had been killed. "Does this make us cousins or something?" Dylan asked.

"Second or third cousins several times removed," Snape said. "But yes, more or less."

"You're closer than that," Lupin said gently. "You're brothers, or at least, foster brothers now."

The boys smiled again and Snape harrumphed loudly as his face turned red, and he said in a gruff voice, "Come along, then, Nott! We haven't got all day!"

Dylan, who was used to Snape's behavior by now, was unperturbed, but Theodore looked anxious. So Lupin leaned over and said in a stage whisper, "Don't worry, Theo. Severus just likes to act grumpy so that no one will notice when he's feeling sentimental."

"Lupin!" Snape said indignantly. "Would you mind not destroying what few shreds of dignity I have left?"

"I'm afraid your reputation is ruined, Professor Snape," Lupin said with an unrepentant grin. "You've already revealed yourself to be a hero." He moved closer to Snape and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. "And I know that deep down inside, you're a softie."

"LUPIN!" Snape bellowed as Tonks giggled and Theodore's eyes went wide with disbelief. Lupin just wrapped his arms around Snape's waist and continued to nuzzle him, but Snape's irritation suddenly dissipated when he saw Dylan with his hands clamped over his mouth, trying--unsuccessfully--to muffle his laughter. Dylan had naturally been subdued and depressed since Ariane had died, so Snape supposed that the embarrassment was worth it to hear him laugh. He sighed and said in a much less sharp tone, "Could you please do that later, Lupin? I don't really want to linger in this house, and I doubt that Theodore does either."

Lupin released Snape and smiled apologetically at Theodore. "Of course. Let's go get your things, Theo." As Theodore headed upstairs to his bedroom, Lupin leaned over and purred in a nearly--but not quite--inaudible and very suggestive voice, "We'll continue this later, Severus." He belatedly remembered his promise to himself that he would tone things down until Theodore got accustomed to living with them, and appeased his conscience by telling it that at least Dylan was laughing and smiling again. Besides, it was good for children to see their parents being affectionate with each other, wasn't it?

Snape's face, which had just begun to return to its normal color, turned beet-red again. "LUPIN!"

He wasn't the only one turning red: Theodore blushed and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, a laughing Dylan following close behind.

"A rug," Snape said, glowering at Lupin as they followed the boys at a more leisurely pace. "A wolfskin rug for my office." But Lupin had heard that threat so many times that it held no power over him, and besides, he could hear the affection beneath the sour tone in his lover's voice. So he just smiled, slipping his arm through Snape's, and the Potions Master heaved a long-suffering sigh, and let him.

But they hurried up the stairs and down the hall when they heard Theodore cry out in dismay; Tonks followed close on their heels. They paused in the doorway of Theodore's bedroom, which was in the same state as the rest of the house: books had been pulled off the shelves and thrown carelessly onto the floor, some of them with pages bent and spines creased; and his desk and dresser drawers had been pulled out and obviously rifled through. But what seemed to upset the boy the most was that the floorboards beneath his bed had been torn up, and beside them, a wooden box lay open, its contents spilled onto the floor.

Lupin felt his stomach twist itself into a knot of anger and pity as he stared at his foster son's face, realizing how violated the boy must feel. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, and felt a low growl rumbling in his throat as the wolf rose to the surface again. Beside him, he heard Severus say in a quiet but deadly voice, "I am going to kill the Aurors responsible for this." 

"I am so, so sorry," Tonks said helplessly. 

Theodore ignored all of them, and shrugged off the sympathetic hand Dylan laid on his shoulder. He fell to his knees and began picking up the items spilled on the floor, groping clumsily because his eyes were blurred with tears.

Lupin managed to get his inner wolf under control--the process being made slightly easier when its protective instincts overrode its anger--and said to Severus quietly, "You and Tonks take Dylan downstairs; I'll stay with Theo."

Snape gave him a grateful look, feeling a cowardly sense of relief that he would not have to comfort the boy; he was not really good at such things, and would probably botch it up somehow. "Come, Mr. Rosier, let's give them some privacy," he said, placing a hand on Dylan's arm, guiding him out of the room. Dylan followed him without resistance, and Tonks trailed after them just as meekly, looking as though she were close to tears herself.

Lupin knelt down beside Theodore and helped him pick up the scattered objects and put them back in the wooden box. Theodore sniffled, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and said in a shaky voice, "I hid the box under the floorboards with a spell of concealment, but I guess the Aurors saw through it and thought I was hiding some Dark Magic items or something..."

There was nothing of the sort here, Lupin saw, only the kind of childish treasures a young boy might hide: marbles; a kaleidoscope; a gold-colored feather from some unknown bird; shiny or colorful rocks and pebbles; Famous Wizard cards; a battered action figure of some Quidditch player Lupin didn't recognize; a toy dragon with one wing broken off; and a photo of a handsome young man with black hair and laughing brown eyes, who had his arm around a small, dark-haired boy who was smiling up at him adoringly. The boy, of course, was Theo, and Lupin recognized the man in the photo as Rafe Dietrich, a fellow Gryffindor who had been a few years behind him at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, he handed the picture to Theodore, and asked gently, "Is this your Uncle Rafe?"

Theodore nodded, his eyes filling with tears again. "Yes," he whispered. "He gave me most of these things. The dragon was a Christmas present, and this--" Theodore touched the action figure. "--he bought when he took me to a Quidditch match when I was seven." The year before his father had killed Rafe. His hands began to tremble as he put the photo back in the box and closed the lid. He hated the Aurors for tearing up his room and going through his most personal and prized possessions; he hated his father for killing Rafe; but most of all, he hated himself, because it was his fault that Rafe was dead. He closed his eyes tightly, but the tears still squeezed past his eyelids and slid down his face. "It's all my fault," he whispered. "If I hadn't told him what my father was doing--"

"Theodore," Lupin said softly, "it's not your fault."

"It is!" Theodore insisted, opening his eyes; they were filled with anguish. "He was trying to protect me, and my father killed him for it, and I didn't even try to help him! I just stood there and did nothing!"

"You were only eight years old," Lupin reminded him. "There was nothing you could have done to stop a full-grown wizard. If you had tried, your father might have killed you as well."

"But afterwards," Theodore cried out, on the verge of hysteria, "if I had told someone, if I had testified against my father, at least Rafe's family might have been able to take revenge for his death! But I was a coward, I was too scared--"

"You were eight years old," Lupin repeated firmly. "You were only a child, and your father had threatened to kill you. And knowing Thaddeus, he probably would have followed through on his threat. Your uncle loved you, Theo. He would not have wanted you to put yourself in danger for his sake."

"It's my fault," Theodore sobbed. "He was the only person in my family who ever cared about me, and I just stood there and watched him die!"

"It's not your fault, Theo," Lupin said, gathering the boy into his arms. Theodore shook his head, but didn't resist as Lupin pulled him closer and held him tightly as he wept. "It's not your fault, it's not your fault," Lupin murmured over and over; if he said it often enough, maybe one day Theodore would finally begin to believe it. "You were only a child; it's not your fault." Lupin was filled with a sense of mingled tenderness and protectiveness; he didn't bother trying to separate the wolf's feelings from the man's, because it didn't really matter. He held his son, his cub, and whispered fiercely, "I will never let anyone hurt you like that again! You don't have to be afraid anymore; you are my family, my pack, you and Severus and Dylan, and I will protect you."

Theodore heard Lupin growl in a very wolf-like manner, but he felt no fear, only relief. He had never felt safe in his own home, and in a strange way, it was almost comforting to have a werewolf guarding him. He remembered the way Lupin in his wolf form had saved him from his father and Voldemort on the battlefield, and began to relax a little. It was strange; he had not wept since he was eight years old--or at least, he had done so only in secret, where no one, especially his father, could see him and accuse him of being soft, of acting like a crybaby, and punish him for not behaving like a future Death Eater should. Yet this was the third time in the past two weeks that he had wept in either Lupin's or Snape's arms, as if he were a little boy once again. A small part of him felt ashamed, but the rest of him didn't care, because it felt so good to be held and comforted, to temporarily let go of his fears and worries, knowing that he had an adult, a parent--no, two parents--who would take care of everything.

In truth, Lupin was relieved to see Theodore and Dylan starting to act like children instead of miniature adults, wary and calculating beyond their years. Though actually, they were nearly adults, and he wanted to return at least a small portion of their stolen childhood years to them. The wolf stopped growling when it felt the tension drain out of Theodore's body, and Lupin said tenderly, "I love you, Theo. Everything will be all right; you'll see." Theodore gasped in surprise, then began crying even harder, but Lupin smiled, because that edge of hysteria and guilt was gone from the boy's voice, and his sobs contained more joy than sorrow. 

"It's all right, shh, it's all right," Lupin whispered, and he had to blink back a few tears himself, because not so long ago, he had resigned himself to never having children, to spending his life alone. But he had won back his long-lost love, Severus, and they now had not one, but two, foster sons. It was not in his nature to be bitter, but he would never forget those many years he had spent alone before returning to Hogwarts, and it made him all the more grateful for the family he had now. "I have a family," Lupin whispered joyfully, more to himself than Theodore, but Theodore heard him and smiled through his tears.

"I'm sorry," Theodore said, looking a little embarrassed when he finally stopped crying and pulled away from Lupin.

"Don't be," Lupin said with a smile, and handed Theodore a handkerchief when he started to wipe his face on his sleeve. "That's what families are for, after all--to love and support each other. I assure you that I've wept on Severus's shoulder a time or two, and vice versa."

Theodore gaped at him openmouthed. "Pr-Professor Snape's...wept...?" he stammered.

"Oops!" Lupin said with an impish smile. "Guess I let the cat out of the bag. Don't tell Severus I told you that; it'll just make him grumpy."

"Ah...don't worry," Theodore said weakly. "I won't say anything." That was the last thing on earth that he would do! He still found Snape rather intimidating, even if Dylan didn't. Lupin grinned at him, and he smiled back shyly, and they began packing up his things.

"Serafina would have a fit if she could see this," Lupin said as he picked up the fallen books and put them back on the shelves or added them to the stack that Theodore was taking with him. He carefully smoothed out a creased page on a Quidditch rules manual before placing it on the "take with" stack.

Theodore laughed as he threw some clothes into the trunk they were packing. "I wouldn't want to be in those Aurors' shoes if they treated Sera's books the way they did mine! You saw what she did to that Hufflepuff kid who ruined her books--" He abruptly broke off his sentence, remembering that Lupin wasn't--officially, at least--supposed to know that.

Lupin just grinned and winked at him. "Oh, everyone knows who hexed the boy--unofficially, anyway. And besides, I'm not your teacher during the summer, remember?"

"Yes, Prof--," Theodore said started to say, but something in Lupin's eyes prompted him to change it to, "um, I mean...Remus." It felt a little strange and awkward to be calling his Professor by his first name, but Lupin beamed at him so happily that he decided to try and do it more often--when Snape wasn't around, of course.

"Is anything missing?" Lupin asked when they were done packing, looking more serious now. Nothing seemed to be broken, but the room had clearly been ransacked. "I don't blame Severus for being angry; it's disgraceful, the way the Aurors tore the house apart. If they've taken any of your personal belongings, I'll speak to Arthur and make sure they're returned to you--"

"It's okay, sir," Theodore assured him. "Nothing's missing except for...well, except for a couple of books on the Dark Arts." Theodore flushed and hastened to add, "They aren't on the Ministry's proscribed list!" 

To his relief, Lupin just smiled at him, looking a little amused. "I know Severus always calls me a softhearted Gryffindor fool, but I'm not so naive that I don't realize that most of the Slytherins have more knowledge of the Dark Arts than is taught at Hogwarts, Theo."

"They aren't quite illegal, but they're sort of on the borderline," Theodore admitted, since Lupin didn't seem to be upset about it. "Not the kind of books I could bring to Hogwarts."

"Do you want me to get them back?" Lupin asked calmly.

"No, that's all right," Theodore said. "It would probably look bad to the Ministry, wouldn't it?" He smiled ruefully, thinking of the Death Eaters and his Dark Arts lessons with Snape, and added, "Besides, I guess I've had more than enough of the Dark Arts this past year!" Despite his words, he still felt a slight twinge of regret at losing his books, but it vanished when he saw Lupin's approving smile. "All I really wanted from the house was this." He held up the box containing his keepsakes from Rafe. "The Ministry can have everything else."

"Severus won't let them," Lupin said, with just a hint of vindictive pleasure. He could forgive a great deal; he could understand that the Aurors who had searched the house were still filled with anger and grief at their comrades' deaths. He might have forgiven, though he could not condone, what they had done to the rest of the house, but he could not forgive them for ransacking a child's room and leaving what were clearly harmless, childish, and well-loved treasures strewn across the floor. At the very least, they could have put things back where they had found them after the search was done; Theodore was not to blame for his parents' crimes. 

Lupin resolved to have a word with the Minister of Magic about this, even though he knew that Severus was probably going to deliver a blistering, scathing lecture to Arthur, the Aurors, and just about any other Ministry employee who happened to cross his path. Then he made a mental note to check on Serafina, Draco, Vincent, and Gregory, whose homes had probably also been searched, and make sure that the Aurors had not mistreated them or their mothers in any way.

Lupin and Theodore returned downstairs to find Tonks, Dylan, and Severus straightening up the living room. The overturned furniture had been set upright again, spilled contents returned to the proper cabinets and drawers, and Tonks was sweeping up some broken glass. From the flushed, chastened look on Tonks's face and the way her former Professor was glaring at her, Lupin concluded that Snape had already delivered a tirade to the only Ministry representative currently present, even though it was hardly her fault.

"You didn't have to do this," Theodore said, looking a little shocked. 

"It's the least I can do," Tonks said earnestly. "I feel really bad about what the Aurors did to your home, Theodore. When I find out who was responsible, they're going to get an earful from me!"

"And they're going to get a bill from me," Snape said in an acerbic voice, staring pointedly at the broken glass.

"They broke your grandmother's good china," Tonks said apologetically. "I was able to cast a Reparo spell on most of it, but these were too far gone, I'm afraid."

"It's no big deal," Theodore told her, feeling a little more friendly towards the young Auror now. The portrait of his grandmother started to protest, but Snape glared at her and raised his wand, and she quickly fell silent. "But...thank you," he said, then turned to include Dylan and Snape in his gaze. "All of you. I really appreciate it."

Dylan smiled, and Snape's icy glare thawed a little. "All packed, Mr. Nott?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Theodore replied, motioning to his trunk. Then he asked in plaintive voice, "Can we please go now?"

To his surprise, Snape actually chuckled and patted him on the shoulder in an almost indulgent manner. "Yes, Theodore, let's go home."

So Theodore left the mansion without a backwards glance and with no regret; although he had lived there for sixteen years, it had never been his home. Tonks escorted them out, locked the gate, and bid them farewell, and Theodore returned to his real home--Lupin's cottage--with his family.

*** 

When they got home, Lupin contacted Arthur and had a private talk with him; he was shocked and distressed to learn what the Aurors had done at the Nott mansion, and promised to look into it. Lupin made some other inquiries, and was able to confirm, to his relief, that no harm had been done to the homes of the Crabbes, Goyles, Malfoys, and Averys--or to the occupants of those homes. While the Aurors had been brusque bordering on rude, they had not abused their authority because the Death Eater wives had wisely made sure that their lawyers were present while the search warrants were being served. Apparently the Aurors had vented their frustation on the Nott home only because there had been no one present to witness it or stop them.

Meanwhile, Snape contacted his own lawyer, and the two of them descended upon the Ministry the next day. Lupin stayed home with the boys, so he was not sure exactly what was said to whom, but a couple of days later, they received letters of apology not only from the Aurors who had personally conducted the search on Nott Manor, but from the Minister of Magic himself, as well as a bag of Galleons to pay for the damage done to the house.

Lupin raised an eyebrow and said, "That lawyer of yours must be good, Severus."

Snape smirked and said with satisfaction, "Very good."

"Good usually means expensive," Theodore said nervously. Just how much was Snape spending on this lawyer, anyway? He wasn't sure about the legalities involved in fostering a child, but if the Nott account at Gringotts was frozen, then that meant Snape wasn't drawing any money from it for either the lawyer or Theodore's upkeep.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Nott," Snape said with a careless wave of his hand. "Besides, the Donners are paying half of her fee, since she's also working on Dylan's behalf." Theodore said nothing, but still looked worried, and Snape took a closer look at him and frowned a little. "I mean it, Theodore; it's nothing to be concerned about. While I'm no longer the Snape heir, I have quite a tidy savings from my years of working at Hogwarts. I get free room and board, and I can write off most of my potion supplies and books as business expenses. I have little else to spend my salary on but clothes, and one can only wear so many robes..."

"Yes, you're quite the fashion plate," Lupin joked.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape said automatically, but without much heat.

"And of course you do spend some of your money on sweets, as well on robes for your werewolf lover," Lupin continued with a grin, plucking at the robe he was wearing, a golden-brown one that Severus had given him for Christmas.

"Yes, well, now that you're employed again, you can start buying your own clothes," Snape grumbled.

"Damien thought it was odd that you were so well-dressed when you started teaching again last year," Dylan told Lupin. "He said the robes you wore the first year you worked at Hogwarts were all patched and faded. He thought maybe Dumbledore gave you an advance on your salary, but Professor Snape bought them for you, didn't he?" He and Lupin grinned at each other, while Snape flushed.

"Hmm," Snape muttered. "Mr. Pierce is more perceptive than I thought; I'll have to keep that in mind in the future."

"Damien's a clever boy," Lupin said.

"When he's not chasing girls, which is most of the time," Snape retorted. "Still, his grades did go up this year; he actually passed his Potions O.W.L. Your influence, I assume, Rosier." He gave Dylan an approving nod, and the boy smiled, looking pleased and proud.

"Yes, sir, we've all been studying together this past school year--me, Damien, Blaise, and Theo." Dylan laughed. "I told Damien he wouldn't graduate if he didn't spend more time on studying and less on girls!"

Snape actually smiled, and he said, "Good advice, Mr. Rosier."

Theodore felt a little bemused as he watched the three of them banter, not quite sure how the conversation had managed to turn so quickly from money to Damien's grades. And he felt just a touch of wistful envy at how easily Dylan was able to joke with Snape. Then he silently chided himself for acting as stupid as Draco, who was always jealous of Dylan for being the "teacher's pet". Dylan was his best friend, after Blaise, and his foster brother; besides, why should he be jealous, anyway? Unlike Draco, he had spent most of his six years at Hogwarts trying to avoid Snape's attention rather than attract it. But that was because he had thought Snape was a Death Eater, only it had turned out that he wasn't; it was all so confusing...

"So...it's okay?" Theodore asked Snape uncertainly. "About the lawyer, I mean. I'll pay you back after the estate is turned over to me..."

"I told you not to worry about it, Theodore," Snape said firmly, then grinned wickedly. "Besides, it gives me great pleasure to thwart the Ministry, so I consider it money well-spent. Don't deny me this one small indulgence."

"Uh, yes, sir," Theodore said meekly, wondering if Snape had just made a joke. Did the Potions Master even have a sense of humor? Apparently so, because he laughed in a low, husky, and slightly sinister voice.

That sound seemed to have a rather unusual effect on Lupin: his face became flushed, his eyes went a little glassy, and he leaned back and stretched out on the couch languidly, smiling at Snape in a way that could only be called "come-hither".

Snape's black eyes went wide, and he glanced at the calendar on the wall. "Oh, dammit," he muttered. "I nearly forgot; I've got to start brewing the Wolfsbane Potion tomorrow." Lupin just grinned at him, baring his teeth in a way that was both feral and sensual.

Theodore and Dylan both felt their faces grow hot. "Ah, why don't we go for a walk, Theo?" Dylan hastily suggested. 

"Great idea!" Theodore said, jumping up and heading for the door.

"Make it a _long_ walk, boys," Lupin purred, as Snape's normally pale face turned bright red. 

Theo and Dylan ran out of the cottage and didn't look back, but they could hear Snape roar, "LUPIN!" and the sound of the werewolf's laughter as the door slammed shut behind them.

"That was weird," Theodore muttered, as they strolled through the woods. It was still hard for him to believe that Snape and Lupin were a couple, but he had just been presented with incontrovertible evidence that it was true. Of course, their kiss in the Great Hall in front of the entire school had been pretty convincing, too.

"You'll get used to it," Dylan assured him. "Though I have to admit, I've never seen Lupin act that way before. Hmm...Snape said something about brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, which means that the moon will be full soon. Do you suppose it's some sort of werewolf thing?" He snickered. "Werewolf hormones?"

"What, the full moon doesn't just turn them into wolves, it makes them horny?" Theodore asked skeptically. "I don't remember reading that in our DADA textbook!"

"Well, the full moon brings out their animal instincts, doesn't it?" Dylan theorized. "Isn't sex a primal instinct?"

That conjured up images of a libidinous Lupin pouncing on Snape every time the full moon rolled around, and Theodore winced. "I like Lupin, and I even like Snape now that I know he's not a Death Eater, but I really would rather not have to imagine them having sex, if it's all the same to you!" Dylan just laughed, and Theodore asked dryly, "Which one of us is supposed to be gay?"

Dylan laughed again. "No, I don't really want that mental image in my head, either--nobody wants to picture their parents having sex, after all!" Theodore smiled a little at that reminder that Snape and Lupin were, after an odd fashion, their parents now. "I'm just glad that they're together," Dylan continued. "They're my two favorite teachers, so I was happy when I found out that they didn't really hate each other, even though it was kind of shocking. I liked Lupin since I first met him; he talked to me about my dad, and he was nice to all of us Slytherins. Besides, don't you think that Snape's nicer when Lupin's around?"

Theodore thought it over; he doubted that Snape would have come to the Slytherin dorm bearing mugs of hot chocolate if Lupin hadn't put him up to it. And he did seem to be less intimidating and bad-tempered when Lupin was around. On the other hand, he also spent a lot of time acting grumpy and embarrassed when Lupin teased him... "They fight a lot," he said uncertainly.

"Oh, it's just a game they play," Dylan said dismissively. "They do it all the time. I think it's almost second nature, since they had to pretend to be enemies at Hogwarts."

"Are you sure?" Theodore asked dubiously.

"I can tell when Snape's really mad and when he's not," Dylan said reassuringly. "He was really mad at those Aurors who wrecked your house, but not at Lupin."

Now that Theodore thought about it, Snape had been filled with a kind of cold, implacable fury at the Aurors' trashing of Nott Manor, and he had immediately done something about it. But with Lupin, while Snape blustered and grumbled and complained loudly, he never really did anything to stop the werewolf from teasing him or nuzzling him or snuggling up against him, so Theodore supposed that Dylan was right. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "You know them better than I do, after all."

"You'll get used to it," Dylan told him again.

They took a long and leisurely walk through the woods, and picked a few wild herbs they recognized to bring back to Snape for his potions. After about an hour, Dylan asked, "Do you suppose it's safe to go back?"

"I guess," Theodore said. "Why're you asking me? You're the expert on our two lovebirds."

"Yeah, but you've got more experience with...ah...this sort of thing," Dylan teased him.

Theodore flushed and glared at his friend. "An hour would be enough for me and Blaise; I don't claim to be an expert on werewolf mating habits."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to chance it," Dylan said with a grin. "We can't stay out here all day, after all."

"You can go in first, then," Theodore grumbled good-naturedly. "Snape's less likely to turn you into a toad if you interrupt them."

"Coward," Dylan teased.

"Teacher's pet," Theodore retorted, but he smiled. It was kind of fun, having a brother to joke around with. He had always wanted a brother or sister; he had been lonely as a child, and his father's abuse might have been easier to bear if he'd had someone to confide in and support him. Of course, with his luck, his hypothetical brother or sister would have turned out as nasty as his father, so maybe it was just as well that he had been an only child...

When they arrived back at the cottage, just to be on the safe side, Dylan knocked loudly on the door and called out, "We're home!" 

"Come on in," Lupin's cheerful voice called out, and the two boys cautiously entered the cottage. 

To their relief, their foster parents were fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea. Snape looked the same as always, clad in black with a sour expression on his face. Lupin, on the other hand, looked just a little disheveled: his robes were slightly rumpled and his hair slightly mussed, as if he had just risen from bed and forgotten to comb it. His face was a little flushed, but it seemed to be from happiness rather than embarrassment; he was practically glowing, and he was smiling in a very satisfied and smug way. In fact, the expression on his face was remarkably similar to Millicent's cat after he'd just consumed a big bowl of cream; Theodore half expected Lupin to start purring. 

"Have a nice walk?" Lupin asked, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes as Snape blushed and glared at him.

"Yes, sir," Dylan replied. "We found some herbs on our walk, and we thought maybe you could use these," he added, handing the plants to Snape.

Snape accepted them, looking a little less grumpy. "Yes, I can, thank you. Good thinking, Rosier, Nott." The two boys beamed at the rare compliment from the Potions Master, and Snape said to Lupin in a slightly superior tone of voice, "I'll bet such a thought would never have occurred to your Gryffindors."

Lupin just smiled and shook his head. "They're not _my_ Gryffindors, Severus."

That made Theodore even happier, and he and Dylan exchanged a grin. Ever since Lupin had gone public about his relationship with Snape and moved into the dungeon, the Slytherins had all come to regard him with a sort of proprietary air, as if he were an honorary Slytherin instead of a Gryffindor. "He's one of us," Pansy had declared proudly when they had noticed Lupin moving his things into Snape's quarters near the end of term, and no one had disputed that, not even Draco. It pleased Theo to hear Lupin denying allegiance to the Gryffindors, even though he knew that wasn't really Lupin's intent.

Snape shot a glare Lupin's way, but Lupin just grinned at him, and Snape's lips twitched upwards in a reluctant smile. Maybe Dylan was right, Theodore realized, and all their arguments really were just some kind of game that they played.

"The full moon is nearly upon us," Snape informed the boys in a haughty voice. "Which sometimes makes the werewolf behave in an irrational manner." He glared at Lupin again; Lupin gave him an innocent, wide-eyed, "Who, me?" look. "Tomorrow I must start brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, and you two will assist me. It will be good practice for your Potions N.E.W.T. and besides, there's no need for you to remain idle all summer."

"Yes, sir," Dylan and Theodore chorused obediently.

Lupin smiled at them and said, "But for now, perhaps you two can help me get dinner ready."

"Yes, sir," the boys said again.

"Well, I must admit, they certainly are better behaved than most of the Gryffindors," Lupin said with a rueful grin, and Snape smiled back at him smugly. Dylan and Theodore grinned at each other, then went to help Lupin in the kitchen.

*** 

True to his word, Snape put the boys to work assisting him with the Wolfsbane Potion the following day. Dylan, of course, was thrilled to have the chance to work on a complicated potion, and Theodore didn't really mind. It was interesting, and Snape seemed much more relaxed and less intimidating than he did in the classroom, maybe because there were no Gryffindors present (Lupin didn't count, of course). Whatever the reason, although Snape watched them closely as they worked, he didn't have that threatening, ready-to-pounce-on-the-slightest-mistake look in his black eyes that he did in class. Then again, Dylan and Theodore had worked on the potion before in class, and they always paid close attention to Snape's instructions (unlike the Gryffindors, Theo thought to himself in a smugly superior way), and thus rarely made mistakes--and certainly never made the same mistake twice.

Making the potion was a great deal of work, and created an unpleasant smell that seemed to permeate the entire cottage, but it was all worth it when Lupin smiled at them gratefully and thanked them for helping Snape with the potion. "It means a great deal to me," he said, and Theodore could well believe it, remembering the scratches carved into the basement walls by the werewolf's claws. If they could cut into the walls that way, how much more easily could they have sliced into his own flesh...? Theodore shuddered at the thought, and from the look in Dylan's eyes, he was thinking the same thing. They said nothing to each other or to Lupin, but in unspoken agreement worked even more diligently on the potion from then on, so much so that Snape praised their efforts in a surprised but pleased voice.

Besides, at least working on the potion kept them busy; the nearest village was several miles away, and there was not much to do there, anyway. The boys did entertain themselves at home (when they weren't working on the potion) by reading, flying on their broomsticks and practicing Quidditch moves, and playing cards or chess. Snape would sometimes play a game of chess against Dylan or Theo; Lupin did not. Snape pointed out one day in a slightly condescending voice, "Lupin's not much good at strategy--typical Gryffindor."

Lupin just grinned in a good-natured manner and said, "No, deviousness is your forte, Severus; I could never compete with your sharp Slytherin wit." Snape looked a little disappointed that Lupin didn't rise to the bait, and continued his game with Theodore.

However, Snape did not intend to let the boys spend the entire summer in a leisurely manner. He was determined to keep them busy, partly to keep them distracted from their grief, not wanting to give them too much time to brood, and also just on principle--it grated on his nerves to see children idling and lazing about. Lupin pointed out that it was their summer vacation, after all, and kept him from working the boys too hard, but he agreed that it wouldn't hurt to assign the boys some chores. "It builds character," Lupin told them cheerfully. 

They looked a little dubious, but under Snape's stern gaze, all they said was, "Yes, Professor."

So they helped with the cleaning, and joined Lupin for long walks in the woods to gather firewood. Fortunately, there was no need to chop the wood; they simply picked up the plentiful deadfall that lay on the ground under the trees, and Lupin seemed to enjoy the opportunity to spend some time with the boys. He pointed out things on their walks that they might otherwise have missed: a bird's nest high up in a tree; a fox's burrow in the ground, concealed by some bushes; a patch of herbs that Snape might find useful as potion ingredients. It soon became a regular habit for the three of them to walk through the woods together even when they didn't need any firewood.

They also helped Lupin in his garden; he showed them a small, weed-choked plot out behind the cottage. "I'm afraid I've let it go to seed, so to speak, these past couple of years," he said a little sadly.

"What did you grow?" Theodore asked curiously, wondering if Lupin had been growing some sort of special herbs for potions; "grubbing about in the dirt," in his mother's opinion, was not something a respectable wizard did, although no doubt Professor Sprout would take exception to that remark.

"Mostly vegetables and a few herbs," Lupin replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "My income has been rather limited up until recently, so I grew some of my own food out of necessity."

Snape looked rather shamefaced at that, although there was no hint of accusation or reprimand in Lupin's voice. "Well, it's not necessary for you to do that now," he said gruffly. "So I don't see the point in starting another garden when we'll only be here for a few months."

"It's not all that bad," Lupin said. "Or it won't be, once we get rid of the weeds. Some of the plants have survived--there's still a patch of mint growing here, and some chamomile there. We could make our own tea with it. We can buy our vegetables in the village, but it might be nice to grow some herbs--you could use them in your potions, Severus."

"Perhaps you could plant a patch of Wolfsbane, then," Snape said sourly, and Lupin laughed.

But in the end, they decided not to plant any aconite, since it was a potentially deadly poison except when properly prepared by an expert, and Lupin didn't think it prudent to leave a patch of poisonous plants growing unattended when they returned to school. But they did plant a few common, harmless herbs such as rosemary and lavender that could be used in cooking or in Snape's potions. 

Part of Theodore regarded the thought of digging and weeding with distaste, even though he knew it was the snobbish pureblood pride his parents had instilled in him. Still, pureblood pride or not, Lupin had taken him in when nobody else wanted him, so Theodore swallowed his objections. And Lupin smiled at him so warmly that any resentment Theodore might have felt instantly melted away. 

_I don't have to be like my parents,_ Theodore told himself firmly. He silently promised himself would make a conscious effort to change, and forget about things like blood purity and what was "proper" behavior for a pureblood. In fact, considering what his parents had been like, he probably couldn't go wrong by simply doing the opposite of what they had been telling him to do all these years. He felt much happier after that, and eventually came to enjoy working in the garden with Lupin.

Lupin also had Theodore and Dylan assist him with the cooking; he prepared most of their meals, because, as he cheerfully claimed, "I'm the only one of us who knows how to cook."

"I know how to cook," Snape said indignantly.

"Oh, really?" Lupin asked, raising his eyebrows. "When was the last time you cooked anything?"

"When I lived alone for a few years in-between graduating from Hogwarts and becoming a teacher there," Snape said, a little sheepishly.

"That was, what...? Sixteen years ago?" Lupin asked pointedly.

"Well, I could if I wanted to," Snape said huffily. "It's all a matter of following the recipe and mixing the proper ingredients together. It certainly can't be any harder than preparing the Wolfsbane Potion!"

Lupin chuckled, recalling that Hermione had said almost the exact same thing last summer, and Severus had scoffed at her words. He gave his lover a sly look and said, "Actually, you have cooked something more recently than that, come to think of it."

"I have?" Snape asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Those Valentine's Day chocolates you made for me," Lupin cooed.

Snape's face turned bright red and Theodore, who was slicing carrots for that night's dinner, nearly chopped off his finger by accident. "Professor Snape made Valentine's Day chocolates for you?!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, Severus is quite the romantic," Lupin said, smiling lovingly at Snape.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin!" Snape snapped. He said that particular phrase quite often, and Theodore was finally beginning to understand that he didn't really mean anything by it. Lupin certainly didn't seem to be the least bit intimidated; he leaned over and kissed Snape on the cheek. Snape turned even redder in response, and retreated to the living room, hiding behind a copy of the Daily Prophet, pretending to peruse the paper until dinner was ready.

*** 

In addition to wood-gathering, gardening, and cooking, Snape also insisted that the boys do some studying to prepare themselves for the coming school year, and in Theodore's case, his N.E.W.T.s. They grumbled a little about it--out of Snape's earshot, of course--but secretly they felt relieved. They both had memories that they would rather not dwell on, and their chores and their studies kept them occupied enough that they didn't have to think about them.

The boys had been working in the garden with Lupin one morning, then helped him prepare lunch and do the dishes, then spent a couple of hours studying. Lupin finally chased them outside to "get some fresh air". They willingly left their books and ran out with their broomsticks; Lupin watched from the window as they practiced some Quidditch maneuvers.

"I think you're working them too hard, Severus," Lupin said.

"I'm doing it on purpose," Snape told him solemnly. "They're not normal, well-adjusted children like Granger or the Weasleys. They were both recently orphaned, and they spent years having their heads filled with Death Eater indoctrination. If we give them a lot of free time, they won't spend it playing; they'll spend it brooding about their parents. They need a routine, something to keep them busy."

"Too busy to think?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Yes," Snape replied.

"I'm not sure that avoiding and bottling up their emotions is the right approach, Severus," Lupin said, a worried look in his blue eyes. "They'll have to deal with their feelings sooner or later."

"Repression is the typical Slytherin way to deal with emotions, after all," Snape said with an ironic smile. Then his expression turned serious and he said, "They're not ready to deal with those emotions right now, especially Theodore."

"How will we know when they're ready?" Lupin asked.

"As you said, they can't bottle up their feelings forever." Of course, Snape had managed to do so for nearly twenty years, but the boys didn't have nearly as much self-control as he did. "Eventually it will spill out, no matter how many chores we give them. They'll deal with it in their own time, when they're ready. And we'll be there to help them."

Lupin smiled at Snape. "You're much better with children than you think, Severus."

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape replied automatically, in an almost distracted manner.

Lupin ignored him, slipped his arms around Snape's waist, and laid his head on Snape's shoulder. "I love you, Severus," he said softly.

Snape hesitated for a moment; well, the boys were outside, after all, and Lupin's arms around him, and Lupin's silky hair brushing against his cheek, felt very good... "I love you, too, Remus," he replied, and put his arms around Lupin.

Lupin whispered into Snape's ear, "You know, I think the boys will stay outside for awhile, and we haven't had much chance to be alone lately." He bared his teeth at Snape and growled playfully. "Besides, the full moon is tomorrow, and the wolf is hungry. I feel I've been quite restrained, under the circumstances, for the boys' sakes, but..."

Snape glanced out the window; the boys were quite occupied with their Quidditch practice, laughing as they chased each other around on their broomsticks. Perhaps Lupin was right; maybe he had been overdoing it a little with their studies...but that made it all the more likely that they would stay outside and work off their energy for at least an hour, maybe more... "Then let's not waste any time," Snape purred. Lupin grinned at him, and they headed to their bedroom, locking the door and casting a silence spell, just in case.

They underestimated the wolf's hunger, however. Dylan and Theodore returned to find the house oddly quiet; either their guardians had gone to the village--unlikely, since Lupin had just gone there for groceries the other day--or...their eyes drifted towards the bedroom door.

"Silence spell," Theo said, blushing a little. He had used it often enough on his and Blaise's room at school. "Um...maybe we should go back out?"

Dylan shrugged. "Well, we can't hear anything, after all. We can just sort of pretend like nothing's happening; just try not to think about it."

"Easier said than done," Theodore said darkly, and Dylan laughed.

"Anyway, it's getting late. We could put supper on for Lupin; he's been looking a little fatigued lately, I guess because the moon is almost full."

"I'm sure he's tired, but I'm not sure it's because of the moon," Theodore muttered, giving the bedroom door a pointed look. Actually, he didn't begrudge Snape and Lupin a little time alone together, but it suddenly reminded him of how much he missed Blaise, even though school had let out less than two weeks ago.

Their foster parents emerged from their bedroom just as dinner was ready. Snape looked exhausted and a little embarrassed, while Lupin looked tired but very content. "How wonderful!" Lupin exclaimed. "You got dinner ready!" He leaned over to sniff at the cauldron of stew that Theodore was placing on the table. "It smells delicious. Thank you very much."

The boys smiled at him. Dylan said, "It's nothing, Prof...um...Rem..." He hesitated, glancing at Snape. "It's nothing, sir," he finished, a little lamely.

Lupin grinned. The boys had finally started calling him by his first name, but only when Severus wasn't around. Although they were still a bit hesitant about it; Lupin joked that he should change his name to "Prof...um...Remus".

"Oh, I don't care if you call the werewolf by his first name, Rosier," Snape said gruffly. He already knew that they were doing it behind his back, and since it seemed to make Lupin happy, he didn't really care, so long as they didn't start calling him "Severus". Lupin smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Cut that out, Lupin!" he growled, but his werewolf lover just laughed and ignored him.

They all sat down to dinner, and Lupin tucked into his food heartily. "I really do appreciate you fixing dinner tonight," he told Theodore and Dylan. "The wolf, ah, tends to work up an appetite near the full moon," he added, giving Snape a sly grin.

Snape choked on his food and turned red; the boys blushed as well. As Snape turned to glare at him, Lupin said in a very amused voice, "My, you Slytherins blush so easily! And here I thought you were supposed to be so cynical and worldly-wise...one would almost think you were Gryffindors..."

"Now see here!" Snape said indignantly. "There's no need to be so insulting!"

This hadn't quite escalated into a real argument yet, but Dylan thought now would be a good time to change the subject. "Excuse me, Prof...um...Remus?"

"Yes, Dylan?" Lupin asked pleasantly. Snape continued to fume, but seemed to be calming down a little.

"I was wondering, sir," Dylan said to Lupin, "if it would be all right if Damien and Blaise came to visit us during the summer." Theodore flashed him a grateful look, and he smiled at his friend; he knew that Theo must be missing Blaise. "I'd like to practice some Quidditch maneuvers with Damien, and--" A burst of inspiration struck him, and he turned to Snape and added virtuously, "--we could all study together, get ready for the coming year and help Blaise and Theo prepare for their N.E.W.T.s."

Snape gave Dylan a wry look that said he was aware he was being manipulated, but said, "Actually, that's not a bad idea. Theodore and Blaise can use the practice, and it won't hurt you and Pierce to become familiar with the types of questions that will be on the N.E.W.T.s, even if you won't be taking them until your seventh year. It wouldn't hurt Mr. Pierce to do a little extra studying, period, for that matter."

"Then it's okay?" Theodore asked eagerly. "We can invite them over?"

Lupin and Snape exchanged an indulgent smile. "Of course," Lupin said. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Just let me know when they're coming so I can unblock the fireplace; they're not able to Apparate yet, and it's a bit far to come by broomstick." Out of habit, Lupin kept the fireplace warded to keep out anyone but a select group of trusted friends, such as Sirius, Branwen, and Dumbledore. The war was over, but Snape didn't think they should let their guard down too far: not everyone was happy about the legislation that had granted werewolves equal rights; and there were some Death Eater sympathizers who, while not convicted of any crimes, were not happy with the outcome of the war, not to mention the fact that Rabastan Lestrange was still at large.

"Thank you, sir!" Theodore said, his face lighting up, and Lupin and Snape exchanged another smile. Just then, they heard something scratching at the kitchen window, and looked up to a see an owl hovering outside it.

Snape got up to take a closer look at the bird and the letter it was holding. "Hmm, speak of the devil--it seems to be from Mr. Pierce." He opened the window and the bird flew in, dropped the letter on the table in front of Dylan, then flew back out again.

"It's from Damien," Dylan said, confirming Snape's guess, and tore open the envelope.

*** 

Dear Dylan,

I still can't believe that you knew all along about Lupin and Snape and didn't tell us! But keeping secrets is a Slytherin trait, I guess. And I'm still having trouble believing Potter's story in the Daily Prophet about how "embracing both my Gryffindor and Slytherin qualities" helped him defeat You-Know-Who! I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended that the Savior of the Wizarding World is claiming fellowship with us. Hey, if Potter wants to be an honorary Slytherin, do you suppose we could make him our Seeker and kick Malfoy off the team?

Speaking of Malfoy, you'll never guess who's been coming 'round to tea lately--Narcissa and Draco Malfoy! Narcissa and my mum used to be friends in school, although of course she married into the Malfoy family and moved out of our social circle. But my mum has a soft spot for her; don't ask me why--it's not like Narcissa's gone out of her way to be friendly to us all these years, though I guess that's a good thing. If she had, she might have gotten us involved in Death Eater business, and I might be sending you this letter from Azkaban!

Anyhow, apparently she and my mother were roommates back at Hogwarts, even though Mum's a year older than Narcissa. She says Narcissa was this spoiled, sheltered little kid who had never been away from her family for longer than a couple of days before, and she missed them so much that she used to cry herself to sleep at night. Hard to picture, huh, snooty Narcissa Malfoy being a homesick little girl? My mother's always been a bit of soft touch for a Slytherin; every time a stray cat shows up, she ends up adopting it--we've got four at home right now--and she ended up "adopting" Narcissa, took her under wing like a little sister until she got used to living at Hogwarts.

So anyway, Mum felt sorry for Narcissa and started inviting her over for tea. She seems grateful that my mother hasn't snubbed her the way her other pureblood friends have; apparently none of her so-called friends want anything to do with her now. She's actually pretty nice when she's not in her "I'm a Malfoy, so I'm better than everyone else" mode. Draco's not so bad either, now that he's been humbled a bit. Sometimes he starts acting all lordly like he used to, but I remind him that I don't have to suck up to him anymore. Though my mum scolded me when she caught me doing that; she said he's going through a hard time and that I should be nicer to him--give me a break! But I guess I do feel sorry for him, what with his dad trying to use him as shield against a Killing Curse. I always envied the Malfoys a little, but not anymore. My dad might not be as rich and powerful as Lucius Malfoy was, but I know he'd never sacrifice me to save his own skin.

So how are you and Theo doing? What's it like, living with Snape and Lupin? I hope Snape's not as scary at home as he is at school. Or was that part of his Death Eater act? It's kind of hard to tell; I guess he was pretty nice to us that night after the battle, when he and Lupin brought us the hot chocolate, though I think that was probably more Lupin's idea than Snape's. Write to me and let me know you're okay, so I know that Snape doesn't have you guys locked up in the dungeon or something, haha! Although since you said Lupin lives in a cottage, I guess it probably doesn't have a dungeon...

Damien

*** 

Dylan snickered as he read the last paragraph, then hastily stopped and folded up the letter when he saw Snape giving him a suspicious look. "Damien was just asking how we were doing," he said nonchalantly. To distract Snape, he added, "And he says that his mother has been inviting Narcissa and Draco Malfoy over for tea. She feels sorry for them, I guess, since she and Narcissa were friends in school."

"She always was a bit soft, for a Slytherin," Snape muttered.

"Look who's talking," Lupin said affectionately.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin!"

"You can invite Draco over too, if you like," Lupin said, ignoring Snape. "Or any of your other friends."

Dylan and Theodore exchanged a look; they didn't really consider Draco a "friend," but they knew that Lupin would want them to be nice to him. "Yeah, okay," Theodore said unenthusiastically. "We'll invite him over sometime. But maybe just Damien and Blaise to start off with." He wanted a chance to spend some time alone with Blaise, and it would be easier for them to sneak off on their own, perhaps for a walk in the woods, if Malfoy wasn't around.

"Of course," Lupin said agreeably. His left eyelid seemed to drop down slightly in a nearly imperceptible wink--or was Theodore just imagining it? Surely Lupin didn't know that he and Blaise were more than friends...or did he? Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had caught them in bed together the night of the battle, and maybe one of them had blabbed about it to Lupin. Well, Theodore supposed that Lupin was hardly likely to object, considering his own relationship with Snape, but the thought made him a little uneasy.

Theodore quickly finished his dinner and asked, "May I be excused?"

"Of course," Lupin said, and Theo hurried downstairs to write to Blaise. But once he picked up paper and quill, he didn't quite know what to say. There was so much he wanted to tell Blaise, so many things he'd had to keep hidden...he flushed a little, knowing that he hadn't treated Blaise very well at times this past year. He had snapped at Blaise and pushed him away when he inquired too closely about the Death Eaters or Theo's family, but he had only been trying to protect Blaise; he hoped his friend understood that. He wanted apologize to Blaise and tell him how much he loved him, but the words just didn't seem to come out right. He crumpled up his third attempt just as Dylan was coming down the stairs.

"Need help writing your love letters?" Dylan jokingly asked, and Theo hurled the wad of paper at his head. Dylan ducked and laughed, then saw that Theodore really was upset. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Nothing," Theodore said sullenly. 

"Aw, come on, Theo, you can tell me. We're friends, aren't we? Brothers, even."

Theodore looked up at Dylan, and his irritation eased. Occasionally, he was a little jealous of Dylan, even though he knew it was stupid, but he was happy to finally have a brother. Besides, it wasn't Dylan's fault that he was "so damn perfect," as Draco liked to say; Theodore's lips curved upwards in a smile, his good humor restored. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Dylan just laughed and tossed the crumpled letter into the wastebasket. "You'll have to aim better than that if you want to try out for the Quidditch team next year! You should, you know. You'd be really good at it, and Malfoy's got no power over you anymore."

That thought cheered Theodore up even more. "Maybe I will."

Dylan flopped down on his bed. "So seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Theodore repeated, but less hostilely this time. "It's just...there's so much I want to tell Blaise, about the Death Eaters and my family, and why I couldn't tell him the truth before. Too much to put into a letter."

"So don't," Dylan said, and Theodore looked confused. "I mean, don't put it in a letter. Tell him that you love him and you want to see him, but you can tell him all that other stuff in person when he comes."

Theodore gnawed on the end of his quill thoughtfully. "I suppose you're right."

"So go ahead and write your love letter--" Dylan grinned and Theodore grinned back at him. "--and I'll send it out with Blodwen first thing tomorrow morning." He went over and took his owl out of her cage and let her perch on his shoulder. She made a soft, affectionate hooting sound, and he stroked her feathers and fed her a treat. "Meanwhile, I'll write to Damien and invite him over. And I suppose we'll have to invite Draco over next time, to make Lupin happy. Damien says he's not so bad now." He handed over the letter to Theo, who laughed when he read the last part about being locked up in the dungeon. He picked up his quill and began writing, and this time the words flowed more easily.

*** 

"You only have one year of school left," Marius Zabini said to Blaise at breakfast. "It's time you started thinking about your future, son."

"With a Healing Gift, even a minor one, you could become a mediwizard," Olivia Zabini said brightly.

"Yes, but I don't know if I really want to go into medicine," Blaise replied. He had done well enough in his healing lessons, but he wasn't sure that it was something he would want to do for a living. Besides, he wasn't exactly squeamish, but he felt like he'd seen enough blood on the battlefield to last him a lifetime. "Professor Snape says that I have a 'scholarly bent,' and that I might consider becoming a teacher, historian, or researcher."

Marius frowned. "Well, I'm not sure that I really trust Snape..."

"He wasn't really a Death Eater!" Blaise said indignantly. "He was spying for the Order of the Phoenix all these years; the Headmaster said so! He's a hero!"

His parents looked startled by his vehemence, and his little sister, Allegra, who would be entering Hogwarts herself this fall, looked very eager and curious; the elder Zabinis had avoided talking about the Death Eaters and Blaise's role in the battle in front of her, and she was just dying to learn more about it.

Olivia saw the look in her daughter's eyes and hastily changed the subject, "Yes, well, I am sure you would be good at those things, Blaise, but a mediwizard earns a much better salary than most scholars..."

Blaise sighed a little, but didn't say anything. His mother was a bit touchy about their financial status, which was just barely above poverty level. They were a little better off than the Weasleys, with their obviously secondhand and hand-me-down clothes and school supplies, but just barely--and only because they didn't have as many mouths to feed. But that wasn't true anymore, come to think of it, now that Arthur Weasley had been promoted to Minister of Magic. And Blaise's parents, though poor, still held onto their Slytherin pride, and he knew how badly they wanted to give their children a better life.

"A researcher or historian is little more than a glorified clerk," Marius said in a slightly offended and haughty tone. 

Blaise sighed again; his parents meant well, but what good had pride done the Malfoys and the other Death Eater families? Wasn't it their pride that had gotten them into trouble in the first place, the need to prove their superiority over the Muggle-born and mixed-bloods? But he didn't want to start an argument, so he just said mildly, "Professor Blackmore's father was a researcher, a very respected one from what I've heard, and he was the Lord of a prominent pureblood family."

"Yes, Meredith Blackmore was famous for rediscovering many long-forgotten spells," Marius said, still frowning, "but perhaps he should have left well enough alone. One of his experiments blew up his laboratory and everyone in it..."

"It wasn't an accident!" Blaise said. "Professor Blackmore said that You-Know-Who..." He paused, then forced himself to say the Dark Lord's name. "That Voldemort was behind it."

His parents gasped, and Allegra's eyes grew wide and round. "Blaise!" Olivia snapped in a frightened and reproachful tone.

"He's dead, Mother," Blaise said calmly. "We don't have to fear him anymore. And besides, Professor Lupin said that fear was what gave Voldemort power." It was a little easier to say the second time around. "He was never afraid to call Voldemort by name even when he was still alive."

"I wouldn't pay such close heed to a werewolf's words," Olivia said disdainfully.

"It's thanks to Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons that I'm alive!" Blaise said hotly. "If it hadn't been for the spells he taught us, I might be dead! I certainly didn't learn how to defend myself from Lockhart or Umbridge!"

His parents gaped at him in shock, and Allegra asked eagerly, "What spells did you use? Did you really fight the Death Eaters?"

"Allegra!" Olivia snapped, glaring at her daughter, who opened her mouth to protest. 

Blaise shook his head at her slightly and gave her a look that said, "Not now; I'll tell you about it later." Allegra subsided reluctantly and shot him a look that said he had better keep his unspoken promise.

Blaise gave his mother a conciliatory smile and changed the subject. "I'm not really sure what profession I want to go into, Mother, but I promise that I'll think it over very seriously. I still have one year left to decide, after all."

His mother looked slightly pacified. "You are continuing in Potions and Herbology next term, aren't you, dear? They're required subjects for a mediwizard. Even if you're not sure that's what you want to do, you should keep all your options open--"

"Yes, Mother," Blaise replied patiently. 

"I thought Blaise was going to take over Daddy's shop one day," Allegra said. Their father ran a secondhand store in Diagon Alley, which certain Slytherins--including Draco--sometimes sneeringly referred to as a "junk shop". Ironically enough, Blaise had seen the Weasleys and Potter in there one summer when he had been helping his father at the shop. He had been working in back, though, and he didn't think that they had spotted him. He smiled a little; he was sure that Ron Weasley didn't know who owned the shop--no doubt he would be horrified to learn that he had been patronizing a store owned by a Slytherin. 

Percy Weasley stopped by on his own occasionally; he had become a regular customer ever since he had found a used book there called "Prefects Who Gained Power". Percy did realize that Blaise's father owned the shop, but it didn't seem to bother him, and he obviously hadn't considered it worth mentioning to his younger brother. He would even greet Blaise politely if he happened to see him in the store. Blaise had to admit that while Percy was a prig, he was a fair prig. He had never used his authority as a prefect to harass Blaise or any of the other Slytherins, nor had he insulted them the way that the other Gryffindors did almost as a matter of course. He had reported every minor infraction of the rules he came across, regardless of House, but that hadn't mattered much in Slytherin, since Snape was not about to punish his students on a Gryffindor prefect's say-so. 

Marius looked uncomfortable; he was not particularly proud of his job, because he viewed it as a step down from the days when his family had been a wealthy and influential family--not quite on par with the Malfoys, perhaps, but certainly equal to the Notts, Crabbes, or Goyles. "Yes, but with Blaise's grades, and a rare Healing Gift, he can do much better than running a junk shop," Marius told his daughter.

"It's not a 'junk shop'!" Allegra said indignantly. "There's lots of great stuff in your shop; they just need a little fixing up, that's all!" 

She loved sorting through all the "junk" in her father's shop: used books, broken wands, chipped and cracked china tea sets, tarnished goblets and cutlery, and old toys that were stained or torn or missing pieces. Her favorite toy was a black stuffed cat that had been missing one eye and coming apart at the seams, oozing stuffing through several tears on its body. When no one bought it, Marius gave it to Allegra, and her mother had patched it up with a Reparo spell and replaced the missing eye with a blue glass button. This gave the cat a rather mismatched look, since its remaining eye was green, but Allegra claimed that this made it look more mysterious, which was perfect for a witch's familiar.

Her parents smiled indulgently at her. "Yes, dear," Olivia said, "but every parent wants their children to have a better life than they did, no matter if they're a dishwasher or the Minister of Magic."

Marius scowled a little at being reminded that Arthur Weasley was now the Minister of Magic, and that he could no longer look down on his fellow impoverished wizard. But before he could say anything, a brown and white owl flew in through the open window and dropped a letter in front of Blaise.

Blaise recognized the owl as Dylan's. "Hello, Blodwen," he said feeding the owl a scrap of sausage from his plate. She accepted the treat, and a scratch, and seemed to be in no hurry to leave.

"Really, Blaise," Olivia complained, "must that animal sit at the table?"

"Sorry, Mother," Blaise said, coaxing the bird onto his shoulder. "She must be waiting for a reply." He eagerly tore open the letter, hoping that it was from Theo, who didn't have his own owl.

*** 

Dear Blaise,

Hi, Dylan is letting me use Blodwen to send this letter. It's a little weird living with Lupin and Snape, but they've been really nice to us, even Snape, in his own way. Dylan and I are sharing a bedroom in what used to be the basement; apparently that's where Lupin used to spend the full moon before the Wolfsbane Potion was invented because it's got all these claw marks on the wall! Lupin was a little embarrassed about that, so we covered them up with posters, but I didn't really mind.

You'll never guess who came to visit the first day we moved into Lupin's cottage: Weasley's mother! She brought us lunch, saying that she knew we would all be busy moving in and she wanted to make sure me and Dylan got "a decent meal"! Can you imagine? Weasley's mother, of all people, being worried that we might miss lunch?! I think Snape was a little offended that she seemed to be saying he might forget to feed us! But the funniest part was when she told Lupin and Snape that she thought they would make "wonderful parents"--I thought Snape was going to have a stroke! I don't get it, though; with the way Weasley acts, and the way Lucius Malfoy used to treat Weasley's dad, I figured they would all hate us. But Mrs. Weasley actually seems to like Snape; don't ask me why.

I like it here at Lupin's cottage. It's practically right in the middle of the woods, miles away from civilization (so that people wouldn't hear him howling during the full moon). You'd think I'd be bored, but it's quiet and peaceful. I've already had all the excitement I can stand, and anyway, Snape keeps us pretty busy. Dylan and I help Lupin out around the house, with the cooking and stuff, and Snape has us studying all the time ("You need to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s, Mr. Nott") or helping him make the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, which is actually pretty interesting. Making the potion, not studying, that is! But it's not so bad; there's not much to do around here, anyway, and Lupin makes him give us a break every so often. There's lots of room to fly out here, so Dylan and I have been practicing Quidditch maneuvers; I think I might try out for the team when school starts, now that I don't have to suck up to Malfoy anymore.

It's really, REALLY weird around here sometimes--like when Lupin starts nuzzling Snape (I kid you not!) or putting him his arm around him and acting all lovey-dovey. Snape always turns red and acts all grumpy and embarrassed, but Dylan says that it's just an act. I guess he's right, because Snape never pushes him away, and he never turns Lupin into a wolfskin rug, like he's always threatening to do. Like I said, it's really weird! But still, I like it here.

Lupin says we can have friends over if we want; Dylan's sending a letter to Damien, too. I really miss you, and there's so much I want to tell you; too much to fit in this letter. So please say you'll come. 

I love you.

Theo

*** 

Blaise felt a wide grin spreading across his face. He had been worried about Theodore, but from the letter, it sounded like he was happy living with Snape, Lupin, and Dylan. What pleased him even more was that Theo was surprisingly loquacious in his letter, and that he had said "there's so much I want to tell you". Theodore had been taciturn and guarded for as long as Blaise had known him, even after they became lovers, so he was happy that Theo finally seemed ready to open up to him.

In the days following the battle, Theodore had finally admitted that his father had cast a Memory Charm on Blaise during their Halloween outing in Hogsmeade, but he had not wanted to go into detail about it. Blaise suspected there was a lot more to it than that, but hadn't wanted to press for more information when Theo was still looking so pale and haunted and fragile. And on the day before school let out, he had come back to their dorm room with his eyes red and a stunned expression on his face, and had given Blaise two shocking pieces of news: first, that Snape and Lupin had decided to become his foster parents, and second, that his father had murdered his uncle years ago when he was a little boy. 

Theo had not wanted to discuss his uncle's death; he only told Blaise because he said that the news was soon going to become public when Dumbledore spoke to his uncle's family, and he didn't want Blaise reading about it in the Daily Prophet. So Blaise had remained silent and simply held Theo, trusting that his friend would confide in him when he was ready; now it seemed that his patience had paid off. And that final "I love you" made Blaise smile too; he already knew that, of course, but he still liked to hear Theo say it.

"What are you grinning about?" Allegra asked. "Is it from a girlfriend?"

Blaise quickly folded up the letter and stuffed it in his pocket; he wasn't sure how his parents would react to the news that he had a boyfriend, not a girlfriend. He knew that they expected him to have children and carry on the Zabini name someday as the "heir" of the family, despite the fact that there was little for him to inherit other than that name. "No, silly," Blaise said, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's from my friend, Theo."

"The one who was adopted by Professor Snape along with your other friend?"

"That's the one," Blaise replied, then turned to his parents. "He and Dylan want me to come visit them. Can I go? Professor Lupin says it's all right with him."

His parents frowned at each other. "I don't know," Olivia said. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you going off all alone to that werewolf's house in the woods..."

"Aw, come on, Mum!" Blaise protested. "Lupin's perfectly safe; he has Professor Snape to make him the Wolfsbane Potion, and besides, he's a hero of the war! He and the other werewolves fought against the Death Eaters. And I won't be alone--Damien's going, too."

"Well..." his mother said reluctantly.

"No," Marius said firmly.

"But Professor Lupin is--"

"It's not the werewolf that I'm worried about," Marius interrupted. "Although I'm not really crazy about the idea of you associating with him. I don't want you hanging around with the Nott boy anymore."

"Theo?" Blaise asked, feeling stunned. "But why?"

"He's a Death Eater's son, Blaise!" Marius snapped. "He nearly got you killed!"

"That wasn't his fault!"

"Did he or did he not drag you out in the middle of the night to meet the Death Eaters who were carrying out a sacrifice on the school grounds?"

"That was Draco," Blaise argued. "Theo didn't want to go, either, but Malfoy forced us to--"

"I don't care!" Marius said sharply, and Blaise's heart sank. His father was normally a kind and agreeable man, but when he made up his mind about something, he could not be swayed, and right now he had that stubborn, implacable look in his eyes. "I don't trust him."

"But Father," Blaise argued, "the danger is over. The Dark Lord is dead, and the Death Eaters are all dead or in Azkaban."

"Two of those Death Eaters were his parents," Marius pointed out. "How do we know he doesn't want to carry on their work one day?"

"He's not like that!" Blaise cried out. "Please, Father, you don't know him, so how can you judge him? But I lived with him for six years, and I know he's not like his parents!"

"I did meet the boy a few times at the Slytherin Quidditch matches," Marius reminded him. "He seemed like a sullen, very unpleasant boy to me."

"He only acted like that because he was scared of his father and the other Death Eaters! He's my best friend, Father, I know what he's really like! He's a good person; if you got to know him you'd see that--"

"You are not going to visit him, and that's final!" Marius said sternly.

"Please, just give him a chance," Blaise begged. "I won't go to Lupin's cottage, but let Theo come here for a visit, and get to know him. Give him a chance, that's all I'm asking! That's fair, isn't it?"

His words didn't seem to move his father, but his mother said hesitantly, "Marius, perhaps--"

"No, dear," Marius said firmly. 

"Everyone knew, or at least suspected, that the Notts were Death Eaters!" Blaise said. "But you've never objected to my friendship with Theo before!"

"We did not object," Marius said gravely, "because the Notts were an important family, with friends in high places. It would have been dangerous to offend them. But Marta and Thaddeus are now dead and disgraced, and this boy, even if he is innocent himself--and I'm not yet convinced that he is--will only hold you back."

"Hold me back?" Blaise asked numbly.

"From advancing in the wizarding world," Marius explained patiently. "Our fortunes fell, in part because my grandfather made some poor business investments, but mostly because my family chose not to ally themselves with the Malfoys and their ilk. The Malfoys saw to it that no one of importance would do business with us after that, and that is how we wound up running a junk shop and living in this little house instead of working for the Ministry and living in a grand mansion. But it was the right choice to make; Lucius Malfoy and his friends have been cast down, and we are not tainted by association with the Death Eaters. We--or rather, you and Allegra--have a chance to rise up in the world again, to become someone of worth. But that will not happen if you associate with a boy from a disgraced family, if people believe that you were involved with the Death Eaters yourself."

"I don't believe this!" Blaise shouted, clenching his fists in anger. "You want me to abandon my best friend for the sake of power? So I can rise up in the world and become someone of worth? Do you know how much like Lucius Malfoy you sound, Father?"

"I am your father; don't speak to me in that tone of voice!" Marius snapped, but he looked a little ashamed of himself.

"I thought I had something of worth already, Father," Blaise said softly. "I have a family and friends who love me. The Malfoys had power and wealth, and what did that get them? Lucius Malfoy is dead, and Draco has to live with the knowledge that his father tried to sacrifice him to save his own life."

"Of course we love you, son," Marius said, in an equally quiet voice. "We want you and Allegra to have a better life than the one we have now."

"The life we have now is okay," Allegra protested, but in a very subdued voice. 

Marius smiled at her a little sadly, and stroked her hair. "Of course it is, sweetheart. I'm able to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. But I want you to have more than the bare necessities; I want you to have a life that is better than 'okay'." He turned back to his son. "I don't want you living as a pauper and an outcast."

"But--"

"Your loyalty to your friend is touching, but only a Gryffindor can afford such high-minded ideals," Marius said. 

"I don't care about--"

"Our house was attacked while you were at school," Marius said, and Blaise stared at him in shock.

"Marius!" Olivia cried. "We agreed not to tell him--"

"He needs to know," Marius said grimly. "He needs to know the dangers involved. Tensions were running high this past year, ever since the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban. People began attacking Death Eater sympathizers--"

"But we aren't sympathizers! You just said that we lost our fortune because we wouldn't join the Death Eaters!"

"We are Slytherins, and to the ignorant masses, that is the same thing as being a Death Eater sympathizer. There was a great deal of vandalism, and a few beatings--"

"What happened?" Blaise asked anxiously. "Were you or Mother or Allegra hurt?"

"No," Marius replied. "But there were threats made, graffiti written on the house, a rock thrown through the window..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Blaise asked in dismay.

"We didn't want to worry you," Olivia told him. "There was nothing you could do, and we wanted you to remain at school where you were safe."

"Where we thought you were safe," Marius muttered, recalling how Blaise had gotten involved in the final battle.

"It's all right," Olivia assured her son. "No one was hurt, and Dumbledore actually sent some people to put protective wards on the house and the shop. I must admit, I didn't expect that, but we were very grateful."

"Not so surprising in retrospect, I suppose," Marius mused. "My father used to call him a bleeding heart liberal; he always stuck up for the underdog. He hired that werewolf teacher and got the Wolfsbane Potion distribution program started, after all..." Then he shook his head slightly, as if reminding himself to get back to the subject at hand. "So you see, Blaise, it is for your own good that I'm forbidding you to see this boy--and the Rosier boy, too, for that matter."

"But Father--" Blaise argued, knowing it was useless.

"I don't want to hear another word on the subject, Blaise," Marius said sternly. "My mind is made up."

"Yes, Father," Blaise whispered, and ducked his head so that no one would see that his eyes had filled with tears. He reminded himself that he and Theo would be separated only for the summer; his parents could not stop them from seeing each other at school. But right now, those three months seemed like an eternity. He pushed back his chair and rose from the table.

"Where are you going?" Olivia asked, looking concerned.

"I've got to write Theo and tell him I can't come visit him," Blaise said bitterly. "I can at least do that much, can't I?"

"Finish your breakfast first," Marius said, in a gentle voice.

"I'm not hungry," Blaise snapped, and left the table; his parents didn't try to stop him. He headed to his room, slammed the door, picked up his quill, and then hesitated. Theo had already been hurt enough; he didn't want to hurt his lover further by telling him that his parents had forbidden him to see Theo because he was a Death Eater's son. On the other hand, he couldn't evade Theo for three months without arousing his suspicion. He decided to invent a plausible excuse to put Theo off for now, and hope that he could persuade his father to change his mind, although he knew that wasn't very likely. He chewed on the end of his quill for a moment, then dipped it in the ink bottle and began to write.

*** 

Damien sent a note via his family owl that said: "Are you kidding? Of course I'd love to come over! I'm really curious to see where Lupin lives, and what he and Snape are like together at home! Would this weekend be okay?" Dylan and Theodore grinned when they read it.

"He says he can come this weekend, if that's all right with you," Dylan told Lupin.

"That's fine," Lupin said.

"What's taking Blodwen so long?" Theodore asked fretfully as they cleaned up the breakfast dishes. "Shouldn't she be back by now?" 

"Maybe Blaise is writing you a long reply," Dylan said, winking at him. Just then, Blodwen flew in through the open window. Theodore eagerly took the letter she was carrying and opened it.

*** 

Dear Theo,

I would love to come to visit you, but I can't right now. I promised my father that I would work in the shop during the summer. He runs the store all by himself during the school year, so I try to help him out during the holidays. Business has been good--which is great on one hand, because we need the money, but on the other hand, it doesn't give my dad much chance to take a break. I can't really get away right now, but maybe I can come see you later in the summer.

I'm really sorry; I promise I'll make it up to you later. I miss you, too--I can't believe how much I miss you when you've only been gone for a couple of weeks. But I am glad to hear that you're doing okay, and that Snape has been treating you well. 

There's a lot I want to tell you, too. I promise we'll have a long talk when we get together. In the meantime, please keep writing to me. I love you.

Oh, and by the way, I think trying out for the Quidditch team is a great idea. Say hi to Dylan for me.

Love,  
Blaise

*** 

Theodore stared at the letter, the expression on his face changing from elated to crestfallen. It wasn't just that he was disappointed Blaise wasn't coming, although he was. There was something off about the letter: it was brief almost to the point of being curt, and the casual tone seemed a little forced, somehow. And he knew that Blaise normally helped his father in the shop when he was at home, but he hadn't thought they were so busy that Blaise couldn't get away for one day...

"Is something wrong, Theo?" Lupin asked gently, a look of concern in his blue eyes.

"Uh, no, Professor," Theodore said hastily, folding up the letter and sliding it back in the envelope. "It's just that Blaise says he can't come; he has to help his father in the shop."

"Shop?" Lupin asked.

"That junk--er, secondhand store in Diagon Alley," Snape replied. "Zabini's father owns it." Then he frowned. "It seems odd, though, that he can't get away for just one afternoon..."

"Blaise says that things are busy in the shop right now," Theodore said quickly, not sure whether he was trying to convince himself or Snape. "But maybe he can get away later. He'll let me know." Despite his words, he felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Blaise didn't want to see him...no, he didn't really believe that; he took out the letter again and glanced at the words "I love you," to reassure himself. But maybe Blaise's parents didn't want him associating with the son of two Death Eaters...

"Would you like me to talk to his parents?" Lupin asked.

"No!" Theodore said quickly; if there was a problem, he suspected that would only make it worse. "No, it's okay, Professor--"

"Remus," Lupin reminded him with a smile.

"It's okay, Remus," Theodore said. "Really. I'm sure he's just busy. His dad works hard at his job; he runs the store alone, and he doesn't get to take time off unless Blaise is there to help."

"It's good of Blaise to help out his father," Lupin said, still smiling. "He's a very responsible boy. Very well; tell him the invitation is still open, whenever he has some free time. Perhaps the next time Severus or I need to run errands in London, we could stop by the shop to say hello."

"That's not really necessary," Theodore said nervously. He didn't really want to confront Blaise's father; what if he threw them out of the shop, or simply said outright that he didn't want his son hanging out with a Death Eater? As long as he didn't know for sure, he could keep pretending that everything was all right, that Blaise was just busy, and he would stop by later in the summer as he said in his letter. Snape, Lupin, and Dylan all gave him looks of mingled concern and suspicion, and he added, not very convincingly, "I mean, we don't need to make a special trip just for that."

"I need to consult with the lawyer on the progress of our petitions," Snape said, "and I should pick up some more aconite to replenish what we used in the potion this week. So I do need to go to London in the next week or two, anyway." His voice was casual, but his black eyes were staring at Theodore intently. "We could make an outing of it, the four of us. Perhaps stop by the Sakura for lunch?"

"That would be nice," Lupin said cheerfully. "And Fortescue's for dessert."

"Can we stop by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" Dylan asked.

"If you must," Snape groaned reluctantly.

Lupin laughed. "We can stop by Mr. Zabini's shop along the way, and see if he can let Blaise off for an hour or two to have lunch with us."

"Uh...okay," Theodore said weakly, seeing no way he could reasonably object, not without voicing fears that he would rather not speak aloud right now. "Is it all right if I go for a walk?" he asked, wanting to be alone for a little while.

"Of course," Lupin said. "Just make sure you're back in time for lunch."

"Yes, sir."

"Want some company?" Dylan offered.

"No," Theodore said curtly, and left the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

Lupin's cheerful smile disappeared and a wrinkle furrowed his forehead as he frowned. Theodore had finally been opening up to them, finally beginning to heal from the damage his parents had inflicted on him over the years. His smiles had grown more frequent of late, and Lupin thought that even his tears--such as the ones he had shed over Rafe in the Nott mansion--were a good sign, because it meant that he trusted them enough to share his secrets, felt secure enough to be vulnerable in front of them. So he was troubled to see Theodore reverting back to the sullen, gloomy boy he had been in school; he hoped that it was only a temporary setback.

Snape was concerned as well, although he showed it in a different way. He crossed his arms and stared at Dylan sternly. "Is there some trouble between Mr. Zabini and Mr. Nott that I should know about, Mr. Rosier? Or trouble with the Zabini family?"

"Not that I know of, sir," Dylan replied honestly. He wondered uneasily if his guardians knew that Theo and Blaise were more than friends, and whether he should mention it to them. Could Blaise and Theo have had a fight? No, that didn't make sense; Theo clearly hadn't expected any trouble until he read the letter, and besides, Blaise had been very protective and solicitous of Theo after the battle, right up until school ended. Could Blaise's family not want him to visit them, perhaps because of their connection with the Death Eaters, or maybe because Lupin was a werewolf? Of course this was all pure speculation...

While Dylan was debating whether or not to voice his theories, Snape said, "Very well, then, Rosier. Don't you have something you should be doing right now?" His tone of voice made it clear that even if he didn't, Dylan had better find something to do.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said quickly. "I need to...ah...work in the garden."

Lupin smiled a little, although his eyes still looked worried, as Dylan darted out of the cottage. "Perceptive boy; picks up on hints readily."

"Of course," Snape said, so proudly that Lupin chuckled. "He's not one of your thickheaded Gryffindors." Then, in a more serious voice, Snape said, "There's something odd, about the letter, and Theodore's reaction to it. I have seen Blaise working in his father's shop, but Marius Zabini is fond of his children, and he doesn't strike me as a slave driver; I find it hard to believe that he wouldn't let his son take a day off. And Theodore's disappointment about a friend being unable to visit seems a little out of proportion, though I know he doesn't have many close friends..."

"A lover's spat?" Lupin suggested lightly.

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. "Nott and Zabini? Are you sure, Lupin?"

"Reasonably sure," Lupin replied calmly.

"Did they say something to you?" Snape asked, still looking puzzled and a little stunned.

"They didn't need to," Lupin said with a smile. "Honestly, Severus, I would expect a sly Slytherin like you to be more observant!" Snape glared at him. Lupin continued patiently, "Didn't you notice, at the Yule Ball, how Theodore paid more attention to Blaise than his own date? Or how Blaise looked a little wistful while he watched Theo dance with Millicent?"

"No, not really," Snape said, looking rather chagrined.

"Well, I suppose you were too busy arguing with Branwen and blasting apart rose bushes to notice," Lupin laughed.

"Hmm," Snape said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that would explain why Theodore took the risk of confiding in me when Blaise was in danger..." Then he said to Lupin in a deliberately haughty voice, "But this is all speculation, of course. You don't have proof of this so-called relationship, do you?"

"Do I need any?" Lupin asked, cocking his head to one side as he tried to figure out what Severus was getting at.

"It's against school regulations for the students to be having sex with each other, Lupin," Snape said bluntly. "Of course it's impossible to regulate teenage hormones--that's why we have separate dormitories for the boys and girls. Although it doesn't seem to have occurred to our dear founders to take into consideration same-sex relationships..."

"I would think the lack of privacy would put a damper on that," Lupin said with a grin. "Though you and I found ways to work around it..."

"The Slytherin dorms have only two people to a room," Snape interrupted, a faint smile crossing his lips. "And Zabini and Nott are roommates."

Lupin blinked in surprise. "Really? There are four or five to a room in Gryffindor."

Snape grinned. "It's probably because so many of the wizarding elite are sorted into Slytherin, and the parents don't like the idea of their precious little brats being 'herded like cattle' or 'housed in barracks'--or at least, that's the impression I got from talking to some of the older teachers and the parents. There are too many students to give them all single rooms, so apparently they compromised on doubles. Although Lucius did insist that I give Draco a room of his own, and I wasn't in a position to argue. I suppose I should make him take a roommate now, but he only has one more year left, and it seemed like adding insult to injury on top of his father's death..."

"Softie," Lupin said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape huffed, but he couldn't quite hold back his smile. "Anyway, getting back to Nott and Zabini...as their Head of House, I would be obligated to separate them if there were evidence that they were having a...shall we say...personal relationship." He raised an eyebrow and gave Lupin an expectant look.

"No, there is no evidence, only my personal speculation based on a few glances at the Yule Ball," Lupin replied smoothly. "Upon further thought, it might only be my overactive Gryffindor imagination."

"Good," Snape said. "Then there's no need for me to take any action. However, hypothetically speaking...could this imaginary relationship be the cause of Mr. Nott's distress?"

Lupin thought it over. "I don't think so. They seemed very close, right up until school let out. I didn't sense any trouble between them." He frowned again. "If Blaise's parents found out about the boys'...ah...friendship, would they be the type to object?"

It was Snape's turn to frown. "I don't know them well, but probably, at least if they thought it would deter Blaise from getting married one day. He is the son and heir of the family, after all. As poor as they are, the Zabinis still cling to their pureblood pride; in fact, they're downright touchy about it sometimes, perhaps because that pride is all they have left. Or maybe they just don't want Blaise associating with two sons of Death Eaters. Then again, it could be you and I that they object to--our scandalous relationship, or simply the fact that you are a werewolf and I a former Death Eater."

Lupin smiled sadly. "Well, I hope it's just you and I; then perhaps they wouldn't object to Theodore visiting Blaise at his home, even if they don't want Blaise to come here. What should we do, Severus? Should we talk to Blaise's parents?"

"No, I don't think so," Snape replied slowly as he considered the question. "At least, not yet. It could be nothing; perhaps Marius really does need his son's help at the shop. Let me see if I can pick up any rumors first. If that fails, we can stop by the shop as you suggested, and try to gauge his reaction. I don't think he'll be outright rude to me, since I'm his son's Head of House, and Blaise's future depends in part on the grades I give him, but I'm sure I'll be able to pick up on any hostility he might have towards myself or Theodore."

"That sounds reasonable," Lupin conceded, "but I don't like seeing Theodore so unhappy."

Snape shrugged. "Nor do I, but at worst they'll only be separated for a few months."

Despite his worries, Lupin grinned at his lover. "Don't you remember what it's like to be a teenager, Sev? A few months, even a few weeks, can seem like forever..."

Snape said solemnly, "Yes, I remember." The short time that their romance had lasted had passed by in a flash, while the days after they had parted had seemed to pass at a torturous crawl. He pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him. "I love you, Remus."

"I love you, too, Severus," Lupin said tenderly, then glanced around. "I'm not sure how long the boys will be gone; perhaps we should continue this in private..." He took Severus by the hand, and his lover willingly followed him to the bedroom.

*** 

Theodore returned in time to help Lupin and Dylan fix lunch. He seemed calmer, though still a little depressed. Lupin patted him kindly on the shoulder and said, "I'm sorry Blaise can't come to see you. But hopefully he'll be able to find some time to visit later, and of course you'll see each other when school starts again."

"That's true," Theodore said, cheering up a little. Three months was a long time, but not forever. Looking forward to going back to school was nothing new; he had always hated going home for the holidays, and spent most of his summers counting the days until he could return to Hogwarts, where he was safe from his father's abuse. At least here with Lupin and Snape, nobody would be hexing him. 

He smiled at Lupin, who smiled back, looking relieved. He firmly squelched the little voice in his head that asked, _What if his family tries to make him choose between them and you?_ He slipped his hand into his pocket for a moment, touching Blaise's letter, remembering the words "I love you". Besides, he didn't even know if there was really a problem with Blaise's family; maybe he was getting all worked up over nothing.

After lunch, the boys studied quietly at the kitchen table, while in the living room, Snape read a Potions text, jotting down notes for possible lessons for the coming school year, and Lupin read a Japanese comic book, chuckling quietly to himself every now and then.

Eventually Dylan and Theo looked up to see what he was laughing at. Theodore said, "I didn't know you could read...what is that, anyway? Japanese?"

Lupin smiled. "Yes, it is. I can also speak and read French and German; I've mostly worked as a translator when I wasn't teaching at Hogwarts."

"I didn't know that," Dylan said.

"Severus is fluent in Japanese as well," Lupin said pleasantly.

"Really, Professor?" Dylan asked Snape. "Oh, I remember...the Daily Prophet said you worked with a Japanese wizard to invent the Wolfsbane Potion."

Snape flushed and muttered, "Yes, well, I thought it best to learn the language in order to prevent any possible errors of communication, particularly when working on such a complex potion...now if you don't mind, I'm a little busy right now." He ducked his head, letting his black hair fall in front of his face like a curtain, and pretended to be engrossed in his book.

Lupin laughed and joined the boys in the kitchen. They looked at his book curiously. "Is it hard to learn?" Theodore asked.

"It's more difficult than learning, say, French or Spanish, because the language isn't Latin-based, but it's certainly not beyond your capabilities. Would you like me to teach you a little?"

"Sure," Theo said, looking interested.

"Professor Chizuru taught us a few words and phrases in her afterschool club," Dylan added. "And we did some calligraphy."

"The kanji characters are beautiful, but very complex. We should start with the basics, the simpler hiragana and katakana alphabets..."

Lupin worked with them for most of the afternoon on the Japanese lessons, and the boys seemed to enjoy it. Snape looked up from his book and smiled at the sight of the three of them absorbed in their work; he was pleased that Lupin had found a way to distract Theodore from his worries. Lupin happened to glance up and noticed Snape watching them. He smiled and winked at Snape who, for once instead of getting flustered, simply winked back at him and returned to his book.

That night they had dinner early, so Lupin would have a chance to eat before his transformation. "Though I suppose I could always give you a bone to gnaw on," Snape said sardonically, recalling Lupin's behavior during the full moon last summer when they were staying at Black's house. Lupin just chuckled and ate his stew, which Snape had cooked partly because even with the improved Wolfsbane Potion, Lupin was always a little tired this close to the full moon, but also to prove to Lupin that he could cook if he wanted to. It had turned out pretty well, if he did say so himself, Snape thought. Not quite as good as Molly Weasley's cooking, perhaps, but it was certainly edible.

"Not bad, Severus," Lupin said after his first bite. "Pretty good, in fact. I wish I could say the same for the potion." He grimaced at the smoking goblet, then took a deep breath and downed it in one quick gulp. 

"Does it taste as bad as it smells?" Dylan asked.

"Worse," Lupin said, shuddering.

"Kamiyama and I have tried everything we could think of, but there's just no way to alter the taste without making it less effective," Snape said apologetically.

"It's all right, Severus," Lupin assured him. "It's a small price to pay to keep my sanity during the full moon." He took a sip of tea to wash the taste out of his mouth. 

"Did you really invent it for Prof...for Remus, like the Daily Prophet said?" Dylan asked Snape.

Snape scowled at his favorite student ferociously; although Theodore went a little pale, Dylan looked unfazed. Snape sighed inwardly; Lupin was a bad influence...it was hard to keep up a menacing image when you had an affectionate werewolf constantly snuggling up to you and calling you a "softie". "You'll rot your mind reading that trash, Rosier," he snapped.

"You didn't answer the question, Severus," Lupin cheerfully pointed out.

Snape turned his scowl on his lover; he had been hoping that the boys wouldn't notice that he had evaded the question. "Fine," he said grumpily, giving in with ill grace. "Of course I invented it for Lupin. Do you really think it was sheer coincidence that I was working on a potion to help werewolves when my former lover was one?"

"No need to be so grouchy, Severus," Lupin chided him gently.

Snape gave him one last glare, then turned his attention back to his food, muttering under his breath about nosy reporters, meddling old wizards, and annoying werewolves. Lupin just smiled at him fondly.

The sun was beginning to set as they cleaned up the last of the dinner dishes. "Perhaps I should retire to my room," Lupin said; he wasn't sure how the boys would react to his transformation. "The moon will be coming out soon."

"Does...does the transformation hurt?" Theodore asked hesitantly.

"A little," Lupin said, "but the pain is over quickly. The improvements that Severus and Professor Kamiyama made to the potion a few years ago have made the transformation process much easier. You remember how ill I used to get near the full moon during your third year, Theo."  "Yes, I remember," he said solemnly. "You look much better now."

"Thanks to Severus," Lupin said, smiling at his lover. 

"It's mostly thanks to Kamiyama," Snape said, looking a little embarrassed. "He was the one who came up with idea of adding the duckweed to the potion."

"Do you need to be alone when you transform?" Dylan asked. "I mean, you're not dangerous during the full moon when you take the potion, right?"

"No, I don't need to be alone," Lupin replied. "And in fact, Severus usually keeps me company during the full moon when he can. It's just that the transformation can be a rather...disturbing...sight if you're not used to it, and I didn't want to alarm you..."

Dylan and Theodore exchanged a look. "You don't need to hide away for our sake, Remus," Dylan said. "This is your home, after all."

"We saw you as a wolf on the battlefield," Theodore said. "You saved my life. I'm not afraid to watch you change."

Lupin felt his eyes fill with tears as he smiled at his foster sons. The wolf inside Lupin felt very content and just a little smug as it regarded its mate and cubs. _Mine,_ it growled happily. _My pack._ Lupin dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve, then said, "Let us go and await the moonrise, then."

They all sat together quietly in the living room, not saying much, just sharing each other's company and waiting for the moon to rise. Finally, silvery moonlight spilled through the window, and Lupin rose from his seat and crouched down on the floor. His limbs shortened, his fingers curling into claws; his face lengthened into a snout; and his body seemed to blur as it changed, long hair and smooth skin and clothing melting into silver-speckled brown fur. Then a large wolf lay on the floor; it got to its feet and gave itself a shake.

Despite their words, Dylan and Theo found the transformation and the sight of the huge wolf in front of them a little unsettling. As if sensing their nervousness, the wolf whined, staring at them with anxious blue eyes.

Those blue eyes looked just like Lupin's, and there was human intelligence behind them. "R...Remus?" Dylan asked, cautiously extending a hand towards the wolf.

The wolf approached, sniffed at his hand, then licked it affectionately, behaving more like a pet dog than a werewolf. It ducked its head under Dylan's hand, as if asking to be petted. Dylan gingerly stroked the top of the wolf's head; its jaw dropped in what appeared to be a lupine grin, so Dylan continued petting it, and scratched behind its ears. The wolf barked happily and wagged its tail enthusiastically, and Dylan laughed. The wolf took that as permission to jump up and cover Dylan's face with enthusiastic swipes of its tongue. 

Dylan laughed again, and Snape said with mock-sternness, "That's hardly appropriate and professional behavior for a teacher, Lupin." The wolf went over to Snape and licked his face. "Don't drool on me, Lupin!" The wolf barked out a laugh, not one bit fooled by Snape's sour tone of voice, and licked his face again. Theodore was looking a little left out, so the wolf bounded over to him and jumped up, bracing its front paws against his chest. 

Theodore let out a little yelp of surprise, taken off-guard as an affectionate--and very large--wolf jumped on him and swiped its tongue across his face. In his enthusiasm, Lupin forgot his strength, knocking Theodore off-balance, and tumbling them both off the couch and onto the floor. Theodore yelped again as a cold and wet nose touched his face, as the wolf sniffed at him and whined anxiously, a concerned look in its blue eyes. 

"I'm all right, Professor," Theodore reassured the wolf, then suddenly started laughing at the thought of addressing a wolf as "Professor". The whole situation suddenly seemed comical and just a tad surreal. The wolf barked, sounding relieved, and began covering Theodore's face with wolfish kisses. "Professor...Remus...I'm okay, really!" Theodore laughed, then spluttered as the wolf swiped its tongue across his face again. "Argh! That's very wet, you know!" 

"Wolves drool, Nott," Snape said in a conversational tone. "That's what they do. Not to mention shed fur on your good robes..."

The wolf ignored him and continued licking its cub's face. Theodore tried to push the wolf away, but it seemed to be a playful and only halfhearted attempt, so the wolf barked, wagged its tail, then continued with what it was doing. Dylan knelt down on the floor beside them, so the wolf assumed that he wanted to join in on the fun, and jumped on him as well.

Snape smiled indulgently from his seat on the couch as he watched the boys wrestle with the wolf playfully as if it were nothing more than an overgrown puppy. Which it was really; Snape noticed that Lupin, even when he was jumping on the boys and pinning them to the ground, was gentle and very careful not scratch them even slightly with his claws. It was odd; he had felt jealous last summer, when Potter and Granger and the other children had been petting and feeding the wolf, but he didn't mind watching Lupin play with Dylan and Theodore. 

In fact, he was happy to see the boys acting so carefree and childlike after all they had gone through. Theodore especially; while Dylan had been forced to live in exile and put up with his grandmother's and uncles' insults, at least he had been raised by a loving family, even if Ariane had been misguided in her attempt to raise Dylan as a future Death Eater. But Theodore had grown up in a family that was even worse than Snape's own, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had seen the boy laugh, and still have a few leftover. He was happy for Lupin's sake, too; he knew that his lover had been a little afraid of transforming in front of the boys, but clearly there had been nothing to worry about.

After a good, long romp, the wolf finally wore the boys out. "I give up," Dylan laughed, too tired to fend off the wolf's affectionate "attacks". He and Theodore lay sprawled out on the floor, looking exhausted but happy. Lupin licked both their faces on last time, then jumped up on the couch and flung himself down across Snape's lap. Snape obligingly scratched behind the wolf's ears, and it growled contentedly. 

The boys marveled at the sight of Snape smiling down tenderly at the wolf as he scratched behind its ears and stroked its fur. It was getting late, but all four of them felt so content simply to be in each other's presence that they were loathe to leave and break the mood. 

Snape knew he should send the boys to bed, but he yawned and leaned back against the couch, thinking, _Just a few minutes more..._ But by the time those few minutes were up, Snape had fallen asleep, with Lupin snoring contentedly in his lap, and the boys were fast asleep on the living room floor.

*** 

"...Theo? Theo, wake up."

"Lemme sleep a little longer," Theodore mumbled, trying to ignore the voice and the hand trying to gently shake him awake. He rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, then frowned, wondering why the bed was so uncomfortable. Then he realized that he was not lying in his bed, but on the living room floor. He opened his eyes to see Dylan staring down at him.

"Guess we fell asleep on the floor last night," Dylan said softly.

Theodore sat up, rubbing his back. He felt a little stiff, but well-rested; he smiled, remembering how he and Dylan had been playing with the wolf--with Lupin--last night. Although it was difficult to think of the wolf as his teacher and foster father when he had been behaving more like a pet dog. "Why are we whispering?" he asked, keeping his voice as low as Dylan's.

In response, Dylan pointed at the couch. Snape was slumped back against the couch; Lupin was still lying across the couch with his head resting in Snape's lap, only he was human once again, not a wolf. Both men were sound asleep, with very peaceful and contented looks on their faces. The two boys were happy to see their guardians looking so content, but at the same time they felt a little uncomfortable at witnessing such an intimate moment. The sleeping Snape in particular looked drastically different from his waking self; without his usual scowl, the lines on his face had eased and become less visible, and that, along with the faint smile on his lips, made him look about ten years younger.

"Maybe we could get cleaned up and start breakfast," Dylan whispered, and Theo nodded in agreement. Last night had been fun, but their robes were covered with wolf fur--as Snape had sarcastically predicted they would be, and they both felt a desire to wash their faces after having been slobbered on liberally by an affectionate wolf, even though said slobber had dried up overnight.

A little while later, Lupin woke up to the smell and sound of sizzling bacon. He sniffed the air appreciatively and also caught the rich scent of freshly-brewed coffee. He opened his eyes and found his head pillowed on Severus's lap. He sighed and stretched, with the languid grace of a cat waking up from a nap, then impulsively pressed his lips against his lover's thigh in a gentle kiss. 

Snape stirred, murmured an unintelligible but affectionate endearment, and stroked Lupin's hair. Lupin sighed with pleasure, and felt a momentary twinge of regret that they weren't alone and able to follow through on that caress. Then he looked up and saw his two foster sons, busy cooking breakfast in the kitchen, and that twinge instantly vanished. Perhaps their lovemaking would have be a little less spontaneous from now on, but that was a small price to pay for having a family.

Lupin kissed Severus on the cheek and said, "Wake up, sleepyhead. The boys have fixed breakfast for us."

Snape's eyes suddenly flew open as he went from half-asleep to fully awake in an instant. He abruptly sat upright and his head jerked around to look towards the kitchen. Then he winced and rubbed his neck as his body protested that sudden movement. "We're too old to be sleeping on the couch, Lupin," he grumbled.

The boys pretended not to hear and very deliberately kept their eyes fixed on the stove, not looking up, although Dylan called out cheerfully, "Good morning, Professors; breakfast is almost ready."

"Thank you, Dylan," Lupin called out in a bright, chirpy tone that caused Snape to glare at him. "We'll be there in a minute, just let us wash up."

So they all sat down at the kitchen table together, Lupin with that smug little smile on his face that he wore so often these days, and Snape looking a little flustered. They ate in silence for a few minutes, then Dylan said to Lupin, "Um...sir?"

"Yes, Dylan?"

"About last night," he said hesitantly. "I know that the Wolfsbane Potion keeps you safe, but it seems like...um...well...that the wolf's...ah...instincts...still become dominant during the full moon..."

"What Mr. Rosier is so tactfully trying to say is that you were acting like an oversized pet dog last night, Lupin," Snape said sourly.

Lupin grinned at him. "If you're asking whether I remain myself during the full moon or if I am taken over by the wolf, the answer is 'both': it is impossible to completely separate the two of us. The wolf does, as you so astutely put it, become more dominant as the full moon approaches. My emotions run higher when the moon waxes; I am quicker to anger and lose my temper, and quicker to--" He paused and gave Severus a sly smile. "--give in to passion, shall we say?" The Potions Master blushed, and so did the boys, which Lupin found vastly amusing.

"The Wolfsbane Potion doesn't prevent that?" Theodore asked, his face still red.

"No," Lupin replied, his expression becoming serious now. "It keeps me sane during the full moon, but it does not completely suppress the wolf. Severus and I made a startling discovery that first year I taught at Hogwarts, Theo. I had been fighting the wolf for nearly all of my life, not wanting to give in to it in even the slightest way, believing that if I did, I would lose my humanity. I was afraid that if I lost my temper, I would lose control of myself, and give in to the violence of the beast."

Theodore flushed again, with a different kind of embarrassment, as he remembered how Draco had sneered at and insulted Lupin, particularly during their third year, and how he himself had feigned similar disdain, or at best disinterest, in his role as Draco's crony. "Is that why you never got mad when Draco...when the Slytherins insulted you?" he asked in a small voice. "And when our parents did?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes. I've known since I was a child that people would scorn me, revile me, insult me, if they learned that I was a werewolf. I long ago became inured to such things. I won't say that I liked it, but I learned to endure it without losing my temper." He smiled kindly at his foster son and added, "I don't blame you or Draco or the other Slytherins. Draco and a few of the others were only echoing what their parents had taught them, and the rest of you were just trying to survive." 

Theodore still looked ashamed of himself, and Lupin said quietly, with a sidelong glance towards Severus, "Believe me, there are many times that I regret having kept silent when I should have spoken out against something. So don't be too hard on yourself. Getting back to what I was saying, I had always been taught that I had to fight the beast within me. But when Severus and I...ah...renewed our relationship, I discovered that giving in to the wolf, at least to a certain extent, eased the pain and nausea that normally accompanied my transformations. Fighting the wolf, it turns out, was making me ill. For better or worse, the wolf and the man are inextricably entwined within me. Rather than trying to suppress the beast within, we found that it was better to try and strike a balance between the two. Not all of the wolf's instincts are bad ones: while it is a dangerous predator, it is also loyal and nurturing towards its mate, cubs, and pack. And fiercely protective as well--the wolf took over on the battlefield, causing me to transform spontaneously when it saw you were in danger, Theo. A good thing, too, since I had lost my wand when Macnair attacked me; come to think of it, perhaps that's why I changed at that particular moment--since the man could not defend you, the wolf would. In that we are united, the wolf and I; it shares my love for you and Dylan and Severus." 

He smiled as the trio blushed again. "Professor Kamiyama, the co-creator of the Wolfsbane Potion, believes that this nurturing part of the wolf helps to keep its more violent tendencies under control. So I no longer try to fight the wolf when it wants to do this--" He leaned over and nuzzled Snape's neck.

"Cut that out, Lupin!"

Lupin grinned, but obeyed. "--or when it wants to romp and play, or be scratched behind the ears," he continued.

"Or when it wants to drool all over everyone," Snape muttered.

"I used to be frightened and ashamed of that part of me," Lupin said solemnly, "but no longer. It was Severus who taught me to embrace the wolf within me, and now I am whole and at peace with myself." He smiled tenderly at his lover, who immediately turned red. Lupin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing; who would ever have thought that a cynical Slytherin and hardened Death Eater could blush so easily?

Dylan frowned thoughtfully. "That sounds a lot like what Harry Potter told the Daily Prophet--that he had to embrace both his Gryffindor and Slytherin qualities in order to defeat V-Voldemort." He stumbled a little over the name, but forced himself to say it out loud, and Lupin smiled at him approvingly.

"Yes, Dylan, that's quite perceptive of you," Lupin said. "It is very similar. Professor Blackmore always said that the Gryffindors tended to see things as extremes--good or bad, black or white. But the world is filled with shades of gray, and leaning too far towards either extreme can be dangerous."

"The Aurors as a case in point," Snape said, his face having returned to its usual sallow paleness. "They were supposedly fighting on the side of 'good,' but some of them become self-righteous and overzealous. You saw what they did to Theodore's house, and they did far worse than that in the first war--killed and imprisoned suspected Death Eaters without a trial." He and Lupin exchanged a look, both of them thinking of how Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. "They killed without remorse; indeed, some of them took great pleasure in their work, until there was little difference between themselves and the Death Eaters they hunted."

"Fortunately," Lupin said, "we have a more compassionate and sensible Minister of Magic in charge of things this time around. Arthur has taken great pains to make sure that no one was condemned without a trial, and he assures me that he is overseeing the current investigation even more closely since learning of the damage to Nott Manor."

The boys fell silent as they ate; they had a great deal to digest, mentally. Lupin sensed this, and concentrated on his own food, eating with great relish; the wolf was always hungry after a transformation. But after breakfast, when Lupin was helping them wash the dishes, he said softly, "I am very glad that the two of you were able to accept the wolf. It means a great deal to me."

The boys smiled at him. "Of course, Professor...I mean, Remus," Dylan said. "Like Theo said, we all saw you fight to protect us during the battle, as both man and wolf. You've looked after all of us Slytherins this past year. Any fool can see that you're no monster."

Theodore thought of his father and the other Death Eaters. "Not all monsters are beasts," he said slowly. "Some are human."

Lupin and Dylan nodded gravely, then suddenly Lupin gave both of his foster sons a quick hug. Dylan, who was used to be doted on by a loving family, accepted it with equanimity; Theodore, who was not used to receiving gestures of affection from anyone but Blaise, looked startled but pleased, and they finished the dishes together in a companionable silence.

*** 

Draco felt a little uncomfortable sitting in the Pierces' living room as Aileen Pierce poured tea for everyone and set out a platter of sandwiches cut into dainty little triangles, and another filled with sugar cookies still warm from the oven. It was not that either Aileen or Damien were being rude to Draco and his mother; far from it. Aileen had red hair and a cheerful disposition like her son, and was surprisingly kind and good-natured for a Slytherin: she listened sympathetically to Narcissa's troubles, and fussed over Draco in a motherly fashion, telling him that he looked a little pale and thin and wouldn't he like another sandwich?

Aileen Pierce was the only one of Narcissa's friends who was still willing to associate with her; all the others (except for Delia Avery, who didn't really count since she was also a disgraced former Death Eater) wanted nothing to do with her, as if afraid that the taint of her disgrace might rub off on them. Or perhaps it was simply that since the Malfoys had lost their power and influence, Narcissa was now of no use to them. Either way, Damien's mother had proved to be Narcissa's one true friend.

As for Damien, although he no longer treated Draco with the deference that he used to, he didn't seem to hold a grudge against Draco for forcing him to come along to the secret Death Eater meeting that had turned into in a pitched battle (or "The Final Battle," as the Daily Prophet had dramatically dubbed it), which was pretty generous considering that Draco's father had threatened to kill him in order to keep Dylan in line. In fact, for the most part, Damien was treating him in a casually friendly manner, almost as if he were part of Pierce's regular crowd--Rosier, Zabini, and Nott. 

Draco was surprised to feel a slight pang of envy for the friendship the four boys shared; he had seen the way they had risked their lives to protect each other during the battle, and he couldn't imagine any of his "friends" doing the same for him. In fact, his friends were probably as nonexistent as Narcissa's. Most of his hangers-on abandoned him after the battle; Crabbe and Goyle had still followed him around the way they always had, but that was probably more out of habit than anything else. And when Draco had tried to contact them after school let out, their mothers had made it perfectly clear that they didn't want their sons hanging around Draco; Goyle had given him an apologetic smile as his mother slammed the door in Draco's face.

What made Draco so uncomfortable was the fact that he was all too aware that he had ignored Damien for most of the past five years, dismissing him as being unimportant and beneath his notice. Yet here Damien was, chatting with him over tea while all the others who had curried his favor before no longer gave him the time of day. He suspected his mother felt the same guilt over having largely ignored Aileen after graduating from Hogwarts. She had not actively snubbed her childhood friend, but they moved in different social circles and Narcissa had not made the effort to keep in touch beyond exchanging Christmas gifts and chatting at school functions. 

After Aileen had issued her first invitation to tea, Narcissa had said remorsefully, "I had almost forgotten the way Aileen used to look after me as a first-year. I had never really been away from my parents before, and I was so homesick. She let me sleep in her bed that first week at school, holding me while I cried myself to sleep. She kept the older girls from teasing me, and tried to cheer me up by taking me to watch the Quidditch team practice in the afternoons and by showing me how to sneak into the kitchen and cadge treats from the house-elves. She was a good friend to me, but I was not such a good friend to her."

And now Aileen was comforting Narcissa once again. "The Ministry is threatening to levy fines against the Death Eater estates," Draco's mother said in a distraught voice. "Very heavy fines. They could even take the whole estate--"

"I don't think that will happen, dear," Aileen said in a soothing voice, patting Narcissa's hand. "They didn't take the Black estate even when everyone believed that Sirius was a mass murderer. They were only able to confiscate the Rosier estate because all the Rosiers were dead except for Evan's baby. There may be fines, but you can afford to pay those; the Malfoy bank accounts are deep." Aileen smiled slyly; it seemed she was indeed a Slytherin after all, despite her good nature. "And I'm sure Lucius must have stashed some gold away somewhere, off the records, in case of emergencies." Narcissa opened her mouth, and Aileen hastily said, "Never mind; don't tell me. That way if I'm questioned, I can honestly say I know nothing about it. But in any case, you should hire a lawyer if you haven't already."

"I have a lawyer," Narcissa said, calming down a little. "Sirius hired one for me." She was still amazed by that, and it showed in her face.

"Fancy that," Aileen said in bemusement, taking a sip of tea. "I thought he would be a good-for-nothing, arrogant little git all his life. I remember the way he acted so superior and looked down on us Slytherins, as if the Blacks hadn't all been Slytherins until he came along."

"He seems to have grown up quite a bit," Narcissa admitted.

Aileen giggled, her pretty face looking young and girlish. "So I've heard! Is it true he's engaged to Professor Blackmore?"

Narcissa giggled as well, and the two of them looked like the schoolgirls they had been over twenty years ago. "Yes, it's true! She's moved into his house, and they're to be wed in August; I'm even invited to the wedding! I must admit, Sirius has been very good to us, but I can't imagine what she sees in him--"

Aileen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "He's still handsome, despite the time he spent in Azkaban, even if he's not a fresh-faced boy anymore." In a way, the lines on his face and the shadows in his eyes gave him a gravity and maturity he had lacked as a youth, even if he was no longer quite so beautiful as he had once been. "And if he's finally lost the arrogance...perhaps I can see it happening, just barely. They both fought for Dumbledore, and they were both Aurors for a short period of time during the first war. And she has remained young while he has grown up; they are--physically, at least--about the same age. But still, it's difficult to imagine her marrying a former student that she once gave detention to, and even harder to imagine a student having enough courage to ask her to marry him." She grinned. "Well, perhaps I could have believed it of Evan Rosier..."

Narcissa laughed. "I still remember that Yule Ball where he asked her to dance!"

Damien shook his head as he picked up a sandwich, and one of the many cats in the Pierce household started rubbing against his leg and purring hopefully. Damien broke off a small piece and fed it to the cat, then stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and ate it one bite. "She is very beautiful," Damien said, turning to Draco, "but after seeing her in a rage over that stunt you guys pulled with Bane--" Draco flushed, remembered the combined hex that had accidentally turned Blackmore's pet raven into a bunny. "--I'd never have the courage to ask her to dance, let alone marry me." Then he grinned cheerfully and said, "But a teacher-student romance doesn't sound all that bad! It's too bad Professor Chizuru went back to Japan; do you think she would have married me if I had asked her?"

Draco laughed, and Aileen glared at her son and snapped, "Damien Pierce!"

"What?" Damien asked innocently. "Is there something wrong with admiring a beautiful older woman? She would have made a great daughter-in-law, Mum. Not only is she an expert in healing magic, she can weave feathers into silk!"

Aileen opened her mouth to scold her son, but Narcissa was gratified to see Draco laugh, and said indulgently, "Oh, let him be, Aileen. Boys will be boys, after all." Then she smiled mischievously. "I'm sorry to have to break your heart, Damien; Sirius tells me that the crow-man has already proposed marriage to your ladylove."

"What?!" Damien exclaimed. "Master Karasu and Professor Chizuru?!"

"Apparently so," Narcissa said, her eyes dancing with merriment, and Draco was relieved to see it, since she had been so worried and unhappy of late. "Though it seems that their families might raise some objections, and they'll have to win them over."

"Huh," Damien said, shaking his head in shock. "I'm surprised that our teachers have any time to plan lessons or grade our homework--look at how many of them have been carrying on secret romances! Lupin and Snape, Professor Blackmore, and now Chizuru and Karasu...man, the gossip in the teacher's lounge must be red-hot! Next thing you know, McGonagall will be marrying the Headmaster! Or maybe Flitwick? How about Hagrid...?"

Draco shuddered. "Please, Pierce, I do not want that image in my head!"

"Damien!" Aileen said, trying to sound stern, but even she couldn't help but laugh at her son's antics. She turned back to Narcissa, and they began talking about more serious things: what Narcissa's lawyer was doing, how much the proposed fines might be, and how long all this might drag out in court. Damien quickly grew bored and started talking about Quidditch, and Draco willingly went along with that. He knew that he should be concerned about their finances, but right now he didn't want to contemplate the thought of the Ministry taking all their money and leaving them as poor as the Weasleys. He remembered all the times he had taunted Ron Weasley and his brothers about their secondhand robes, and felt a little ill at the thought of their positions being reversed.

"...need a new Chaser and Keeper next term," Damien was saying.

Draco quickly shoved thoughts of himself dressed in patched secondhand robes out of his head; no sense worrying about something that hadn't happened yet. That lawyer seemed sharp; he would probably make sure that the Ministry left them a decent amount to live on. Probably. "Uh, yeah," Draco said. "Got anyone in mind?"

"Theo's pretty good on a broom," Damien replied. "He could play either position. I think he'd like to try out for the team...so long as you don't boss him around the way you used to."

"Boss him around?" Draco echoed indignantly.

"You did, you know," Damien said, matter-of-factly. "You bossed everyone in Slytherin around." Draco flushed again. Damien glanced over at his mother and Narcissa, who were still wrapped up in their conversation, and lowered his voice a little. "That's the way things have always worked in Slytherin--people cater to whoever's in power--so I don't hold it against you, really. But the problem with that is, when you lose your power, you lose all your 'friends'." 

Draco nodded, still flushing; certainly his friends, along with his mother's, had disappeared quickly enough. Cheerful Damien, the class clown who was always ready with a joke or snappy comeback, who never seemed to think about anything but Quidditch and girls (not necessarily in that order), was staring at Draco with a surprisingly serious look on his face. "You fought on our side, in the end, so I figure you're okay. But if you want friends--real friends--you're going to have to learn how to treat people nicely."

"I'm not sure that I know how," Draco confessed.

Damien gave a little snort of laughter and rolled his eyes. "Well, that's obvious!" he said in a voice, that was slightly sarcastic, but also amused. Aileen glanced up and gave her son a suspicious look; Damien smiled back at her, a look of angelic innocence on his face, which only served to make her more suspicious. Draco tried to imitate Damien's expression, without much success, but it made Narcissa laugh, which made Aileen smile, and the two women resumed their conversation. 

"It's not that hard," Damien told Draco. "Just treat people how you would like to be treated." Draco stared back at him blankly; the way he liked to be treated--or at least, the way he was accustomed to being treated--was to have everyone defer to him the way they had to his father. Damien seemed to understand that; he sighed and said, "Okay, scratch that. Just...don't talk to people in such a high-handed way, Malfoy. If you want someone to do something for you, don't order them about; try asking them nicely for a change."  "What if they say 'no'?" Draco asked.

Damien shrugged. "Then you just have to live with it. That's how things work when you're dealing with people who are equals, not servants or lackeys. But most times, friends don't mind doing things for each other. Which means that you don't just expect people to do favors for you; you have to do nice things for them sometimes, too." 

The whole concept was completely alien to Draco. "You mean like, 'you scratch my back; I'll scratch yours'?"

Damien shook his head in frustration. "No! I'm not talking about a couple of Ministry officials exchanging political favors. With a friend, you want to help them out, just because you like them, not because you expect something in return. Like the way Dylan helps me and Blaise and Theo with our homework. Like the way Parvati and Lavender made over Pansy and Millicent for the Yule Ball." Damien went a little pale, then added, "Like the way I was scared shitless of the Death Eaters the night of the final battle, but I couldn't let the Dementors hurt Dylan, because he's my best friend. So I went and acted like a stupid, noble Gryffindor and jumped into the battle instead of running for cover." He laughed, albeit a bit nervously. "The way Blaise and Serafina and Theo tried to protect each other. And Crabbe and Goyle--"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Draco interrupted. The memory of that night was still painful. He would never forget the way his father had grabbed him and used him as a shield as Moody hurled the Killing Curse his way; he would never forget the sight of his father's dead body, with that serpent-shaped dagger hilt sticking out of his back. 

But there were a few other memories, that mitigated the pain slightly: his mother, who had loved him enough to defy both the Death Eaters and her husband for his sake; Snape, who had helped to save his life, even though Draco had attacked him and called him a traitor; Lupin in his wolf form, whining anxiously and trying to comfort Draco by licking his face, like a tame pet dog instead of a werewolf; Serafina Avery, who had always treated Draco with indifference or contempt, telling Draco about her own father, and holding him as he wept; his mother's long-estranged cousin, the notorious Sirius Black, standing up to the Aurors on their behalf. Maybe...maybe Draco did have a few friends, after all, even though he had never realized it.

Damien either couldn't stay serious for very long, or had decided that he'd given Draco enough to think about for one day. He smiled cheerfully and asked, "Wanna play a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Uh, sure," Draco replied.

"If you're going to play a noisy game like that, Damien, do it in your bedroom," Aileen said without looking up. 

So Damien grabbed a handful of cookies, and they retreated to his room. Draco actually had a good time playing card games with the younger boy. At first, he sulked a little when he lost the first game, but then he noticed that Damien just laughed when he lost the next game and the cards exploded in his face. Nothing ever seemed to faze the red-haired boy or shake his good nature for long. So Draco relaxed and stopped trying to keep score or worry about being shown up; it was just a stupid card game, after all. He found he enjoyed it much more after that.

After about an hour of playing games and gossiping about Quidditch and girls, they headed back downstairs. Just then, the front door opened, and Damien's father walked in.

"You're home early today, dear," Aileen said, rising to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Liam," Narcissa said, a little nervously.

"Narcissa," Liam said, giving her a curt nod. He was a tall, handsome man with brown hair, a little more reserved than his wife and son. Draco had seen him at their Quidditch matches, his eyes filled with warmth and pride for his son, which had made Draco a little jealous, because his own father had never looked at him that way. But right now those hazel eyes were staring at Narcissa coldly; clearly he did not approve of his wife renewing her friendship with her old schoolmate. For a moment, Draco was filled with rage; how dare he look down his nose at them?! Liam Pierce worked as a foreman at a cauldron-making factory; a distinctly middle-class job. The Pierces were not poor like the Zabinis, but neither were they wealthy; they had always been beneath the notice of the old, powerful families like the Malfoys.

"Would you and Draco like to stay for dinner?" Aileen asked Narcissa, shooting a glare at her husband.

"I think not," Narcissa said, glancing at Liam. "Draco and I should be going. But thank you for the tea and...thank you for everything."

"Don't let Liam drive you away," Aileen told her. Draco stared at Damien's mother in surprise; in his experience, the pureblood wives always deferred to their husbands, at least in public. None of them would ever contradict or argue with their husbands in front of other people, where they might lose face.

"You ignored us for nearly twenty years, Narcissa," Liam said coldly, "because we were not good enough to associate with the likes of the Malfoys." Narcissa blushed with shame. "Though I confess I preferred it that way; I knew one day the final war would come, and I did not want my family dragged down with the rest of you if the Dark Lord lost, which I suspected he would."

"You never said--" Damien blurted out, looking shocked.

"Of course not," Liam said calmly. "That would not be prudent--because I could not be certain that the Dark Lord would be defeated. Because I did not want to arouse the Death Eaters' enmity. We laid low and played it safe. Fence-sitters, I believe your husband used to call us, Narcissa." Liam gave her a mocking and slightly bitter smile. "But it turns out that in the end, we were wiser than you. And now, Narcissa, you find it convenient to renew your friendship with my wife, because no one else will have you. We risk having our reputation tainted by associating with you, at a time when my son is nearly an adult, and will be looking to build a career in a few years. He may find certain doors closed to him, if people think we are Death Eater sympathizers--"

"Dad, I don't--" Damien started to say.

Liam cut him off. "My wife is willing to risk this for the sake of friendship, it seems. But tell me, Narcissa, if the Malfoys should rise to power again, will you cast her aside when you no longer need her? As you did the first time, when you graduated from Hogwarts and made your advantageous marriage into the Malfoy family?"

"Liam, that's enough!" Aileen snapped.

"No, he's right," Narcissa said quietly. "You were a good friend to me, but I left our friendship behind when I married Lucius--"

Aileen shrugged. "That's Slytherin politics; I don't hold it against you. That's just the way the world works."

"Many people curried our favor," Narcissa continued, "but they abandoned us when we fell from grace. You are the only true friend I have." She looked up and met Liam's eyes. "This time I will not forget that."

"I hope not," Liam said, not looking entirely convinced.

"I have found that there are things that matter to me more than money and power and pride," Narcissa said, turning to look at her son.

Liam looked thoughtful and nodded slightly, his expression softening as he regarded his own son. "Yes, there are," he said gravely. "I hope you remember that."

"I will," Narcissa said, rising from her seat; Draco did likewise.

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?" Aileen asked.

"Another time, perhaps," Narcissa said with a smile. "Or..." She hesitated, then said almost shyly, "Perhaps we could have you and your family over for dinner sometime." Her eyes flickered over to Liam. "If you aren't ashamed to be seen with us, that is."

"Of course not, dear!" Aileen said. She clasped Narcissa's hands for a moment and gave her a sisterly kiss on the cheek. Liam said nothing, but didn't look as hostile as he had a few minutes ago. "Take care of yourself."

"I will," Narcissa said, and she and Draco left, both feeling very humbled and shaken.

*** 

Draco, who had once ruled over Slytherin like a king, now found himself a pariah. Like his mother's false friends, the students who had once flattered him and curried his favor now avoided him. Crabbe and Goyle had remained friendly, but their mothers had forbidden them to see him. He had not heard from any of his other cronies--Rosier, Nott, Parkinson, and Bulstrode--since school had let out. In fact, Pansy's mother, who had once been Narcissa's friend, who had been pushing for a marriage between her daughter and Draco, suddenly dropped her matchmaking attempts and no longer responded to Narcissa's calls or letters.

It didn't exactly break Draco's heart to learn that he would not marry Pansy after all, but it was one more sign of how he had come down in the world. Even Brad Doherty, who had always fawned over Draco, hoping for entrance into the inner circle of the Slytherin elite, no longer paid him any heed. Instead, after the battle, he--along with Crabbe and Goyle--had taken to following Lupin around like a puppy, with a look of hero worship in his eyes. Draco was not completely bereft of companions, but he found himself keeping some rather odd company.

There were the visits to the Pierce house, of course, which helped break the tedium of what would otherwise have been a very lonely and boring summer. Draco and his mother had also taken to visiting the Averys; Narcissa and Delia had never been close before, but as the only two pardoned Death Eaters, they were developing a friendship borne of necessity, since almost no one else would associate with them.

The lack of companionship didn't seem to bother Delia, who had lost some of her cringing demeanor. She was still quiet and soft-spoken, but the ever-present fear had vanished from her eyes, replaced by a sense of calm, even at the prospect of losing the family estate.

Narcissa and Delia were sitting at the kitchen table one morning, discussing the fines that the Ministry was threatening to levy against them. Narcissa was quite worried, but Delia just shrugged indifferently and took a sip of tea. "The Ministry will get little enough out of us; they will no doubt be surprised when they find out that our account at Gringotts contains but a pittance. Andreas lived beyond his means, trying to keep up the pretense--which fooled no one, of course--that he was the equal of the Malfoys and the other prominent pureblood families."

Narcissa flushed. "I'm sorry, Delia."

Delia shrugged again. "It's not your fault. My husband was a fool."

"But if you can't pay the fines--"

"Dumbledore hired a lawyer to defend us," Delia said, smiling a little. "Severus was right about the Headmaster believing in second chances. Or perhaps he is simply concerned about Serafina. But either way, I am grateful. The lawyer says that we may have to sell the house to pay off the fines, but there should be enough left to rent an apartment and keep us fed and clothed. Not indefinitely, of course, but long enough to see Sera through school, and for me to find a job and get back on my feet."

Narcissa looked horrified. "Sell the house? Work? Are you sure that lawyer of yours is any good? Perhaps you should talk to mine--"

"He seems competent," Delia said calmly. "And I intend to sell the house no matter what happens, fines or no fines. It's too big for just the two of us, and it holds...unpleasant memories. We would be much happier in a smaller, cozier place, I think."

"Is that really all right with you?" Draco asked Serafina dubiously. They were sitting in the living room, listening in on their mothers' conversation in the kitchen. At least, Draco was trying to eavesdrop; Serafina had her nose buried in a book as usual, and didn't seem to be paying attention to anything else.

But she had been paying attention, it seemed, because without looking up from the book, she answered, "Yes. The house is too big for us to look after, anyway--especially since we don't have a house-elf. My father always hated it that your family and the Notts had one and we didn't. He was actually happy when Potter freed Dobby and Thaddeus Nott killed his house-elf."

That was not really surprising; Andreas Avery had always toadied up to Lucius Malfoy the way the students in Slytherin toadied up to Draco, but Draco had noticed the jealousy and resentment that lurked just below the surface. It had not bothered him at the time, though, since it seemed to be the natural order of things for people to envy the Malfoys, the most wealthy and powerful of the pureblood families. "But don't you mind losing your house?" Draco asked. "Losing your money, being forced to live like a...a...?"

"Commoner?" Serafina asked, with a hint of ironic amusement. "A peon? No. Mother is right, this house is full of bad memories: my father hitting me and my mother, my father plotting with Thaddeus, my father bragging about all the people he killed and tortured. I don't really care about money, Draco. So long as we have enough to live on, I'm fine."

Draco found that hard to believe, but she seemed to be sincere. Then again, Serafina had never cared about fancy clothes and expensive toys; all she really cared about were her books. She was a strange girl, but she had been nice to him after the battle, in her own way. He had thought that she hated him, but she had held him while he wept over his father, and when his mother came over to commiserate with Delia, he and Serafina talked. 

Or rather, Draco talked, and Serafina said little, but listened attentively. The first time he had come over to the Averys' with his mother, Draco had found himself pouring out his heart to Serafina, talking about his father and how hard he had tried to be a worthy son and make Lucius proud of him, and how it had hurt that he had never seemed able to win his father's approval. Then he suddenly stopped, appalled at himself for his lack of control, for babbling like an idiot; but Serafina had only nodded solemnly, her usually emotionless violet eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. 

Draco began to look forward to these visits as much as he did the ones to the Pierces' house, for different reasons. With Damien, he could laugh at the other boy's jokes and play Gobstones or Exploding Snap, as if everything were normal, temporarily forgetting his troubles. With Serafina, he could talk about his father, which he couldn't do at home, because it made his mother look sad and guilty and frightened--if he tried to talk about Lucius, his mother seemed to take it as a sign that he was angry at her for what she had done. And sometimes he was, a little, but he also loved her for it, and he didn't want to make her feel worse than she already did. But Serafina listened calmly, without judgment, when Draco reminisced about some fond childhood memory of his father, or conversely, when he talked about how angry he was at his father for betraying him.

"What are you reading, anyway?" he asked, after a short silence.

Serafina held up the book so that he could see the cover. "A book on Japanese shapeshifters; it's really quite fascinating. It contains legends about the kitsune, the tanuki, the tengu, and the crane people. You can borrow it if you like, but you have to promise to take good care of it, because it belongs to Professor Lupin."

 _All the Slytherins seem to adore Lupin now,_ Draco thought, mildly annoyed yet amused at the same time. Then he remembered the time when he had been upset about his father not caring about his Quidditch victory against Gryffindor, and how Lupin had invited him into his office for tea, and how his conversation with the werewolf had made him feel a little better. And he remembered how Lupin was always friendly to him and the other Slytherins, no matter how rude they were, and how Lupin had docked points from Gryffindor when Potter and Weasley had been gloating about Draco's father being in prison. He reluctantly admitted to himself that he liked Lupin, too, and accepted the book that Serafina held out to him.

He flipped through the pages; it did look pretty interesting, and he'd been wanting to learn more about the tengu ever since taking lessons from Master Karasu. "Thanks," Draco said. Then, remembering what Damien had told him about friends doing nice things for each other, hesitantly offered, "You could come over to our house sometime, and see if there's anything you'd like to borrow from our library." In keeping with the grandeur of their mansion, the Malfoys had an extensive library filled with rare and expensive tomes. The Aurors had confiscated a few books on the Dark Arts, but bulk of it remained intact. 

"Really?" Serafina said, her eyes lighting up. "Thanks!" Draco noted with bemusement that she was almost pretty when she smiled; he had never noticed that before, because she had never smiled at school. Draco found himself smiling back at her; maybe this friendship thing wasn't so hard, after all.

But Damien and Serafina were both Slytherins, at least. Far more disconcerting was the time he spent with his mother's cousin, Sirius Black--and perforce, Black's godson, Harry Potter. Black seemed sincere about accepting Narcissa and Draco as family: the Malfoy account at Gringotts was frozen pending a final decision about the fines to be levied against the Death Eaters, except for a small amount allotted as living expenses, so Black was paying for the lawyer who was representing Narcissa. 

He also invited them over to dinner regularly. Those meals were incredibly awkward, to put it mildly, with Narcissa and Sirius making stilted, strained attempts at conversation. Their intentions were good, but they had little in common, and it was difficult to make harmless small talk when pureblood politics and the Death Eaters were forbidden topics of conversation, and when Black bristled every time Draco or Narcissa accidentally let slip a disparaging remark about Muggles or Mudbloods. 

It was even harder to relax with the notorious Professor Blackmore sitting at the dinner table with them, not to mention Bane giving Draco the evil eye as he ate; it seemed that the raven had neither forgotten nor forgiven the bunny-hex incident. However, much to Draco's surprise, Blackmore behaved in an almost kindly and motherly manner towards both himself and Narcissa, quite at odds with her normal classroom demeanor. In fact, she helped ease the tension at the dinner table by reminiscing about the days she had taught at Hogwarts when Black and Narcissa were students there. 

She avoided mention of the Death Eaters or Lucius Malfoy, and merely shared humorous anecdotes about some mischief that Black or Narcissa or Dylan's father had gotten mixed up in. Draco was surprised to learn that his mother, the very picture of decorum, had once gotten detention for sneaking out of the dorm with Damien's mother and some other Slytherin girls to meet some boys after curfew, or that she had once snuck into the Potions Master's office on a dare to steal some ingredients for a love potion.

"Some things never change," Blackmore said one night with an amused smile, no doubt recalling the Hufflepuff students who had been caught by Snape committing a similar theft for the same reason last year.

Narcissa blushed and smiled sheepishly. "I was just a silly thirteen-year old girl," she laughed. "We did some dumb things back then."

Black chuckled and said in a voice that was both nostalgic and rueful, "We all did."

Meanwhile, Draco and Harry Potter found themselves feeling even more uncomfortable than Black and Narcissa did. It felt downright weird to be having dinner with a Gryffindor, and not just any Gryffindor, but his (former?) archenemy. Potter did not really seem hostile, though, but rather looked as if he didn't know what to say or how to act. They each pushed their food around their plates with their forks, eyeing each other warily.

"Have you decided which N.E.W.T.s you intend to take next year, Draco?" Blackmore asked casually, in an obvious attempt to break the ice and draw him into the conversation.

Draco gave her a nervous look; he wasn't used to Blackmore either addressing him by his first name or speaking to him kindly. It was almost as shocking as Snape showing up at the Slytherin dorm with mugs of hot chocolate. 

"Give the kid a break, Branwen!" Black protested, before Draco had a chance to reply. "Summer vacation just started, after all. Give him a chance to enjoy it before grilling him about exams!" Draco didn't bother to tell him that he wasn't really "enjoying" his summer vacation. He wasn't sure which was worse: spending a boring summer as a social outcast, or going back to school and having to face everyone, knowing that the entire school knew how far the Malfoys had fallen.

"I've never been of the opinion that children should let their brains rot during the summer, Sirius," Blackmore retorted in a tone of cool sarcasm. "Their minds need to be kept active in order to remain sharp."

"You'd assign homework during the summer if you could," Sirius said accusingly.

"Hmm, now that's an idea," Blackmore said in a musing tone.

"Thanks a lot, Sirius," Potter said, giving his godfather a disgruntled look, and Blackmore laughed merrily--another startling and unfamiliar sight.

"In any case," Blackmore continued, "I was merely making conversation. But it is important for Mr. Malfoy--and Mr. Potter, for that matter--to decide in advance which N.E.W.T.s they wish to take, since it is a prerequisite for certain professions. Have you given any thought as to what you will do after you graduate, Draco?"

"I dunno," Draco said, a little sullenly. "Dad was going to fix me up with a Ministry job, but..." His voice trailed off.

"You have many options still open to you, Draco," Blackmore said briskly. There was no hint of pity in her eyes or voice, for which Draco was grateful--being pitied was even worse than being sneered at or shunned. "Severus says that you have a talent for potion-brewing, and Remus was quite pleased with your work in his class, as well. And I must admit, your work in my class has been of high caliber--when you stopped feuding with the Gryffindors long enough to concentrate, that is." Both Draco and Potter blushed. "It might be difficult to make a living as a Summoner, though. People seem to have the misconception that Summoning spells are Dark Magic, even though that isn't true, strictly speaking, although they can be put to evil purposes."

"That's partly your own fault, Branwen," Black pointed out. "After you disappeared, people assumed that one of your Summonings had gone awry, and that you'd been carried off by a horde of demons or something."

"What did happen to you, anyway?" Narcissa asked her former teacher apprehensively. "The Daily Prophet was very vague about that, and the Headmaster's explanations weren't much more enlightening."

Blackmore smiled. "I was carried off by an ally I had summoned, but for my own safety. Bane and I were badly wounded after the battle with the Death Eaters, and in need of healing. But time passes differently in the realms of the elementals and their like; one day in their world could be a minute or a decade in ours. Like the old tales and legends of people who visited the faerie realm for a single night of dancing and feasting, and returned to find that centuries had passed in their own world, and all the people they knew were dead and gone. I am very fortunate that only fourteen years passed during my absence."

"Fortunate for both of us," Black said with a loving smile, and to Draco's amazement, Professor Blackmore actually blushed! He noticed that Blackmore had not really answered his mother's question, and wondered if her mysterious "ally" was a demon, as everyone seemed to think, but he suspected she wouldn't give him a straight answer--and quite frankly, he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know.

"What about you, Harry?" Blackmore asked. "Have you given any thought as to what sort of career you might be interested in?"

"Well, I wanted to be an Auror, but now that the Death Eaters are--" Potter flushed and abruptly closed his mouth when he saw Narcissa wince. "Um...I mean, I haven't really decided yet."

"Well, you have shown a great aptitude for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Blackmore said, "which is certainly a desirable quality in an Auror, but there are many other things you can do with that specialty--become a Curse-Breaker, for instance. Or you might consider going into Muggle Relations; you have a unique perspective, after all, having lived in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds." Everyone still looked a little uncomfortable, and Blackmore abruptly turned to Sirius and changed the subject. "By the way, dear, I got a letter from Severus the other day."

"Really?" Black asked cautiously. "What did it say?"

"He offered to assist us in restoring Blackmore Manor."

"Snape?" Black said dubiously, raising his eyebrows. "Offering to clean house?"

Blackmore grinned. "He probably wants to get a look at my father's library."

"I should have known," Black said, shaking his head. "Nothing else could make Snape stoop to performing so demeaning a task as housework."

"Oh, I can think of a few other things," Blackmore said with a sly smile, "and they all involve Remus." 

"Branwen! Not in front of the kids!"

"What are you talking about, Sirius?" Blackmore asked innocently. "All I meant was that Severus helped Remus and the boys clean up the cottage when they moved in at the start of summer."

Sirius flushed. "You were insinuating--"

"It's not my fault that you have a dirty mind," Blackmore interrupted, and laughed as her fiance glared at her. 

Draco noticed that Potter looked just as red as his godfather, but embarrassed rather than angry. Draco had been just as shocked as everyone else to find out that Snape and Lupin were lovers, but the idea of two men having sex with each other was hardly a big deal. In fact, from eavesdropping on his mother's gossip sessions with her friends over the years, he had learned that Snape's peers had long suspected he was gay, mainly because he had never shown any interest in his female classmates at Hogwarts, and because he had never married and sired an heir. 

"You Gryffindors are such prudes," Draco drawled, and was pleased to see Potter's blush deepen. "It's not a big deal." He turned to Black and said with a mocking grin, "Though I thank you for trying to protect our virgin ears." Potter's face was now a deep shade of crimson.

Black looked taken aback, and for a moment, Draco thought he'd gone too far. Then his cousin threw his head back and burst out laughing. 

"Draco!" Narcissa scolded, but she seemed to be trying to hold back laughter herself.

"I should have known better than to try and protect a Slytherin's tender youthful innocence," Black said, still chuckling. "If Gryffindors are prudes, then Slytherins are sybarites."

"What's a sy...sybarite?" Potter asked.

Before Draco could make a condescending reply, Blackmore explained with an amused smile, "A hedonist; one devoted to pleasure and luxury. But Sirius, I would hardly call the Gryffindors innocents, though perhaps they aren't as jaded as the Slytherins. I seem to recall you getting detention for being caught in a...compromising postion...with a young lady in the Quidditch supplies storeroom...?"

"BRANWEN!" Black howled indignantly. The women started laughing, and so did Draco and Potter, although the Gryffindor boy was still blushing. Even Bane started laughing, in a hoarse, cawing voice. Black glared at them all for a minute, then gave in and laughed as well. "Well," he said ruefully, "there are some disadvantages to marrying your former Professor, I see."

"Behave yourself, Sirius," Narcissa teased, "or she might give you detention," and everyone laughed again. Dinner progressed much more smoothly after that; Draco and Potter didn't say much, but were content to listen to the adults joking around with each other. Draco was pleased to see his mother looking happy and relaxed for a change; it was even worth the discomfort of dining with his Gryffindor rival. 

Blackmore gave Narcissa a motherly hug and kiss, and Black gave her a peck on the cheek as they said goodnight. No one tried to hug or kiss Draco, much to his relief.

"Well, uh, see you around, Malfoy," Potter said awkwardly.

"Yeah, see you around, Potter," Draco mumbled.

As he left through the fireplace with his mother, he heard Black say, "Oh, stop looking so smug, Branwen," and Blackmore reply, "Inter-House cooperation, dear."

*** 

Not long after that, a letter arrived from Dylan Rosier, inviting Draco to visit his new home, the cottage he shared with Nott, Lupin, and Snape. The letter said that Pierce was also coming over, although it said nothing about Zabini, which was rather odd. Rosier, Pierce, Nott, and Zabini had all been fast friends ever since Dylan had arrived at Hogwarts during Draco's fourth year. He stared at the letter, wondering why Dylan had invited him over; was it pity? Had either Lupin or Snape put him up to it? He wasn't sure about Snape, whose toadying up to Draco's father had apparently all been an act; on the other hand, Snape--along with Lupin--had saved Draco's life, and seemed genuinely concerned about him.

He remembered that late night discussion in the Slytherin dorm, when Snape had said that he had been trying to save Draco from the Death Eaters. Still, despite all the startling things Draco had learned about Snape, he still didn't think that the Potions Master was the sympathetic or sentimental type. However, Lupin was, and he might well have talked Rosier into issuing the invitation. Draco didn't want to be anybody's charity case, but on the other hand, he was bored, and it wasn't like the invitations were pouring in...

"What is it, Draco?" Narcissa asked.

"Rosier's invited me to come visit him and Nott," Draco replied, still not sure whether he should accept or not.

"You should go!" Narcissa said enthusiastically, perhaps relieved that her son was not a total social outcast. "I'm sure it will be fun!" When Draco looked dubious, she added practically, "Besides, Severus is Dylan's guardian now, and it can't hurt to curry a little favor with your Head of House."

Draco scowled; he was used to having people curry favor with him, not the other way around. But his mother looked happy about the invitation, and he didn't want to burst her bubble--she had little enough to smile about these days--so he sent off a reply saying that he would come.

*** 

Lupin suggested a sleepover, but Snape wasn't sure that he was up to supervising four teenage boys all night long. It was true that he was the Head of Slytherin, but he kept separate quarters from the children at school; it wasn't as if he slept in the dorm with them. Snape's parents had not exactly been ideal role models, so sometimes he felt as if he were fumbling in the dark, learning by trial and error how to become a good father to Dylan and Theodore. Dylan was usually calm and self-controlled, but the combination of Damien's mischievousness, Draco's arrogance, and Theodore's sullenness held the potential for trouble, so he thought it would be best to keep their first visit together fairly brief--he didn't want to overtax his rather shaky parenting skills, after all. If things went well, then perhaps the next visit could be an overnight one.

"You worry too much, Severus," Lupin said with an amused look on his face, but didn't argue with him. So it was decided that Damien and Draco would come over Saturday afternoon for a few hours of lunch, Quidditch practice, and whatever else the boys wanted to do to entertain themselves. 

"What about studying?" Snape asked pointedly. "That was your original suggestion, after all, Mr. Rosier."

"It's summer vacation, Severus," Lupin chided. "Let them have a little fun."

"We can do some studying, too," Dylan said, without much enthusiasm.

Well, the boys had been very diligent about studying for at least an hour or two every day, Snape conceded to himself. "Oh, never mind, Rosier," Snape said gruffly. "The two of you have been working hard at your chores and your studies; I suppose it's all right if you take a break this once."

Dylan and Theodore stared at him in amazement, then Dylan grinned and said, "Thank you, Professor!"

"But don't think I'm going to let you slack off for the entire summer!" Snape warned.

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused meekly, although they didn't seem to be fooled by his stern tone of voice, because Dylan kept grinning and even Theodore smiled a little. Snape sighed to himself, thinking that yes, he was definitely losing his edge, and it was all Lupin's fault. He glared at his lover, who just laughed and gave him a hug.

"Cut that out, Lupin!" 

Lupin ignored him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and the boys giggled. Ah well, all in all, things were going pretty well, Snape supposed. He could finally live openly with his lover, even if that lover seemed to take a perverse pleasure in embarrassing him in public, and at least the werewolf's antics seemed to keep the boys amused. So far Dylan and Theodore had adapted remarkably well to their new life, and Snape knew that was due in great part to Lupin, who instinctively seemed to know when to joke with them and make them laugh, and when to offer a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. So he simply stood there and let Lupin hold him and nuzzle him affectionately, although he made a great show of heaving a long-suffering sigh of resignation.

*** 

Draco emerged from the fireplace, fastidiously dusting ashes off his robe and broomstick. He looked around the cottage, idly noting that the entire building could almost fit in the Malfoy living room. "Hi Draco," Dylan said, smiling at him pleasantly. Damien was already there, and also gave Draco a friendly smile; Theodore, on the other hand, was regarding him warily.

"Hello Draco," Lupin said cheerfully. "It's nice to see you again." Snape just nodded at him.

"Um, hi," Draco said, feeling a little uncomfortable about how the balance of power had shifted between himself and the other boys. Maybe Rosier and Pierce didn't hold a grudge against him, but he suspected Nott still did, judging by the look in his eyes.

"Well, you boys run along," Lupin continued blithely, not seeming to notice the tension in the room. "Lunch will be ready in about an hour."

"Thanks, Remus," Dylan said. "Come on, let's go." 

"You call him 'Remus'?" Draco asked after they had left the cottage.

"Yeah, sure," Dylan replied casually. "He asked us to. He said we're not in school right now, so we could call him by name."

Draco felt a brief pang of envy, although he wasn't sure why. "You don't call Snape 'Severus,' do you?"

Dylan laughed. "Merlin, no! He made it quite clear that he prefers to be called 'Professor'! It wouldn't feel right, anyway, calling Snape by his first name." He and Theodore grinned at each other.

Draco was relieved to see Nott looking less hostile, but at the same time, a little put out as he realized that he would probably no longer be Snape's most favored student. Slytherins always favored their own, and now that Snape no longer had to cater to Lucius Malfoy, he would probably favor his two foster sons over the rest of the students, especially since Dylan had been his pet practically from the moment he had set foot on the school grounds...

"Catch," Dylan said, interrupting Draco's train of thought. Draco blinked and managed to get his hands up in time to prevent a Quaffle from hitting him in the face. "Lupin borrowed a Quaffle and a Snitch from Hogwarts for us to practice with," Dylan said. "I figured we could do without the Bludgers for now."

"Definitely," Damien said, wincing a little; he had been hit by one during their match against Ravenclaw.

Draco felt a brief flicker of resentment at the way Rosier had taken charge of things, but fought back the urge to snap at the other boy. Things were different now, after all, whether he liked it or not. And Dylan was smiling at him in a friendly manner, and didn't seem to be trying to lord it over him. In fact, all three of the boys seemed to be waiting for his approval before starting their practice. It was probably just force of habit, but it made Draco feel a little better. Even if he'd lost status in Slytherin, at least he was still the Captain of the Quidditch team. That was a small comfort, and he tried not to think about the possibility of Snape demoting him in favor of Dylan.

"Well, let's get started, then," Draco said, in a tone of only slightly forced cheer. He did enjoy himself once they were up in the air; he had always loved flying, and the sense of freedom that accompanied it. Things went well for the better part of an hour; they mainly practiced passing and blocking, trying to become accustomed to working with Nott and vice versa. Draco decided that Nott would probably make a good Chaser; he was pretty good on a broomstick, and able to react quickly in response to his teammates' or opponents' actions. Although those qualities would also come in handy for a Keeper, come to think of it.

They landed to take a break after a good workout. Draco had noticed while they were up in the air that the house was surrounded by forest, and that there were no other buildings visible as far as the eye could see. "This place is really out in the middle of nowhere," he said.

Theodore scowled at him, but Dylan smiled and said, "Lupin says that's why his parents built the cottage here; so that there would be no neighbors to hear him howling during the full moon."

"Yeah, that's right," Draco acknowledged. "I almost forgot there was no Wolfsbane Potion back then, so he'd have to be locked up." He flushed a little, remembering how he had insulted Lupin in the past, and how Lucius Malfoy had helped influence the Ministry into passing the anti-werewolf legislation that had only been recently rescinded.

"So what's there to do out here?" Damien asked curiously.

Dylan shrugged. "It's no worse than being stuck out on Uncle Math's estate in Wales, and at least I'm not a prisoner here. We walk through the woods, play chess and cards, fly on our broomsticks...and Snape keeps us busy." Dylan grinned. "He says he doesn't believe in letting children remain idle all summer--he has us studying to prepare for next year's classes and exams, and he assigned us regular chores to do. We helped him brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, and we help with the cooking and cleaning and gardening--"

"Chores?" Draco asked in horror. "You have to cook and clean like a house-elf?!"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy!" Theodore snapped. 

"How dare you talk to me that way!" Draco retorted automatically, forgetting for a moment that he had no power over his fellow Slytherins anymore.

Theodore just sneered at him. "Still acting all high and mighty, Malfoy?"

"Take it easy, you two," Damien said nervously, but they both ignored him.

"You're forgetting your place, Nott!"

"You're the one who's forgotten your place, Malfoy! I've had to suck up to you since I was five years old, and I'm sick of it! You're nothing now that you don't have your daddy to protect you--"

Draco let out a wordless cry of anger and lunged at Nott; Damien grabbed him and held him back, while Dylan tried, without success, to calm Nott down.

"Theo, that's enough already, please!"

Meanwhile, Draco struggled to break out of Damien's grip. "Don't you talk about my father that way!"

"I don't have to listen to you anymore," Theodore taunted. "Your precious father is dead; there's nothing he can do to me now!"

"Your father's dead, too!" Draco shouted.

Theodore's gray-green eyes glittered strangely, and for a moment, he didn't look entirely sane. "Yes, and I'm glad!" he screamed. "I hate him, I hate all the Death Eaters, I wish they were all dead--"

"Stop it!" Dylan shouted, looking a little frightened. "Stop it, both of you!"

Draco managed to free himself, shoved Damien away, and reached for his wand; Nott did likewise.

"STOP THIS INSTANT OR I'LL GIVE YOU ALL DETENTION FOR A MONTH!" Professor Snape roared. All four boys instantly froze in place. There was a very long silence, and then Lupin piped up cheerfully:

"But Severus, you can't give them detention; it's summer vacation."

That seemed to break the tension, and Dylan laughed weakly, although the other three boys were still too intimidated to laugh in the face of the Potions Master's anger. But Lupin was grinning, and although Snape was giving him a sour look, he no longer looked quite so furious. "Well then, I can give them detention when school starts again," he said grumpily.

"That's not really fair, is it?" Lupin pointed out. "To give them detention for something that happened during the summer?"

"I'm a Slytherin, Lupin," Snape said dryly. "The word 'fair' isn't in my vocabulary."

Lupin chuckled, then walked over to Theodore and slipped an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Draco has made some mistakes in the past," Lupin said kindly, "but so have we all. We're very lucky that we've been granted a second chance to start over again." 

"I know," Theodore mumbled, flushing and looking ashamed of himself. Draco wondered what Nott was ashamed of--that he had not stood up to the Death Eaters before? Or perhaps the recently revealed news about his uncle's murder? Then Draco went over Lupin's words in his mind again, and he wondered about something else.

"Um, Professor?" Draco asked hesitantly. "You said 'we all' have made mistakes in the past. What mistakes did you make?"

"I made many mistakes, Draco," Lupin said with a sad smile. "I didn't stand up to my Gryffindor friends when they played cruel pranks on the Slytherins, or even when they simply made prejudiced and insulting remarks about them. I regret that I didn't trust Severus enough to tell him about my lycanthropy, and I regret that I didn't trust my Gryffindor friends enough to tell them about my love for Severus. I regret that I believed my friend Sirius was a traitor. I regret that I didn't try harder to mend the rift between Severus and myself when--"

"Enough, Lupin," Snape interrupted gruffly, looking a little guilty. "Don't wallow in self-pity. As you said, we've all made mistakes."

Lupin smiled at him, gave Theodore a hug, then walked over to Draco and laid a hand on his shoulder. "And Draco, I know it's hard to break old habits, but if you want to have friends--real friends, not just people who are interested in your money or your power--you need to learn to treat them with kindness and respect."

"I know," Draco muttered, remembering that Damien had told him something similar. "It's just...I'm not used to this. Almost overnight, people went from respecting us to looking down on us."

"The Malfoys were not precisely respected, Draco," Snape said, but not unkindly. "They were feared; there is a difference."

"And now that they don't fear us anymore," Draco said slowly, working things out in his mind, "they feel free to hate us, or gloat at us, to get back at us for the times that we...um...bossed them around?" He flushed, recalling the way Damien had said that he bossed everyone in Slytherin around.

"Exactly, Malfoy," Snape said, looking both amused and sympathetic at the same time. It was a little shocking to see Snape, of all people, with a look of sympathy on his face.

"You did not have friends before, Draco," Lupin said. "They were simply people who feared you or wanted favors from you. But now you have a chance to make some real friends, people who will care about you and stand by you through thick and thin."

"But everyone hates me!" Draco wailed, then cringed at how pathetic he sounded.

The other boys stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, then Dylan stepped forward. "Well, the Headmaster believes in second chances," he said. "He allowed me to enter Hogwarts when everyone was telling him not to. And Professor Snape helped me even though I was stupid and got myself mixed up with the Death Eaters. So I'm willing to be your friend, Draco--so long as you treat me like a friend, not a lackey."

Damien grinned and slapped Draco on the back. "You're all right, Malfoy, when you're not acting all lordly. Just remember that no one's going to suck up to you anymore. I think we can break you of the habit, with a little practice." Draco looked affronted for a moment, but the other boy kept grinning at him, and Draco managed a tentative smile in response. 

Everyone turned and looked at Theodore--Draco apprehensively, and the others expectantly. Theodore scowled at them sullenly.

"Aw, come on, Theo," Damien cajoled. "Give him a chance. You can always change your mind if he starts acting like a prat again." 

"Gee, thanks," Draco said a little sarcastically, not sure whether to be pleased or insulted by his new friend's efforts to help him.

"That's what friends are for," Damien said cheerfully, apparently unoffended.

"He did fight against the Death Eaters in the end," Dylan reminded Theodore.

Nott hunched his shoulders a little, still looking stubborn, but also unhappy, as if he felt bad about resisting his friends' entreaties. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said before, about working like a house-elf," Draco said awkwardly; he wasn't used to making apologies. "I just wasn't thinking, okay?" Theodore stared at him silently, looking uncertain and a little suspicious. 

"Do you really hate me that much, Nott?" Draco asked, feeling rather puzzled. Of course he had known all along that their "friendship" had been one dictated by their parents' alliance, but he hadn't realized how much hostility the other boy had been carrying towards him, and the Death Eaters in general. Crabbe and Goyle, and even Rosier, didn't seem to resent him the way Nott did.

Theodore snorted derisively. "Do you think it's fun listening to, 'Fetch this for me, Nott,' and 'Fetch that for me, Nott,' and 'Do my homework for me, Nott,' all the time?"

Draco flushed at the way Nott had imitated his voice, and wondered if he really sounded that snotty, or if Nott was just exaggerating. Probably the former, he reluctantly admitted to himself. "I guess not," Draco mumbled.

"Are you really mad at Draco?" Lupin asked gently. "Or is it someone else that you're really angry at? The Death Eaters, or your father, perhaps...?"

Theodore hung his head, his dark hair falling forward over his face, not quite hiding the sudden redness spreading across his cheeks. "I hated being Draco's lackey," he whispered, "because it reminded me of the way my father acted like Lucius Malfoy's lapdog. Because it reminded me that someday I'd have to join the Death Eaters, too."

That whisper unnerved Draco far more than Nott's earlier shouted insults. "I didn't know that you hated the Death Eaters, Nott," he said in a subdued voice. "I mean, not until the final battle."

Theodore looked up and met his eyes, looking more weary than angry now. "I'm not stupid, Draco. If I'd said what I really thought, your father would have had me killed--providing my father didn't beat him to it."

"Why did you hate the Death Eaters?" Draco asked. Apparently both Theodore and Serafina had never wanted to become Death Eaters, and Dylan had been actively working against them ever since he was Marked. It made Draco feel a little stupid and completely out of the loop. Was he the only one besides Crabbe and Goyle (who were none too bright themselves) who had not seen the Death Eaters for what they really were?

"Because my father was one," Theodore said in a flat voice, "and he's been torturing me with hexes for as long as I can remember." Draco stared at him in shock. "And because he killed my uncle, who threatened to expose him. When we met our fathers in Hogsmeade on Halloween, he told me that if I refused to become a Death Eater, I would still serve the Dark Lord as a sacrifice--and I almost did. If it hadn't been for Professor Lupin and Professor Snape..." He shuddered a little, and Snape patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"I...I didn't know," Draco whispered.

"You were sheltered, Draco," Snape told him gravely. "Partly because you never saw the inner workings of the Death Eaters, never saw them scheming and fighting to win the Dark Lord's favor, never saw the way the Dark Lord punished his servants when they displeased him. I am sure that your father told you only about the power and glory the Death Eaters would reap, not about the times that Voldemort inflicted Cruciatus Curses on us and made us grovel at his feet. And also because Lucius left your upbringing mainly to Narcissa, and she was a loving and indulgent mother. Too indulgent sometimes; quite frankly, I thought you were spoiled, but I guess she didn't mess things up completely, since you're not dead or in Azkaban..."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Thank you for being so tactful as always, Severus," he said. Dylan laughed, and the other boys smiled a little.

"Sarcasm does not become you, Lupin," Snape said coolly, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly. "It is better suited to a Slytherin, not a softhearted Gryffindor. And the word 'tact'--"

"Is not in your vocabulary," Lupin finished with a grin. "I know, I know. Shall we go in and have lunch now?"

Everyone turned to look at Theodore and Draco. Draco hesitantly held out his hand and said, "Truce, Nott?" He found himself holding his breath as Theodore stared at him intently for what seemed to Draco like a very long time. 

Theodore glanced over at Lupin, who smiled at him encouragingly. "All right," he sighed, a little reluctantly, and reached out and shook Draco's hand. "Truce. But if you start ordering me about--"

"No point in that," Draco said, trying not to sound sulky. "It's pretty clear that nobody will listen to me if I do." Dylan, Damien, and Lupin started chuckling, and Draco bristled for a moment until he realized that they were laughing with him, not at him, and he gave in and laughed, too. It was a surprisingly good feeling. Theodore didn't laugh, but he did smile at them.

"I'm so proud of you two!" Lupin declared, giving first Theodore, and then a very startled Draco each a hug.

"Don't mind the werewolf, Draco," Snape said sardonically, but there was a glimmer of laughter in his black eyes. "He tends to get emotional at times, particularly near the full moon. Lupin, will you please try to restrain yourself?"

"Sorry, Sev," Lupin said with a wide grin, not looking very contrite. "Come on, lunch is getting cold."

So they went back to the cottage for lunch, and Lupin served them sandwiches and soup and butterbeer. "Severus made the soup," he said cheerily.

As Draco's mouth fell open, Snape glared at the werewolf and snapped, "Dammit, Lupin, I told you not to say anything about that!"

"I don't know why you're making such a fuss," Lupin said with a look of innocent bewilderment. "Didn't you say that cooking is rather like potion brewing--following the recipe and mixing the proper ingredients?" Snape began to make a low sound deep in his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "Besides, it's very good soup--don't you think so, Draco?"

Draco tried a spoonful; it really was good. "It's delicious, Professor," he said, giving Snape a nervous smile. Snape did not look very mollified.

"Stop glowering like that, Severus," Lupin said calmly. "You'll ruin the boys' appetites and curdle the butterbeer."

"Butterbeer doesn't curdle," Snape retorted in a snippy tone of voice, but toned down his glare and started eating. "I wish you'd stop embarrassing me in front of the children," he grumbled.

"What, you mean like this?" Lupin asked, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

"LUPIN!"

"They do this all the time," Dylan reassured a wide-eyed Draco and Damien.

"I think I'm actually starting to get used to it," Theodore said.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get used to that," Damien said.

"I still can't believe it," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "Snape and the werewolf..." Theodore glared at him, and he added, "Oh, don't get your shorts in a twist, Nott. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, just that it's hard to believe. They saved my life, too, you know."

Snape might have gotten annoyed at his students discussing his love life at the kitchen table in front of him, except that he was too busy fending off Lupin to notice. The werewolf had put his arms around Snape and was nuzzling him affectionately, ignoring his spluttering and blustering. "Lupin, will you stop that?!"

"I can't help it; it's the wolf in me," Lupin laughed, but he let go of Snape.

"The full moon's already passed, Lupin," Snape growled, then changed the subject. "I hope you've been thinking about which N.E.W.T.s you plan to take next year, Mr. Malfoy. It's not too early to start studying for them."

"Really, Severus," Lupin said, "can't you just let them enjoy their summer vacation?"

"Professor Blackmore already told me the same thing," Draco said quickly, before Snape could make a retort. "But I haven't really decided yet. Dad had everything planned out; he was going to get me an apprenticeship at the Ministry, but..." His voice trailed off. He looked down at his plate to avoid seeing any pity in his companions' eyes.

"You might consider a career in Potions," Snape suggested.

"I think you would be well-suited to a career in advertising or publicity," Lupin said. Draco looked up in surprise to see the werewolf's blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Er...what do you mean, sir?"

"I was just remembering the 'Weasley Is Our King' song and the roses you ordered for the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match last year," Lupin replied. "Very creative. Not very nice, perhaps, but very creative. And certainly effective."

"That was so embarrassing," Dylan groaned.

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Damien told him. "I'd love to have a horde of admiring fans waving flowers at me!"

"You're welcome to them," Dylan said.

"Hey, I know what I wanna do when I graduate!" Damien laughed. "Become a professional Quidditch player! Women love 'em--you remember the way all the girls swooned over Krum!"

"Be serious, Mr. Pierce," Snape told him sourly. 

"I _am_ serious," Damien protested.

Snape rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed, "Merlin help us!"

"You might want to have a backup plan," Lupin suggested gently. "Just in case the Quidditch thing doesn't pan out."

"Advertising, hmm?" Draco said thoughtfully. It was not quite what he'd had in mind, but it did sound sort of intriguing. "What kind of classes would I have to take?"

"Charms, Illusion, possibly Transfiguration," Lupin said. 

"Will Hogwarts still have Illusion classes next semester?" Draco asked. "Isn't Master Satoshi going back to Japan?"

"No, he's decided to stay at Hogwarts for at least another year," Lupin replied. "Apparently he really enjoyed teaching all of you."

"Really?" Snape asked skeptically. "Karasu told me it was because there were still a few jealous husbands and swindled customers looking for the tanuki back in Japan."

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin scolded, "it isn't very professional to gossip about your fellow teachers, particularly in front of the students."

"I had no idea you were so concerned with propriety, Lupin," Snape retorted. "It's not very professional to kiss a fellow teacher in front of your students, either." He instantly realized that he had made a mistake by saying that, but it was too late to take it back.

"You mean like this?"

"LUPIN!"

The boys quickly finished their lunch and retreated to Dylan's and Theodore's room, sparing the Potions Master further humiliation. "Watching them is actually kind of entertaining," Damien chuckled as they started to play a game of cards.

"You should see the way Potter blushes whenever anyone even mentions their names," Draco laughed. "The Gryffindors are such prudes!" Then he noticed that all three of the other boys were staring at him in shock.

"Since when do you hang around with Potter?" Damien asked.

"He's Sirius Black's godson," Draco said, a little defensively. "And Black is my mother's cousin. He's been helping my mum out, hired a lawyer to keep the Ministry from confiscating our estate. So we have dinner with him once in awhile. And since Potter and Blackmore live with him..."

"That's right, I almost forgot he's engaged to Professor Blackmore!" Damien said, then snickered a little. "I almost feel sorry for Potter; I wonder what it's like, having Blackmore for a stepmother?"

"She's not so bad, really," Draco admitted. "She's not as scary as she is in the classroom, though I still wouldn't cross her. What's it like having Snape for a foster father?"

"Not so bad," Dylan said with a grin. "Lupin keeps him from being too tough on us. Don't tell Snape I said so, but whenever they argue, Lupin usually ends up winning..."

The boys spent a pleasant hour playing cards and gossiping about their teachers until it was time for Damien and Draco to leave. 

"Feel free to stop by again sometime," Lupin said cheerfully. "Maybe next weekend?"

Draco and Theodore both hesitated, staring at each other, then Theodore shrugged and said, "Sure, why not? We need to practice if we're to beat Gryffindor next year."

"You can practice for your N.E.W.T.s as well," Snape said, the hint of sadistic glee in his eyes making him look much more like the old Snape that they were used to seeing. "I'll prepare some practice exam sheets for you."

"Sure you still want to come?" Dylan laughed.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Draco said firmly, and he meant it.

*** 

Snape and Lupin were having a cup of tea and enjoying each other's company one morning when an owl arrived with a letter for Snape. Lupin noticed that the envelope was sealed with a blob of blue wax stamped with a stylized Z that resembled a lightning bolt. Snape broke the seal, read the letter, and frowned.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Where is Theodore?" Snape asked, without answering Lupin's question.

Severus looked troubled and a little angry, so Lupin didn't bother trying to coax or tease the information out of him as he would normally have done. "He and Dylan are working in the garden."

"Bring them in here, please."

Severus had just said "please" without any hint of sarcasm or humor; this must be serious. Lupin immediately got up to fetch the boys.

As they walked in, staring at Snape nervously, he held up the letter and asked, "Mr. Nott, would you care to tell me why Mr. Zabini--the elder Mr. Zabini, that is--has asked me to assign his son a new roommate next term?"

Theodore gasped, looking stricken, and Snape regretted being so blunt, but as Lupin had once pointed out, he wasn't very good at being tactful, and there was really no nice way to break this sort of news, after all. "I...I don't know," Theodore stammered. "But...but I suspected, after Blaise's letter, that they didn't want him to see me. I mean, it's kind of odd for his dad not to let him have a day off. I was worried that maybe his parents didn't want him hanging around a Death Eater's son, but I was hoping that I was wrong..."

"You're not going to split up Blaise and Theo, are you?" Dylan asked anxiously.

"What does the letter say?" Lupin asked simultaneously.

Snape chose to answer Lupin first. "Marius was never one to play politics, but he isn't stupid enough to openly insult my foster son. He gives a lot of vague reasons, such as Blaise needing to concentrate more on his studies and not be distracted by friends, and the benefits of learning to associate with people outside of his inner circle of friends, but reading between the lines, I would say that Theodore is correct."

"But--" Theodore began.

"Calm down, Mr. Nott," Snape said in a cool voice, but there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "I see no reason to change your current living arrangements; I don't allow the parents to dictate such things to me." _Now that Lucius Malfoy is dead,_ he added silently. 

"Besides," Dylan pointed out practically, "all the other boys in Theo's age group are the sons of Death Eaters as well."

"Please don't make me room with Crabbe or Goyle," Theodore groaned with a look of exaggerated horror. "Or worse, Malfoy!"

Snape chuckled a little. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. However, I believe that a little chat with Marius Zabini is in order."

"Is that really necessary?" Theodore asked nervously. "Won't it just make things worse?"

"Perhaps we can allay Mr. Zabini's fears," Snape replied. "Or at least make it clear to him that one does not tell the Head of Slytherin what to do."

Theodore looked even more worried, and Lupin said dryly, "Perhaps you should let me do the talking, Severus. We might try tact before you bring out the threats and intimidation."

Snape shrugged. "As you wish, Lupin. Personally, I find threats and intimidation to be far more effective."

"There is a difference between respect and fear, Severus," Lupin said, quoting what Snape had said to Draco during his visit.

Snape scowled and flushed a little. "Fine. But I warn you, you have your work cut out for you. The Zabinis aren't quite as snobbish as the other Slytherin families--mainly because they aren't in a position to look down on others--but they were one of the families who wrote to me protesting about a werewolf being allowed to teach their children."

"Things are different now," Lupin said in a quiet but determined voice. "I'm a hero of the war; the Daily Prophet said so. I don't like exploiting that bit of propaganda, but I will if I have to. And I've been dealing with bigots all my life; I'm not afraid of a few insults."

"Very well," Snape said, regarding his lover with a look of respect; Lupin wasn't really as soft as he appeared to be at times. "I have an appointment with my lawyer the day after tomorrow. You can all come along; Theodore and Dylan ought to meet her, since she's been working on their behalf. Then we can stop by the Zabinis' shop in Diagon Alley." He seemed calmer now that he had decided on a course of action, and gave the boys a nod of dismissal.

"Everything will be all right," Lupin said with a kind and reassuring smile.

Theodore, however, was not reassured. As he and Dylan headed back to the garden, he said gloomily, "Well, that's just great. If Blaise's father starts insulting Lupin, Snape will probably turn him into a toad."

"Yeah, but then Lupin will change him back," Dylan said with a grin.

"It's not funny!" Theodore protested.

"Sorry, Theo," Dylan said soothingly. "I was just trying to cheer you up. Don't worry, everything will work out. Snape's already said that he won't separate you two; the Zabinis can forbid Blaise to see you during the summer, but they can't do anything once you're back in school. And after you guys turn eighteen and graduate--"

"What if they threaten to disown him?" Theodore interrupted, voicing his worst fear. "Would he really choose me over his family?"

"My mother chose my father over her family," Dylan reminded him quietly. "But hopefully it won't come to that."

"I know that all the girls in Slytherin think that story about your parents is the most romantic thing they've ever heard," Theodore said, still looking frantic. "But one of the reasons why they find it so romantic is because it's the kind of thing you read about in books that almost never happens in real life. You grew up in exile, away from all the politics, so I don't know if you realize how much family and carrying on the bloodline means to the purebloods, Dylan. Even if Snape manages to smooth this over now, sooner or later they'll want to arrange a marriage for Blaise, and when they find out about us, they'll hit the roof. Personally, I don't care if the Nott line dies out, but Blaise's parents aren't like mine, and he loves them..."

"He loves you, too, Theo," Dylan said gently. "He won't abandon you. If he wouldn't let the Death Eaters scare him away from you, he certainly won't let his parents come between you."

"But his family--"

"I've met them at the Quidditch matches," Dylan said. "They seem like nice people, and they love him. They might be upset when they find out that you two are lovers, but I don't think they'll disown him over it."

"Are you sure?" Theodore asked, sounding both hopeful and skeptical at the same time.

"Pretty sure," Dylan replied. "They don't strike me as being as stubborn as my grandmother. Uncle Math says she was different when she was younger, but she always seemed cold and hard to me. Not just because of the way she treated my mother, but the way she was able to kill her sons without batting an eye. Blaise's parents aren't like her."

"But they'll still want an heir," Theodore said. "Maybe...maybe if he has to get married, we could still...you know..." That was the way it had been done for hundreds of years, after all: people made political marriages and had heirs of the proper bloodlines to satisfy their families, and discreetly kept lovers of their own choosing on the side. But even the thought of making such an arrangement with Blaise made Theo feel sick; he didn't think he could stand to share Blaise with someone else, and it all seemed so sordid, somehow...maybe some of Lupin's Gryffindor idealism had rubbed off on him.

"Don't be stupid!" Dylan said, sounding angry. "Blaise wouldn't do something like that!" 

Theodore felt a peculiar sense of relief at the indignation in his friend's voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right, you stupid git," Dylan said, but in an affectionate tone. "He loves you. Don't worry about it. And besides, he has a sister, right?"

"Yeah, Allegra. She's supposed to be starting at Hogwarts next term, I think."

"Well then, the Zabini line won't die out if she has kids someday."

"But she's a girl..."

Dylan shrugged. "So what? The Donner title and the Blackmore title are passed down from mother to daughter. And a woman can inherit the title in other families if there's no male heir available to claim it: Serafina will inherit the Avery estate since her father had no sons."

Theodore wasn't sure that the Zabinis would see it that way, but at least it gave him a little hope--more than if Blaise had been an only child, anyway. Sometimes he envied his foster brother's close relationship with Snape, but right now he was very, very glad that Dylan was here. "I'm really glad that you're my brother now, Dylan."

"Me too," said Dylan. "It was lonely sometimes, out on Uncle Math's estate. None of the villagers would let their children play with me. I loved my mother and Math and Goewin, but I used to wish that I had a brother or sister, and now I do." Dylan teared up a little at the thought of his mother, but he smiled, and Theodore smiled back at him, feeling some of his anxiety ease. "Everything will be all right," Dylan said, and Theodore tried to believe him.

*** 

Two days later, Lupin and the boys followed Snape through the fireplace and emerged in a posh-looking office. A beautiful young woman rose from her desk to greet them; she was clad in sleek, wine-colored robes and her reddish-blonde hair was twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head. She smiled at them pleasantly, but there was something in her green eyes that made the wolf in Lupin stir and regard her with a sense of caution. Something about her reminded him of Lukas, although he didn't think that she was a werewolf...and then he realized that the wolf was recognizing a fellow predator, albeit a human one. Despite her pleasant smile, he sensed that she would be a dangerous woman to cross, and Lupin was suddenly very glad that she was on their side.

Snape didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and introduced his family to the woman. "Morrigan, this is my colleague, Remus Lupin, and our foster sons, Dylan Rosier and Theodore Nott. Lupin, Dylan, Theodore...this is Morrigan De Lacy, the lawyer working on our behalf."

"I'm very pleased to finally meet all of you," Morrigan said, still smiling, and shook their hands.

"Morrigan...De Lacy?" Lupin asked, his eyes widening. "Are you by any chance related to--?"

"Augustine De Lacy, the former Head of Slytherin?" Morrigan finished. "Yes, he was my uncle."

"I had no idea...why didn't you tell me that your lawyer was Professor De Lacy's niece, Severus?"

Snape shrugged. "You never asked. Besides, you were neither a Slytherin nor a particularly good Potions student; I didn't think you were especially close to the Professor."

"Besides," said Morrigan with a mischievous smile, "I suspect Severus enjoys catching people off-guard." Snape glowered at her, and Lupin laughed.

The name "De Lacy" nagged at Theodore's memory, and then he remembered a conversation that he had once overheard between his father and Andreas Avery. "Professor De Lacy...he was murdered by Death Eaters, wasn't he?" Theodore asked nervously.

"That is correct," Morrigan replied calmly.

"Then...why are you helping us?"

Morrigan was silent for a long moment, as if taking some time to decide how to reply. "I would not represent just anyone, Mr. Nott. Some of the imprisoned Death Eaters asked me to represent them, and I turned them down. But from what Severus has told me, it seems to me that you and Mr. Rosier are as much victims of the Death Eaters as my uncle was. Nor do I have any particular love for the Ministry; they were not very sympathetic to my family when my uncle was killed. At the time, all Slytherins were regarded with suspicion."

"You seem to get along very well with Severus," Lupin observed, "considering that most people believed he was a Death Eater himself up until recently."

"I never quite knew what to make of Severus," Morrigan said. "Of course I heard all the rumors, but Uncle Augustine always spoke highly of him; I found it hard to believe that he could have had a part in my uncle's death. And he was kind to me when I was a student at Hogwarts."

Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore all stared at Snape with identical looks of open-mouthed shock. Snape glared at Morrigan as if she were an errant student and snapped, "Ms. De Lacy!"

"Well, kind for a Slytherin and suspected Death Eater," Morrigan clarified with a laugh, not seeming to be intimidated by her former Professor. "I was a student when Severus began teaching at Hogwarts, shortly after Uncle Augustine died. He expressed sympathy to me in private, and it seemed to be sincere. As a teacher, he didn't favor me, but he treated me fairly. And he discouraged some of the students from harassing me."

"Oh, you did most of that on your own, Morrigan," Snape said, a small smile of malicious satisfaction playing around the corners of his mouth, although he still looked slightly peeved. "You were quite handy with hexes." He turned to Lupin and said, "Some of the Death Eater sympathizers were verbally harassing her because her uncle had been branded a traitor. And one of the boys tried to...ah...take liberties with her person. She cast a very nasty Stinging Hex upon all the offending parts of the young man's anatomy."

Both Snape and Morrigan grinned widely. Yes, Morrigan De Lacy was definitely not one to cross, Lupin decided. "Let me guess," he said aloud. "You were a Slytherin."

"Of course," Morrigan laughed. "I am a lawyer, after all. That goes without saying."

"After that," Snape continued, "the students left her alone. Particularly once I reminded them that her uncle was a Potions Master with a special talent for poisons. I did promise to do my best to have her sent to Azkaban if she succeeded in murdering any of them, but they didn't seem to find that very comforting."

"Fortunately, they didn't call your bluff," Morrigan said. "Because I didn't inherit my uncle's talent for Potions. I got decent grades in Potions class because I followed the instructions correctly, but I just didn't have that natural feel for it that one must have to become a Master. Uncle Augustine had no children of his own, and I think he was a little disappointed that there didn't seem to be any potential Potions Masters among his nieces and nephews. Which was why he was so pleased when you came along, Severus. He was happy to have a protege to pass his knowledge on to, even if it wasn't one of his own blood. And while I may not be a Potions Master, I am a very good lawyer."  "Indeed you are, Ms. De Lacy," Snape said. "That became apparent to me when you managed to talk Professor McGonagall out of giving you detention when you transfigured one of your harassers into a pig during her class. In fact, by the time you were done, I thought she was going to give you extra points for performing such an advanced spell!"

Lupin chuckled, and the boys looked a little bemused--both at the sight of Snape laughing with a former student, and at the thought of someone being able to talk McGonagall out of handing out a detention.

"Suffice it to say that I was never fully convinced that Severus was a Death Eater," Morrigan said. "Besides what I knew of him from my uncle and my own personal experience, there was the fact that Dumbledore hired him. While the Headmaster has a reputation as a bleeding heart, he isn't a fool. So when I heard that Severus had been working against Voldemort all along, I was relieved, but in hindsight, not surprised."

Lupin smiled tenderly at Snape and said, "So someone besides Albus, Branwen, and myself had faith in you, Severus." Snape just glared at Lupin, feeling rather miffed that his image as the sinister Potions Master and terror of the students at Hogwarts had apparently not been as convincing as he had thought it was.

"It's a good thing she wasn't a Death Eater," he grumbled, "or I'd probably be dead." 

"No chance of that," Morrigan said, looking serious now. Then in a brisk tone, she said, "Well, enough reminiscing about the past. Shall we get down to business?" Snape nodded, and Morrigan said, "Please take a seat," indicating the four chairs neatly arrayed in front of her desk. Once they were seated, she took her own seat and picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk. "I have reached a tentative agreement with the Ministry, pending your approval, of course. Regarding Mr. Nott's petition, a fine of one thousand Galleons will be levied against the Nott account at Gringotts, but the Ministry will drop all further claims against the Nott estate, and confirm Theodore as the Nott heir."

"I had expected the fines to be heavier," Snape said, looking a little surprised.

Morrigan smiled in a very smug manner. "I was able to bargain them down, using the Aurors' abuse of authority during the search at Nott Manor as leverage. It could be rather embarrassing for them if that little incident were made public."

"Does the public really care if the Aurors trash a Death Eater's house?" Theodore asked cynically.

"No, but they might care if the Aurors trashed the room and personal belongings of a child, an orphaned boy who rejected his parents' teachings and courageously fought against the Death Eaters at the risk of his own life," Morrigan replied, and Theodore's face turned red. "I apologize, Mr. Nott; I do not mean to make light of your situation," she said in a gentler voice. "I know that you would not exploit your personal losses for sympathy, and that you would not want that incident to become public knowledge. The Ministry doesn't know that, however, and I have no compunctions about using it to shame them into lowering the fine and giving up their claim on your estate."

"I...see," Theodore murmured thoughtfully, the flush fading from his face.

"Of course, your friend Arthur Weasley was urging them to reach an amicable settlement, but he can only push so far without alienating all of his under-Ministers," Morrigan told Snape and Lupin.

"He's not _my_ friend!" Snape snapped in a waspish voice, and Lupin chuckled.

Morrigan ignored the interruption and continued, "The fine is steep enough that the Ministry will not lose face, but it still leaves a sizable balance in the Nott account, enough to keep up the estate and for Mr. Nott to live on for quite some time, providing he isn't too extravagant."

"I don't want the estate," Theodore said sullenly.

"Yes, Severus mentioned that to me," Morrigan said calmly. "If you wish, I can help you arrange the sale of the estate and mansion when the time comes. However, as you are underage, the estate and the money in your family account will be held in trust for you until you are eighteen. You cannot sell the estate before then, and in any case, I believe it would be in your best interest to wait a year or two. With the current anti-Death Eater sentiment, you would likely only get a fraction of the full market value if you sold it now. But in a year, or two, or three, things will have died down enough that you should be able to get a better price for it."

Theodore shrugged; it didn't matter much to him, as long as he didn't have to live there. "If that's what you think best, Professor," he said to Snape.

"I believe Ms. De Lacy's advice is sound," Snape replied.

"Well then, if you wish to accept the Ministry's offer--and I believe it is the best one we will receive from them..." She paused, waiting for Snape and Theodore to nod their assent. She flipped through the papers she was holding until she came to the last page and continued, "Then please sign here, Mr. Nott. And Severus, you and Professor Lupin need to sign below as his guardians; since he is under eighteen, your consent is required as well." 

"Please call me Remus," Lupin said with a smile.

"Then you must call me Morrigan," she replied, smiling back at him.

Snape read through the papers carefully before accepting a quill from Morrigan and signing them. Rather than looking offended, she nodded approvingly. "A true Slytherin trusts no one," she said, then added with a laugh, "and certainly not a lawyer!" Lupin chuckled, and Snape made a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh, then handed the papers over to Theodore and Lupin to sign.

"Now, as for Mr. Rosier's petition," Morrigan said, picking up a second, thicker, stack of papers, "the Ministry is willing to cede the Rosier title and lands to Dylan--providing we do not seek further reparations, namely the money that they took from the Rosier account in Gringotts, which has long ago been spent or funneled into various Ministry accounts. The Rosiers were wealthy, and I estimate that there were at least several thousand Galleons in the account, so this bargain might strike you as somewhat unfair, Mr. Rosier. However, if we fight them in court, they will no doubt bring up the crimes that your father committed as a Death Eater, and the fact that you gave the vampiric roses that were used in the prison break to Voldemort, even though you had no choice in the matter. And they will probably argue that your father never married your mother, so therefore you are entitled to no portion of the Rosier inheritance. A specious argument, since there is ample precedent of an illegimate heir inheriting the family title if no legitimate heir exists, and you are the last living Rosier. In our favor is the fact that the Ministry literally stole the estate from an unborn baby, and believe me, I will play that up as much as possible. 

"But I need to warn you that they will drag your name through the mud if this case goes to trial. On the other hand, if you accept their settlement, you get the estate, which remains untouched by the Aurors, since they were never able to bypass the guardian roses. I have never been inside the Rosier mansion, but most of the wealthy pureblood families keep money and items of value hidden on their estates--particularly the Slytherin families. Paranoia is, after all, a Slytherin trait, and most of them keep a secret stash in case of emergencies. I can't guarantee that such a stash exists in your case, but I am almost certain that it does. I doubt it will be anywhere near as much as was confiscated from Gringotts, but it is still likely to be a tidy sum. And you are of course still heir to your great-aunt's estate, so you will not be penniless regardless of what you do or do not find in the Rosier mansion. I would advise you to accept the settlement, but the decision is yours, Mr. Rosier. Would you like to take some time to think it over and discuss it with your guardians?"

"No," Dylan said, after only a moment's hesitation. "I don't care about the money. I am more than capable of earning a living on my own, and as you said, I am still heir to Uncle Math's and Aunt Goewin's estate. The true value of the Rosier estate to me is that it was my father's home." He turned to Snape. "I don't know if I want to live there, but I would like to go back sometime and see my father's room, see if I can find some family potraits or photographs, see if I can get an idea of what my father and grandparents were like. I don't want to risk losing it over a few thousand Galleons."

"As you wish, Dylan," Snape said, laying his hand on his foster son's shoulder for a moment. 

Morrigan handed the papers to Snape. "Then if you'll all sign here, please..."

They signed the papers and handed them back to Morrigan. "Thank you," she said. "I will send them to the Ministry immediately. As soon as I receive the deeds to the estates, and the paperwork confirming Mr. Nott and Mr. Rosier as the heirs to their respective estates, I will forward them to you."

"Thank you, Morrigan," Snape said. "I appreciate everything you've done for us."

Lupin raised his eyebrows at that courteous response, and whispered into his lover's ear, "I may faint with surprise."

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape hissed.

Morrigan politely pretended not to notice. "You're welcome, Severus," she said, extending her hand. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Snape shook her hand, and Lupin and the boys thanked her as well, then they left the office and headed for Diagon Alley.

"She seems quite formidable," Lupin told Snape. "I hope you're paying her well."

"She is, and I am," Snape said smugly. "She's a junior partner in the law firm, but she's the best lawyer they have; I wouldn't be surprised if she were running it in a few years. People tend to underestimate her because she's young and female, but I doubt they'll be doing that for much longer."

"It seems her parents chose well when they named her," Lupin said.

"Goddess of War, indeed," Snape laughed.

"How did you come to choose her as a lawyer, Severus?" Lupin wanted to know. "Have you kept in touch with Morrigan over the years?"

"No, not really," Snape replied. "Though since she was my mentor's niece, I kept tabs on her career over the years. And don't forget that I was a Death Eater, and the pureblood wizards spend most of their time gossiping about each other behind their backs. I heard a few things about an upstart young female lawyer, enough to make me want to hire her."

"A lawyer with ethics," Lupin mused. "How astonishing."

Snape let out a little snort of laughter. "You've been hanging around me too long, Lupin; you're starting to sound as cynical as a Slytherin. Morrigan's ethics are rather flexible, as are those of most Slytherins. I won't say that she would never defend a client she knew was guilty, but she does hate the Death Eaters because of what they did to her uncle. No amount of money could ever persuade her to defend one."

"Is that why she agreed to take our case?" Lupin asked. "Because the boys had also been victimized by the Death Eaters? Or perhaps because of your ties to Professor De Lacy?"

"Both of those reasons, I believe--at least in part," Snape replied. "The other part is her quite substantial fee. I assure you that she didn't grant me any discounts for the sake of sentiment."

"A true Slytherin," Lupin said, and they both laughed. Dylan and Theodore also laughed, but exchanged a solemn glance when their guardians weren't looking. They both knew that they owed Snape a great deal, and that he probably would not accept their money if they tried to pay him back for Morrigan's fee when they received control of their estates. They silently resolved to find some other way to return the favor, someday.

*** 

Meanwhile, Blaise and Allegra were working in their father's shop, as usual. Blaise was arranging some items on a shelf, while Allegra was sitting on a stool in the corner wrapping Spellotape around a broken wand. Just then, the door opened and Percy Weasley and his girlfriend, Penelope, walked in.

"Percy!" Allegra exclaimed happily, setting aside the wand. "Penny!" For some reason that Blaise could not fathom, his sister seemed fond of the priggish Weasley boy, as well as Penelope, who seemed nice enough, although he wasn't sure what she saw in Percy, either. Just as strangely, Percy seemed to have a soft spot for Allegra, treating her with the affectionate if slightly condescending air of an older brother. Since Percy treated his own siblings with the same condescension, Blaise didn't think that he was purposely trying to be insulting, and Allegra never seemed to be offended by it.

"Hello, Allegra," Percy said with a smile, looking more smug than usual.

"Hello, dear," Penelope said. "Are you excited about starting school in the fall?"

"Oh, yes! I can't wait!"

"How nice to see you again, young Mr. Weasley," Marius Zabini said with a slightly forced smile. He still found it galling that the Weasleys had surpassed his family in status, but he couldn't afford to offend a regular customer--and it most definitely would not be wise to offend the son of the new Minster of Magic. "Congratulations on your father's promotion. Are you continuing in your position as assistant to the Minister of Magic?"

"Yes, I am," Percy said proudly. "Dad was worried at first that it would seem like nepotism, but it was pointed out to him that it was Mr. Fudge--God rest his soul--who hired me in the first place, so it's not really nepotism if I keep on in the same position."

"That's wonderful," Marius said, without much sincerity, but fortunately, Percy seemed oblivious. "Well, what can we do for you today, Mr. Weasley?"

"Well," Penelope said coyly, "Percy's apartment is rather sparsely furnished, and I thought we might buy some things to make it look more homey. Second-hand, of course, since we're on a limited budget."

"A man who is about to be married must be fiscally responsible," Percy said in his usual pompous manner.

"Married?" squealed Allegra.

Penelope beamed, looking even more smug than Percy, and held out her left hand; on her ring finger was a small but glittering diamond set in a band of white gold. "Yes, we just got engaged; you're the first one we've told apart from our families."

"Oh Penny, it's beautiful!" Allegra gushed, and Penelope looked gratified. 

"Well, it seems that more congratulations are in order, Mr. Weasley," Marius said.

"Thank you, sir," Percy said, a wide and rather foolish-looking grin spreading across his face.

"Congratulations, Percy," Blaise said politely.

"Thanks, Zabini," Percy said, shaking his hand, still with that silly smile on his face.

"I have something you'll love," Allegra said, taking Penelope by the hand and leading her to a table where a porcelain tea service was displayed. The teapot was shaped like a beehive, and the cups and saucers were decorated with a pattern of fat, comical-looking bumblebees.

"It is quite charming," Penelope agreed. She picked up the teapot to examine it more closely; there was a large crack running across it, and some of the cups were slightly chipped. "But will a Reparo spell be able to restore it?"

"Of course," Allegra said confidently. She took a wand out of her pocket, tapped the teapot with it, and said, "Reparo!" The crack seamlessly sealed itself.

Penelope stared at her in shock. "You can already cast a Reparo spell when you're only just about to enter your first year?!" she exclaimed.

Percy frowned. "Students aren't allowed to perform magic outside of school."

"But Percy," Allegra said innocently, giving him her most charming and guileless smile, "I'm not a student yet."

Percy stared at her for a moment, and to Blaise's complete and utter shock, the former prefect, who had probably been the worst stickler for rules in the entire history of the school, threw back his head and laughed, then said indulgently, "Well, I suppose we can overlook it just this once. But you should be careful, Allegra. Bending the rules can sometimes get you into as much trouble as breaking them can."

"Yes, Percy," Allegra said meekly. "I won't do it again. I just wanted to repair the teapot for Penny."

"It's lovely, dear," Penelope assured her. "We'll make good use of it in our new home." She and Percy beamed at each other. "But you had better let me repair the rest of the set myself." 

Marius and Blaise stood back and watched as Allegra led the couple around the shop, pointing out "bargains" that she thought they could use. In the end, they decided to get the tea service, a set of slightly cracked china plates, some tarnished silverware that could easily be polished with a cleaning spell, and an antique rolltop desk. The desk, though marked down because one leg was wobbly and it needed to be re-varnished, was still a little pricey for Percy's taste. 

"Look," Allegra said, rolling the top back to reveal a number of small drawers and pigeonholes. "It's perfect for organizing documents--just what an assistant to the Minister like yourself needs."

Percy, of course, loved to have everything organized and in its proper place. "It's very nice," he said wistfully, "but the desk I have at home should suffice, even if it is a bit small..."

"It's got a secret compartment," Allegra told him, crawling under the desk to show him the catch that caused a hidden drawer to spring out. "As assistant to the Minister of Magic, you're sure to be handling a lot of important and sensitive documents. This is a perfect place to hide them, and you could lay a concealing spell on it to make it even safer." 

"I'll take it!" Percy exclaimed. Penelope looked amused, but didn't object.

Blaise whispered to his father, "You should let Allegra take over the shop instead of me when you retire, Father."

"She's quite the saleswoman, isn't she?" Marius said proudly. "She could take over right now and do fine, but school comes first."

They were just wrapping up the sale and making arrangements to have the items delivered to Percy's apartment, when the door opened and a very familiar-looking black-robed figure walked through the door.

"Professor Snape!" Blaise said, startled, as his Head of House walked into the store. "Professor Lupin!" he added, as the werewolf followed behind Snape. Blaise felt a sudden surge of hope, and sure enough, Dylan and Theo entered the shop as well. "Theo!" he cried, feeling a grin that must be as silly-looking as Percy's spreading across his face. He tried to get himself under control; he didn't want to make his father suspicious, after all. He managed to tone it down to what he hoped what was a friendly-looking smile and not a lovesick one. "Hi Theo, Dylan, it's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too," Theodore said, relieved by the brief but joyful smile Blaise had greeted him with. _He still loves me,_ he sighed inwardly. It was stupid to have doubted his lover, he supposed, but he had been worried ever since he had received Blaise's letter. Whatever problems there might be with Blaise's parents, at least his feelings for Theodore had not changed.

"Hi Blaise," Dylan said with a grin. He nudged his foster brother in the side with his elbow and whispered, "I told you so."

Allegra bounded up to them and announced, "Hi, I'm Allegra, do you remember me? I met you a couple of times at the Slytherin Quidditch matches. Blaise talks about you all the time." To Dylan, she said, "I saw the game where you beat Gryffindor by knocking the Snitch into your Seeker's hand; that was great! Are you going to become a professional Quidditch player? Could you teach me to play? Blaise says he's no good at Quidditch. Can I try out for the Slytherin team when I'm old enough? Is it true that girls aren't allowed to join the Slytherin team?"

"Take a breath, Allegra," Blaise told his sister. "He can't answer if he can't get a word in edgewise."

"Oh, hello Professor Snape, Professor Lupin," Percy said politely, looking surprised. "I didn't know that you shopped here."

"We were in the neighborhood and we just thought we'd stop by to say hello," Lupin said cheerfully. "Blaise is a friend of Dylan's and Theodore's. How are the two of you doing? Your father's not working you too hard, I hope, Percy."

"It is my duty as well as a privilege to work hard for the sake of the Ministry," Percy said, and Lupin smiled while the Slytherins tried to refrain from rolling their eyes. "But we are both doing very well, thank you, Professor." He and Penelope smiled at each other.

"They're engaged!" Allegra told Lupin, momentarily distracted from her one-sided conversation with Dylan.

"Is that true?" Lupin asked, and Percy nodded, that besotted, fatuous grin appearing on his face again, while Penelope held out her engagement ring for Lupin to admire. "It's beautiful," he told her. "Congratulations; I'm so happy for you two! Isn't that wonderful news, Severus?"

"I couldn't be more thrilled," Snape said sourly.

Lupin shot him a quick glare, then turned back to Percy and asked, "Have you set a date yet?"

"Yes, we're getting married at the end of August so Ginny and Ron can attend before they go back to school," Percy replied. "About a week after Professor Blackmore and Sirius Black are getting married, actually. Of course Mum's running around frantically saying she doesn't know how she's going to help organize two weddings at once, though Professor Blackmore says she doesn't need any help--"

"But of course Mrs. Weasley is determined to offer her help regardless," Penelope said with a hint of dry humor. Snape had a sudden vision of cheerful, idealistic Gryffindor Molly Weasley clashing with the demonic Professor Blackmore over wedding plans, and had to repress a laugh; he almost felt sorry for Black. If the mongrel was smart, he'd lie low and make himself scarce until it was time to present himself at the ceremony.

"Well, you know Mum," Percy chuckled.

"We just want something very small and simple," Penelope said. "Just a few close friends and family."

"Good luck keeping it small and simple," Snape muttered with a hint of real sympathy. Percy was the first of Molly Weasley's brood to wed, and he suspected that she was likely to get carried away and make a big production out of it, and he knew quite well how stubborn a Gryffindor could be when they set their mind on something--and Molly was doubly stubborn where her children were concerned. Not to mention the fact that everyone who wanted to curry favor with the new Minister was likely to be angling for an invitation to his son's wedding.

Percy said they had to be on their way, so they said goodbye and Lupin wished them all the best. Then he turned back to Blaise and asked, "Is this your sister?" The little girl looked much like Blaise, with the same black hair and brown eyes, but while Blaise was usually serious and reserved, she seemed to be outgoing and talkative, practically brimming over with energy and good cheer.

"Yes, sir, this is my sister, Allegra; she'll be entering Hogwarts in the fall. Allegra, this is Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, and my friends Dylan and Theodore."

"Hello, sir," Allegra said to Snape, regarding him with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and trepidation. "I guess you'll be my Head of House when I start school."

"Well, we won't know that for sure until the Sorting Hat places you in a House," Lupin explained gently.

"Daddy says all Zabinis are Slytherins," Allegra told him, and Marius nodded emphatically, looking a little indignant at the suggestion that his daughter might be placed in another House. "And I want to be in the same House as Blaise." Theodore and Blaise exchanged a look; they were the only ones who knew that the Hat had almost placed Blaise in Ravenclaw, until he prevailed upon it to put him in Slytherin so he wouldn't disappoint his parents.

"Well then," Lupin said kindly, "I hope you'll be Sorted into Slytherin. I look forward to teaching you this fall."

"Me too!" Allegra said happily. "Blaise says your class is his favorite!" Blaise turned a little red and gave Snape a nervous look. "Will you teach us about werewolves? You're a werewolf, aren't you? What's it like to change--"

"ALLEGRA!" Blaise and Marius both snapped, looking mortified.

"I apologize, Professor," Marius said a little stiffly; he didn't relish having to apologize to a werewolf, but felt he didn't have much choice, given his daughter's faux pas. "Allegra means no harm, but she has a habit of speaking without thinking."

"A good Slytherin is circumspect at all times," Snape told Allegra sternly.

"What does 'circumspect' mean?" Allegra wanted to know.

"It means to think before you open your mouth, brat," Blaise said, but softened his words by ruffling her hair affectionately.

"It's all right," Lupin assured them. "I'm not offended; most of my students are just as curious about my lycanthropy, but are too afraid to ask. But I think it's much better to talk about it openly and clear up any misconceptions they might have." Marius was stunned into silence, and Lupin turned to Allegra and said, "I'll be happy to tell you all about werewolves in class, but right now Professor Snape and I need to talk to your father."

"Could we please speak privately with you for a moment, Marius?" Snape asked, and despite the uncharacteristic politeness of his words, his tone of voice hinted that this was not really a request.

"I beg your pardon, Professor," Marius said, in that same stiff tone of voice he had used with Lupin, "but I am working right now..."

Snape's patience ran out and he gave up the pretense of being polite. He looked around the shop pointedly and said, "I don't see any customers here at the moment, do you?"

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"Fine," Snape sighed irritably. He plucked an item at random from one of the shelves: an ornate but very ugly brass goblet engraved with a design of snakes coiling around the cup. "How much is this, Zabini?"

"Um, two Galleons, sir," Blaise replied nervously.

Snape slapped two gold coins down on the counter in front of Marius. "There. I'm a paying customer; now will you talk to me?"

"Please, Mr. Zabini," Lupin said in a placating tone, "if we could just have a few minutes of your time..."

Marius sighed, looking almost as irritated as Snape. "Blaise, Allegra, you stay out here and watch the shop." He motioned for the two Professors to follow him into the back room, leaving the three boys alone, but they were all very mindful of Allegra's presence and the curious look on her face.

Dylan tried to distract Allegra and give his friends a chance to talk by saying, "I've never been here before. Could you show me around the shop?" Allegra was more than happy to do so, explaining the origins of the various items in the shop.

She pointed to a very expensive but hideous-looking tapestry made with particularly garish and clashing colors. "That tapestry was a wedding gift to the Bletchleys from Mr. Bletchley's grandmother. They've always hated it, but they couldn't get rid of it while she was alive; the first they did when she died was give it to us. Daddy didn't even have to pay them anything for it; in fact, he says that they probably would have paid HIM to take it off their hands! And those books are from Flourish & Blotts, overstock that they couldn't sell, so they gave them to us dirt-cheap. Gilderoy Lockhart's books have been showing up in the bargain bins ever since people found out he was a fraud, but most of the information in them is still correct; it's just that he stole it from other people..."

"I'm really glad to see you," Blaise said softly to Theo. "I'm sorry that I couldn't come to visit you."

"You could have told me the truth, you know," Theodore told him, just as softly. "About why you couldn't come."

"Oh, was it that obvious?" Blaise asked, looking guilty and a bit sheepish. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings, and I thought maybe I could get my dad to change his mind..."

"Don't you know?" Theodore asked, and Blaise gave him a blank look. "Your father sent a letter to Professor Snape saying that he wants you to have a different roommate next term."

 _"What?!"_ exclaimed Blaise, and Allegra immediately broke off her lecture to stare at him.

"Shh!" Theodore hissed. "Calm down, Snape promised he wouldn't split us up, but he and Lupin wanted to talk to your dad about it."

"I'm so sorry, Theo," Blaise said, looking very upset. "I didn't know, I swear it--"

"It's okay, really--"

"No, it's not okay! I can't believe he did that behind my back!"

"What's going on, Blaise?" Allegra asked, leaving off her tour of the shop to join them. 

"It's nothing, Allegra; go show Dylan around the shop."

"Are you talking about that fight that you and Daddy had?" she persisted. "About not letting you visit your friends because their parents were Death Eaters?"

Blaise sighed and explained, "We had a huge argument at the breakfast table the day your letter came, Theo. He's afraid that hanging around with you and Dylan will affect my social standing, which is pretty dumb, because I don't have any to begin with! He's got it into his head that maybe the Zabinis can rise to prominence again now that the Death Eaters are disbanded, and he doesn't want me to ruin my chances of advancement."

"But you don't feel that way, do you?" Theodore asked anxiously.

"Of course not, you idiot!" Blaise said, sounding hurt and a little angry. "I--" He nearly said, "I love you," and just barely managed to stop himself in time, remembering that Allegra was standing right next to him--and that his father was right in the next room. His expression softened, and he told Theodore quietly, "You're my best friend. Your friendship is more important to me than playing some stupid pureblood politics games."

"I'm sorry," Theodore said, feeling his body go limp with relief; he nearly collapsed on the spot, but managed to keep himself upright somehow. "I shouldn't have doubted you. And I'm sorry that I caused trouble between you and your father."

"It's not your fault, Theo. My father can be very stubborn at times..."

"Don't worry," Allegra told Theodore earnestly. "Daddy will come around." Theodore stared at her in surprise, and she smiled. "I know you must be a good person, because Blaise likes you so much." 

Theodore blushed a little, thinking to himself that he and Blaise would have to be very careful once Allegra started school, especially if she was Sorted into Slytherin. She was obviously inquisitive, observant, and talkative, and he didn't want any gossip about himself and Blaise getting back to her parents...

"And Blaise says you fought against the Death Eaters, so you must be very brave," Allegra continued. "Was it scary? Fighting the Death Eaters, I mean."

"Yes," Theodore said gravely, "it was very scary. I didn't feel very brave at the time."

"But you did what you had to do," Dylan said gently. "I think maybe that's what it means to be brave--to do what you know is right, even though you're afraid."

"I never thought of it that way before," Allegra said thoughtfully; she actually stopped talking for a long moment. "Do you think I can be brave, too?"

"I'm sure you can," Dylan said with a smile. "Your brother was very brave, too, you know."

Allegra smiled proudly at Blaise, then turned back to Dylan and Theodore. "Will you two be my friends, too?" she asked shyly. "And help me with my homework and Quidditch and stuff?"

"Sure," Dylan said with a grin. "We Slytherins have to stick together, right?"

Theodore looked a little startled by the question; he wasn't used to having people seek out his friendship, but he smiled and said, "Of course. You're my best friend's sister, after all."

"Great!" Allegra said happily. "Say, you like Quidditch, don't you?"

"Sure," Theodore replied. "I'm going to try out for the team this fall."

"I want to show you something," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him across the room. "We have a used Quaffle for sale. Of course, it's sort of deflated and the enchantments have worn off, but maybe you could re-enchant it..." Theodore looked a little bemused, but let her drag him across the room, and patiently listened to her sales pitch as Blaise and Dylan followed, laughing.

*** 

Marius led Lupin and Snape through a doorway behind the counter into what appeared to be a storeroom; it was filled with old furniture and boxes of junk still to be sorted through. Marius pulled up three rather rickety chairs, and Snape gingerly took a seat, as if afraid the chair might give way beneath him. Lupin and Marius followed suit, and Marius asked, "Well, what can I do for you, Professor?"

"You can start by explaining this letter," Snape said sourly, holding up the letter Marius had sent him.

"I thought I explained myself quite clearly in the letter, sir," Marius said in that tone of voice that only a Slytherin seemed capable of mastering--one that managed to be perfectly polite and yet subtly insulting at the same time.

"What Severus means to say," Lupin said before Snape could form a reply, "is that we are concerned that you seem to disapprove of Blaise's and Theodore's friendship."

"I didn't say that," Marius said.

"Ah, then you do approve?" Lupin asked pleasantly. "Then you wouldn't mind if Blaise came over for a visit sometime."

"I didn't say that, either," Marius said curtly.

"Then what are you saying, Zabini?" Snape asked impatiently; Marius remained silent. "I'm not in the mood to play word games with you. You've made it clear that you don't want Blaise associating with Theodore. Is it because he's a Death Eater's son? Or is your problem with Lupin and myself?" Silence. "Damn it, Zabini, did you really think I wouldn't see through the feeble excuses you gave in your letter? Do you really think it's wise to insult the Head of Slytherin when your son has only one year left until graduation, and I am responsible for his grades and job recommendations...?"

Marius looked frightened and angry. "Look, Snape, if you have a problem with me, don't take it out on my son!"

"Then don't take out your prejudice on _my_ son!" Snape retorted.

"Stop it, Severus!" Lupin snapped, angry with his lover for threatening Marius with Blaise's future, even though he knew that Severus would never follow through on that threat. But at the same time his heart filled with joy at that unconscious slip of the tongue that had betrayed the Potions Master's true feelings: he had not said "Mr. Nott" or "Theodore" or even "my foster son," but simply "my son". Severus had just admitted to himself--though perhaps he didn't fully realize it yet--that he loved Theodore as much as if he had been his real son. Severus was already close to Dylan, of course, but since Theodore had only very recently come to trust him, they were still working on building a relationship, with all the awkwardness and hesitation and missteps that came along with having grown up in families that had offered little warmth or stability. They still had a long way to go, of course, but Lupin felt that he and Severus and the boys were now truly a family.

Snape stared at Lupin, bewildered, as the werewolf first glared at him, then smiled at him tenderly. Lupin didn't bother to enlighten him, but turned to Marius and said, "Severus is bluffing; he would never do such a thing to Blaise."

Snape scowled. "You're not helping, Lupin."

"Neither are you!" Lupin said. "I thought we agreed to try and work this out in a civilized manner before bringing out the threats and insults."

Marius looked skeptical but curious. "Why are you so sure he's only bluffing? Everyone knows how Professor Snape favors certain students in his House..."

Lupin smiled. "The same 'everyone' who swore that Severus was a Death Eater and Lucius Malfoy's lapdog?" he asked gently. "Things are not always what they seem, Mr. Zabini. I know Severus, and I know that he would never ruin Blaise's future out of petty spite. He did what he had to do to keep up his Death Eater cover, but he cares about his students very much." Snape flushed, looking embarrassed, much to Marius's surprise. "He worked very hard to protect them."

"Not hard enough, apparently," Marius snapped. "My son had a Memory Charm cast on him by the Death Eaters, and he got dragged into the final battle. I blame you and the Nott boy for getting him entangled with the Death Eaters, Snape!"

Snape looked both angry and guilty, but again, before he could reply, Lupin spoke. "Please don't blame Severus and Theodore," he said softly. "Severus fought very hard to protect the children from both sides: to ensure that the Order of the Phoenix did not sacrifice the Slytherin children's safety to expediency in the name of winning the war, and he put himself at risk to divert the Death Eaters' attention away from the children in order to protect some of them from their own parents. Theodore is one of them. He was never a Death Eater, nor ever wanted to be one."

"But he hung around with Malfoy's son and the others; I saw how they swaggered around the school..."

"Theodore was only trying to protect himself," Lupin said, still in that quiet voice. "He was terrified of his father. Did you know Thaddeus Nott, Mr. Zabini?"

"Yes, I went to school with him," Marius replied reluctantly.

"Then you know he was a sadist," Lupin said. "He didn't treat his son with any more kindness than he showed his other victims."

"But--"

"It is true that Theo did not stand up against his father and the Death Eaters until the very end," Lupin interrupted. "But how many people had the courage to do even that much? How many failed to act against Voldemort out of fear?" 

Marius flushed with shame, picking up on the unspoken implication of Lupin's words: that he was one of those very same people; he had stood by and done nothing, hoping that the war would resolve itself without his help. "I--"

"And Theodore did try to protect Blaise," Lupin continued in a gentle, but firm voice. "In fact, he saved Blaise's life in Hogsmeade."

"What?" Marius asked, his eyes going wide.

"How much did Blaise tell you about his Halloween encounter with the Death Eaters?"

"Very little," Marius replied. "He doesn't remember anything about it; he only knows what Nott told him, that he stumbled across the Death Eaters when they were meeting their sons and that they took away his memory of it."

"Lucius Malfoy and Thaddeus Nott wanted to kill your son," Snape told him. "Theodore persuaded them not to, told them that it would arouse too much suspicion if a student disappeared so soon after the prison break. He implied that Blaise was a Death Eater sympathizer to save his life, which was what led Draco Malfoy to take him along to the final battle. I regret that he got involved in the battle, but you should blame me for that, not Theodore; I should have been keeping a closer eye on Draco."

"Is that really true?" a stunned Marius asked. 

"I will swear it under Truth Serum if that's what it takes to convince you," Snape said impatiently, "but honestly, Zabini, do you really think that the Death Eaters are inclined to be merciful? They normally kill interlopers, not Obliviate them."

"Severus," Lupin said in a warning tone of voice.

"Thaddeus punished his son for arguing with him," Snape informed Marius coldly, ignoring Lupin. "He used a Branding Hex on Theodore, burned his handprint into the boy's wrist." Marius winced. "From what I can gather, it wasn't the first time he hexed his son, nor was it the worst hex he ever used. And despite all his fear of his father and the Death Eaters, he still took the risk of asking me to help him protect Blaise."

"Why didn't he ever tell Blaise all this?" Marius whispered, feeling very shaken by the realization that his son had come even closer to death than he had originally thought.

"Before the battle, to protect him," Snape replied. "The whole point of the Memory Charm, and the conditions for sparing his life, after all, were that he would remember nothing of the incident and be unable to leak information about the Death Eaters. If he'd given any indication that he'd regained his memory or otherwise learned of what happened, they would have tried to have him eliminated. And after the battle...I don't know. Perhaps he didn't want to scare Blaise, perhaps he was preoccupied with other matters...he did suffer quite a traumatic experience on the battlefield; his father tried to hand him over to the Dark Lord as a sacrifice, and then both his parents were killed."

"Please," Lupin said gently, "can't you forgive Theodore? He was only a child, frightened and alone, not knowing who to trust, but he still did his best to protect his friend. Won't you let the boys continue their friendship?"

"It's not just that," Marius said, looking a little shamefaced. "I have to think of my son's future. I believe you when you say that the Nott boy isn't a Death Eater, but sometimes appearances count for more than reality..."

"I don't understand," Lupin said, although he had a sinking feeling that he did.

"I do," Snape snarled. "He thinks his son will be tainted by associating with a Death Eater's son."

"The Nott boy--" Marius started to say.

"Stop calling him 'the Nott boy'!" Snape snapped. "He has a name!"

"Theodore and Dylan come from old, wealthy families," Marius said defensively. "They have enough money to secure their futures even if they are scorned for their fathers' crimes. But Blaise has nothing; he has to make his own way in the world." Marius laughed bitterly. "How ironic. My family lost our wealth and influence because we refused to ally with the Death Eaters, and now I fear that my son's chances for advancement will be ruined if people believe he is a Death Eater sympathizer."

"Perhaps you should not set so much store on 'advancement,'" Lupin said. "Those who claw their way up the social ladder can just as easily be cast down--as the Malfoys discovered. But true friendship is a rare and valuable commodity, one more important than fair-weather friends and allies who will abandon you when you have nothing more to offer them. Look." He motioned to the open doorway, and Marius peered through it.

He saw his daughter chattering away with Blaise's friends, and saw Theodore smile down at her kindly; a far cry from the sullen boy he remembered seeing in the Slytherin stands at the Quidditch matches. He saw Allegra take the startled boy by the hand and lead him across the room, and saw him examine a battered Quaffle as Allegra launched into what Marius recognized as a sales pitch. Theodore smiled, listening patiently as Allegra spoke with enthusiasm, then Dylan and Blaise came over and the four of them started laughing and talking together.

"Dylan, Theodore, Blaise, and their other friend Damien have all been loyal friends to each other these past few years," Lupin said. "They all fought to protect each other during the battle. It would be a shame to break up such a friendship. Actually, I know that Blaise wouldn't abandon his friends so easily, but neither would he want to defy his family. Please don't force him to make such a choice."

Marius sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking very weary. "I only want what's best for my son. I want him to have a future--a future that includes something besides running a junk shop."

"If you're worried about his future, I can help," Snape offered, sounding much calmer and a little more sympathetic. "I may not be as influential as Lucius Malfoy was, but I am respected in the academic community, believe it or not. I could recommend him for a teaching or research position, if he's interested. I think he would be well-suited to such a career."

"And if you are still concerned about advancement and influential friends," Lupin said lightly, "you need look no further. The new Minister of Magic happens to be a very good friend of mine."

Snape smiled sardonically at the stunned look on Marius Zabini's face. "Things have changed, you know, Zabini. The werewolf is no longer an outcast; he is a hero of the war. And Arthur Weasley is an idealistic Gryffindor; he helped start the Wolfsbane Potion distribution program, and he pushed through the bill granting non-humans equal rights. The old rules no longer apply; if you're going to suck up to someone, Zabini, you want to make sure you're sucking up to the right people..."

"SEVERUS!"

Snape just laughed at the outraged look on Lupin's face. "The werewolf may be a soft touch," he continued almost cheerfully, "but I assure you that you don't want to get on his bad side. And you should never try to come between a wolf and its cubs."

Lupin glared at his lover and said in an icy voice, "Please don't speak for me, Severus." Then he turned to Marius and said, "You must forgive Severus; I fear he's spent too much time with the Death Eaters. He seems to be unable to get his point across without resorting to threats." He shot another glare at Snape, who looked almost amused.

"Don't blame it on the Death Eaters, Lupin; it's just my natural winning personality," Snape quipped. The corners of Lupin's mouth twitched for a moment, and he almost smiled before rearranging his features back into a stern expression. 

_Not bad for a Gryffindor,_ Snape thought. _He almost looked intimidating for a moment there, but he's still got a long way to go before he can equal a Slytherin._ Meanwhile, Marius, who was not used to the lovers' banter and playful arguments, just sat there with his mouth hanging open.

"Blaise is our student," Lupin said in a gentler voice. "And he's our son's best friend. Of course we would do whatever we could to help him, whether you asked us to or not." He gave Snape one last glare. "No sucking up required."

"What can I say?" Snape said, heaving an exaggerated sigh of resignation. "The werewolf is an idealist."

Marius thought things over; he didn't really like the idea of being indebted to the werewolf and the Potions Master, but if what they said was true, he couldn't afford to offend them, either. He hadn't been aware that Arthur Weasley was friends with Remus Lupin, but he didn't think that the werewolf was lying; the Daily Prophet had revealed that they were both--along with Snape--members of the Order of the Phoenix, and one of the first things Weasley had done when he assumed his post as Minister was to acknowledge the role that the non-humans, particularly the werewolves, had played in the battle against the Death Eaters, and pressure the Ministry into passing the equal rights bill. Lupin could prove to be a valuable ally--or a dangerous enemy.

Marius glanced through the doorway again, and saw Blaise still laughing with his friends. He knew that Blaise had been miserable after he forbade him to visit Dylan and Theodore, and he felt a pang of guilt, then a faint sense of ironic humor as he wondered how he had managed to raise such an idealistic child. Well, it ran in the family, he supposed...Marius's father had been opposed to the Death Eaters on moral grounds. 

When he was old enough to grasp the concept of pureblood politics, Marius had quickly realized that crossing the Malfoys and their allies was a bad idea, but as a dutiful son, he had followed his father's wishes. Besides, he hadn't trusted any of the Malfoys, but especially Lucius, who was just as likely to stab his friends in the back as he was to help them. And, quite frankly, he hadn't had the stomach for killing and torturing Muggles and Mudbloods; neither had he had the courage to fight against the Death Eaters. He felt ashamed to realize that the course of his life had not been determined by ambition or idealism, but by cowardice and apathy. His son had proved far braver than his father...

As if reading his mind, Lupin smiled and said softly, "You have raised a brave, intelligent, and compassionate son, Mr. Zabini. He is almost an adult; you should trust in yourself, that you have raised him properly, and trust in Blaise to make his own decisions and choose the right path for himself."

Marius sighed and gave in to the inevitable. "Then I will trust in you to look after Blaise, Professors. And I most humbly apologize for any offense I have given."

"You don't need to apologize," Lupin said, although Snape looked as though he disagreed. "I understand that it was not malice, but love for your son that motivated you. We all want what is best for our children. Now that I am a foster father myself, I can understand a little better all the anxiety and worry that the parents of our students go through." He smiled tenderly at Snape, who flushed. 

Marius shook his head slightly, wondering what on earth had drawn that pair together; he couldn't imagine two people who were less alike or more ill-suited for each other. _Opposites attract, I suppose._

"Then it's all right if Blaise comes over for a visit?" Lupin asked cheerfully.

"Of course," Marius said, trying to sound gracious. If he didn't quite succeed, the two Professors pretended not to notice.

"Thank you very much," said Lupin. "Theodore and Dylan will be so happy."

Well, he had given Lupin and Snape what they wanted; maybe he was pushing his luck, but Marius decided to test the sincerity of their pledge to help Blaise. "My son respects the two of you," he said, "and he still seems undecided about his career plans. Perhaps you could provide him with a little guidance."

"I'll speak to him," Snape said, settling back into his role as Head of House. "Mr. Zabini is a talented student, and he has a number of options open to him..."

"He has a Healing Gift, which is quite rare, and it would be a shame to waste it," Marius said. "My wife and I were hoping that he might consider becoming a mediwizard."

"I will of course do my best to help him achieve that goal...providing that is what he wants," Snape said, with a knowing little smirk that clearly said he suspected that was more the elder Zabinis' wish than Blaise's. "He strikes me as having more of a scholarly bent...but of course it is ultimately his decision. Mr. Zabini did sign up for both Advanced Potions and Herbology next term, so he is taking the proper prerequisite courses required for a mediwizard, if he decides to choose that profession."

Marius nodded, looking somewhat mollified, if not completely satisfied. He supposed that Lupin was right; Blaise was nearly an adult, and he would make his own decisions whether Marius liked them or not. Blaise was usually quiet and obedient, rarely causing his parents any trouble--it was Allegra who tended to get into mischief--but he could be quite stubborn when he set his mind on something. It was a Zabini family trait, after all; in some ways, Blaise took more after his grandfather than he did Marius, with his tenacious insistence on adhering to his ideals. "Thank you, Professor," Marius said in a resigned voice, then rose from his seat and headed back to the front room; Lupin and Snape followed. 

Blaise looked up at his father anxiously; so did Theodore, who was still holding the deflated Quaffle. "Professor Lupin and Professor Snape have kindly invited you to visit during the summer," he said, as if the whole argument over the matter had never happened, and Snape hid a smile at this typical Slytherin tactic of denial. "You may go, but be sure to be on your best behavior."

"Yes, Father!" Blaise said, his face lighting up. "Thank you, Father!"

"Thank you, sir," Theodore said quietly, giving Blaise's father a small, hesitant smile, and Marius felt a little better about his decision. Perhaps he had misjudged the Nott boy; surely Blaise would not have felt such loyalty towards him if he had been a sadistic bully like Thaddeus.

"Perhaps this Saturday?" Lupin suggested. "You could come over for dinner; that way you could still help your father in the shop during the day."

"He can have the day off," Marius said gruffly. "Allegra and I can manage alone; right, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Allegra said proudly. "Oh, and I sold Theodore the Quaffle while you were talking to the Professors."

Theodore smiled sheepishly as Snape raised an eyebrow at the rather pathetic-looking Quaffle in his hand. "Well, it was only a few Sickles...do you think we can re-enchant it?"

"Probably," Lupin said. "I don't know the proper spells for it, but I could ask Madam Hooch."

"They should look it up themselves," Snape suggested. "It would be good practice for them to research and perform the spells on their own."

"Not everything has to be a lesson, Severus."

"Everything in life is a lesson, Lupin," Snape declared, in the haughty, didactic tone he tended to use with his students.

"Why, that's rather profound of you, Severus," Lupin said with an amused smile. "Well, then, we'll be expecting you on Saturday, Blaise." He hesitated, then said to Marius, "We were just on our way to have lunch; perhaps Blaise could come with us if you could spare him for an hour or so?"

It appeared to be a polite request and not a veiled command, but there was no point in antagonizing him, and Marius had already given his consent for Blaise to continue seeing his friends. Besides, Blaise had been working hard in the shop ever since school had let out, and he was staring at his father hopefully right now. "Yes, I suppose so," he sighed.

"Thank you, Father!"

Allegra was looking wistful, so Lupin added, "Perhaps Allegra would like to come too, if you can spare her as well."

"Please, Daddy?" she begged.

"Very well," Marius said, despite his misgivings. "But mind your manners. That means listening to your brother and the Professors, and don't bother them with a lot of rude questions, understand?"

"Yes, Father," Allegra said meekly; Marius gave her a skeptical look. Well, he supposed the infamous Potions Master ought to be capable of keeping one rambunctious little girl under control.

As they were about to leave, Marius called out, "Don't forget your goblet, Professor!"

"What are you going to do with that, Severus?" Lupin asked curiously as they left the shop.

Snape handed the ugly brass goblet to Lupin. "Here, you can use it for the Wolfsbane Potion."

"It looks as horrid as the potion tastes, so I suppose it's appropriate," Lupin laughed.

*** 

They headed to the Sakura, the Japanese restaurant that served as a secret portal between the wizarding communities of England and Japan. The hostess, Haruko, directed them to a private room where they seated themselves on the floor around a low table.

"How nice to see you again, Professors," Haruko said with a pleasant smile. "Are these your new foster children? I had thought there were only two..."

Lupin laughed and introduced her to the children. "Blaise and Allegra are friends of our sons," he explained. Theodore and Dylan looked surprised but pleased to hear Lupin refer to them simply as his "sons". As Haruko served them some tea, Lupin inquired as to how Chizuru and Karasu were doing.

"Quite well," Haruko replied. "Their clans have consented to their marriage." 

"Really?" Snape asked. "Satoshi seemed to think that their families would be opposed to it."

"Oh, they were," Haruko said. "But it appears to be foreordained; Miyako had a vision of their wedding and a long and prosperous alliance between their peoples resulting from this union. The tengu and the crane clans still aren't very happy about it, but Miyako's powers have grown very strong ever since the visions she had about the final battle, and everyone respects her as a Seer now."

Snape shook his head a little, glad that he was free of that world of highborn politics, where marriages were not merely a union between two people, but carefully negotiated alliances based on money and power.

Their meal came, and Allegra was so enchanted with novelty of the entire experience--sitting on the floor, using chopsticks, eating exotic food--that she forgot to ask prying questions about werewolves and fighting the Death Eaters, much to Snape's relief. She did however, seem to chatter endlessly, which he found slightly annoying. He hoped that it was just excitement at the thought of starting school and being allowed on an excursion with her brother and his friends rather than her normal temperament, but he suspected it was the latter.

"Miss Zabini," he said in a lecturing tone that the boys recognized as his classroom voice, "a good Slytherin must learn to be subtle and discreet."

Allegra was attempting to lift a piece of fish to her mouth with her chopsticks, but it fell into her lap. She giggled, then picked it up with her fingers and stuffed it into her mouth; Snape sighed. "What do you mean, Professor?"

"I mean," Snape said with an air of patience being sorely tested, "that you should think before you speak, and not just say the first thing that comes to mind."

"You mean I talk too much?" she asked brightly, apparently unoffended. "Mummy says that, too, sometimes."

Snape sighed again. "That is partly what I mean. But I also meant that you can learn more by simply observing people rather than bombarding them with questions. Especially since people don't always answer those questions truthfully."

Allegra looked thoughtful, and nodded solemnly. "That makes sense, Professor. I'll try to do that." Snape felt rather pleased with himself, until a moment later she smiled at him cheerfully and said, "I don't think you're as scary as Blaise says you are."

"ALLEGRA!" Blaise snapped, looking horrified. Theodore stared at her in disbelief, Dylan snickered a little, and Lupin threw back his head and laughed out loud. Snape just sighed and rubbed his temples, and made a mental note to brew a good supply of headache tonic for the coming school year, because it was shaping up to be a very trying one. What was the world coming to, when the Gryffindor golden boy Harry Potter was embracing his Slytherin side and the Slytherins were acting as idealistic and naive as Gryffindors...?

After lunch, they stopped by Slug & Jiggers to pick up some aconite and other ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion, then--at Lupin's and Dylan's insistence--they headed to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes as Snape grumbled under his breath.

Fred and George looked up in surprise as Snape and Lupin and their students walked in.

"Wow, I've always wanted to come here!" Allegra said, looking around the shop eagerly. Snape rubbed his temples, a pained and irritated look on his face.

Lupin just chuckled. "Hello Fred, George. You already know Dylan, and I believe you know Blaise and Theodore as well. This is Allegra, Blaise's sister, who will be entering Hogwarts this year. Allegra, meet Fred and George Weasley, the proprietors of this shop."

"Hi!" she said happily. "You're Percy's brothers, right?"

"You know Percy?" Fred asked, looking even more astonished.

"Sure, he and Penny come to our shop all the time."

"My father owns the junk shop down the street," Blaise explained.

"It's not a junk shop!" Allegra said indignantly. "It's full of--"

"Undiscovered treasures that just need a little fixing up, yes, I know," Blaise said in a patient, placating tone. "Come on, let's look around the shop." 

She still looked a little sulky, so Theodore said, "Come on, I'll buy you a Canary Cream."

"Really?" she said, her bad mood forgotten. "Thanks!" She skipped off to look around the shop, and Blaise smiled gratefully at Theodore, who smiled back. The two Slytherin boys followed after Allegra, looking around the store with interest. They had never been there before for fear of offending Draco by patronizing a Gryffindor-run business.

"Listen," Fred said to Dylan, looking a little uncomfortable. "I never got a chance to thank you for saving me from those roses during the battle..."

"It's okay," Dylan said, looking a little embarrassed himself. "I feel sort of responsible; I mean, it was me who gave the roses to the Dark...to Voldemort in the first place."

"It's not your fault, Dylan," Snape said firmly, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder.

George and Fred stared wide-eyed at even this small display of affection by the ill-tempered Potions Master. "Well, anyway...thanks," Fred said, holding out his hand. Dylan shook it, and George slapped him on the back in a friendly way and said, "You're all right for a Slytherin, Rosier!"

Snape looked annoyed, but Dylan just grinned and said, "Well, you're not so bad for Gryffindors," and all three boys laughed.

"So I hear Percy is getting married," Lupin said, and the twins rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, I can't believe Percy actually found someone willing to marry him!" Fred said.

"Penelope's a nice girl, but she has no taste," added his brother.

"That's not very nice," Lupin scolded.

"Yeah, but Percy is...well, Percy," Fred said, as if that explained everything. "Still, he is our brother, I suppose."

"Percy can be a little...well..." Lupin paused, looking for a tactful word.

"Priggish?" Snape suggested helpfully. "Pompous? Arrogant?" Fred and George privately agreed with him, but they still glared at their former teacher.

"But he's still as brave as any Gryffindor," Lupin continued in a firm voice. "He did fight off an Imperius Curse in order to set off the firecracker that alerted us to the Death Eaters' location."

"Yeah, you're right, Professor," George admitted. "Old Percy's all right, I guess."

Theodore bought Allegra a Canary Cream as promised. She bit into it, turned into a giant canary, then laughed delightedly as she molted and resumed her normal form a few moments later.

Snape sighed and shook his head; Lupin came over and slipped his arm around Snape's waist, and leaned against him affectionately. "Even Slytherin children like to have fun sometimes, Sev. Don't be a spoilsport."

The Weasley brothers' eyes bugged out and Snape's face turned bright red. "Lupin, will you cut that out?! I told you not to maul me in public!"

"I'm not mauling you," Lupin said, feigning a look of wounded innocence.

"I don't care what you call it, cut that out!"

Snape fumed and blustered, but the three Slytherin boys noticed with amusement that he did not try to push the werewolf away. Being good Slytherins, though, they wisely kept that observation to themselves.

"Your teachers are funny, Blaise," Allegra giggled. "I can't wait to take classes from them!"

"Can't wait...to take classes from Snape?" Fred asked weakly.

"That's a first," muttered George.

Blaise regarded his sister with a look of weary concern. "I'm not sure she's going to survive seven years in Slytherin House," he sighed. "There are Wit-Sharpening Potions and Strengthening Solutions...I wonder if there's such a thing as a Potion of Common Sense?"

Dylan laughed. "If he hasn't killed Potter and Weasley after all these years, he's not going to kill Allegra. But I'm afraid his hair might turn gray before those seven years are up!"

Lupin finally let go of Snape, who snapped, "Well, come along! I have to get the werewolf home and brew him a sedative before he humiliates me any further."

Before they left, Fred gave Dylan boxes of Canary Creams and fireworks as thanks for saving him from the roses. When they returned to the Zabinis' shop, Dylan gave most of them to Allegra, who exclaimed, "Thank you!" She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek before she blushed and fled into the shop.

Blaise threw his arm around his friend's shoulder and said in a voice that was only half-joking, "If you break my sister's heart, Rosier, I'll kill you."

"I didn't do anything!" Dylan protested.

"Dylan can't help it if he's irresistible to women," Theo said with a grin. Secretly he was a little relieved to see that Allegra was interested in boys because it meant that hopefully she would marry and provide her parents with an heir someday, which hopefully meant that they might then accept--or at least tolerate--Blaise's and Theodore's relationship. Then he silently scolded himself for thinking too far ahead and plotting like a typical pureblood--scheming to marry off an eleven-year old girl, for Merlin's sake! He and Blaise could see each other again, and that was enough for now. They could worry about the rest later; after all, they still had another year of school to get through...

*** 

So Blaise joined Damien and Draco for a weekend visit. Snape had them work on some practice exams as he had promised (or threatened, depending on your point of view) the week before. Damien grumbled a little under his breath, but no one else really minded: Dylan enjoyed studying most of the time, Draco was relieved that he wasn't a complete social outcast anymore, and Theodore and Blaise were just happy to be in each other's presence again.

After completing the exams, they had lunch, then headed outdoors for some Quidditch practice. Blaise mostly watched, since as he had told his sister, he wasn't much good at it himself. When they landed to take a break, Blaise told them, "You guys looked great! I'm sure we'll beat Gryffindor next year."

"Yes, Nott will make a good addition to the team," Draco said, with just a hint of his old condescension. It seemed to be an unconscious slip, and Theodore was in a good mood, so he decided to let it slide. "It's a pity Crabbe and Goyle can't practice with us, too," Draco continued, frowning as he remembered that their mothers had forbidden them to hang out with him.

"Well, the Gryffindors aren't practicing at all," Dylan pointed out, "so we'll still have an edge on them."

"We'll need a new Keeper, since Bletchley's graduated," Damien said. "Got anyone in mind, Draco?"

"Not really. Doherty wants to try out for the team; he's not as incompetent as Weasley, but..."

The other boys seemed preoccupied with discussing prospective team members, so Theodore said to Blaise casually, "You must have been bored, just sitting there watching us. Want to go for a walk or something?"

"Sure," Blaise replied, just as casually.

"I'm too tired to move," Dylan said with an exaggerated groan, leaning against a tree. "You guys go ahead; we'll be waiting here." Damien grinned and winked at them. Draco smirked a little and Theodore bristled, but Draco managed to refrain from making any smart-alecky remarks, and just turned back to the other boys and continued suggesting possible Keepers.

"Well, Baddock has some potential..."

Theodore and Blaise walked off into the woods together. "There's nothing dangerous in these woods, is there?" Blaise asked a little nervously.

"It's not the Forbidden Forest," Theodore assured him. "We go walking through the woods all the time with Lupin. He wouldn't let us come out here if it wasn't safe." He grinned and added, "Dylan and I go for long walks by ourselves when Snape and Lupin...uh...want to be alone." Blaise laughed, then reached out and slipped his hand into Theodore's, smiling at him almost shyly.

Theodore looked up, startled, and blushed a little. It was silly to be blushing at the thought of holding hands, he supposed, considering that they were already lovers, but it was a new experience for him. It wasn't like they could walk around holding hands at Hogwarts, after all. But they were all alone out here, and it did feel nice...he interlaced his fingers through Blaise's, giving his hand a little squeeze. "I missed you," he said softly.

"I missed you, too, Theo. I'm sorry about what my dad did."

"You don't have to apologize. In fact--" Suddenly Theodore remembered all the things he had wanted to tell Blaise that he hadn't put into his letter. "--I'm the one who should apologize."

Blaise gave him a puzzled look. "Why?"

Theodore stopped walking and turned to face Blaise, still holding his hand. He had gone over this a thousand times in his mind, but now that he was actually face-to-face with his lover, he found himself tongue-tied. "It's just...I...I know that I haven't been very nice to you this past year," he said haltingly. "I yelled at you for asking questions about my family and the Death Eaters, I pushed you away when you were only trying to help me--"

"It's okay, Theo," Blaise said gently, reaching up to stroke his cheek with his free hand. "I understand why you did it."

"You do?"

"Of course. You were trying to protect me, weren't you? You didn't want me getting involved with the Death Eaters."

"Yes," Theodore said, feeling relieved. "You're not mad at me, then?"

"Of course not, you silly git!" Blaise said, throwing his arms around Theodore. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Theodore whispered, holding Blaise tightly. "I'm so sorry about what happened in Hogsmeade, I was so scared..."

"It's my own fault for following you," Blaise said. "But I was afraid Malfoy was going to get you into trouble."

"If anything had happened to you, I'd never have forgiven myself!"

Blaise pulled back a little so that he could look into Theodore's eyes. "It's thanks to you that I'm alive, Theo." Theodore looked startled. "Snape told my father what really happened, that you stopped the Death Eaters from killing me."

"It was my fault that you were there in the first place--"

"No, I told you it was my fault."

"But--"

"If we're going to blame someone, let's blame the Death Eaters," Blaise suggested. "Everything turned out all right in the end. I'm alive, thanks to you. Let's leave it at that."

"My father had already killed one person I cared about," Theodore said in a shaky voice, his eyes filling with tears. "I couldn't let him do it again. I...I'd die if I lost you, Blaise."

"I'm all right, Theo," Blaise said tenderly, pulling his lover close as he began to tremble and the tears spilled out of his eyes. "I'm fine; everything's all right." He kissed away Theodore's tears, trailing light kisses down his cheek until his mouth brushed across Theodore's.

Theodore deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between Blaise's lips, tasting the salt of his own tears in his lover's mouth. Blaise let out a muffled groan and returned the kiss hungrily, both of them suddenly aware of how long it had been since they had been alone together.

After a long moment, they pulled apart, gasping for breath. "God, I've missed you!" Blaise exclaimed.

"I've missed you, too," Theodore said in a husky voice, and kissed him again, fumbling with the fastenings of his robes.

"Theodore!" Blaise protested, laughing nervously. "Just how secluded are these woods, anyway? Are you sure no one will come by?"

"Very secluded," Theodore assured him, kissing his neck and undoing another fastening. "The nearest village is miles away. No one ever comes here but us, and Dylan and the others know we want to be alone."

"Are you sure the Professors won't get a sudden urge to walk in the woods? I'm having visions of Snape blasting apart rose bushes at the Yule Ball..."

Theodore grinned. "Since they have the house all to themselves, they're probably doing the same thing we're doing, only in the comfort of their own bed...although I try not to think about it too much."

"Well, if you're sure we won't be disturbed..." Blaise said, his tone of voice indicating that he was still hesitant but willing to be persuaded.

Theodore took off his own robe and spread it out on the ground like a blanket. "I'm absolutely..." He pulled Blaise down to the ground with him. "...positively..." He kissed Blaise. "...sure." Then he couldn't say anything more because Blaise was kissing him back, all his hesitation apparently gone...

Later, as they were heading back towards the cottage, Blaise rubbed the small of his back and winced, saying, "I think I was lying on a rock or something."

"Sorry," Theodore said, kissing him on the cheek apologetically.

"Well, I guess I was too preoccupied to notice at the time," Blaise laughed.

They made their way back to the clearing near the cottage where their friends were waiting.

"Have a nice walk?" Dylan asked innocently.

The two boys couldn't help blushing a little. "Very nice," Theodore said archly.

"You have grass in your hair," Damien told Blaise, then laughed at the expression of dismay on his friend's face as he hastily ran his fingers through his hair. "Just kidding! But now we know what you two were up to out there!"

"I'd think that was obvious, Pierce," Draco said, looking amused.

Theodore and Blaise turned even redder. "Watch it, Pierce, or you'll be coughing up slugs," Theodore threatened, but he didn't really look angry.

Draco cackled gleefully, remembering the time Ron Weasley had attempted to cast that same curse at him, but it had backfired due to Weasley's damaged wand. "Do you remember the time that Weasley's Slug Curse backfired on him?" he asked nostalgically. "It's just too bad that Potter didn't get hit with it as well."

"I don't remember that," Dylan said.

"It was during our second year, before you started at Hogwarts," Theodore explained. "All Weasley's spells were misfiring because his wand was broken. Although even after he got a new wand he still messed up that curse he cast at you, Draco, when Bane got turned into a bunny. So maybe it's just Weasley, and not the wand."

Draco scowled a little at the reminder of the bunny-hex incident as the other boys all laughed. But their laughter seemed good-natured and not malicious, so he smiled ruefully and said, "Bane still gives me the evil eye whenever Mum and I go over to Sirius Black's house."

"At least you don't have to live with Bane, like Potter does," Damien pointed out.

"That's true," Draco said, cheering up considerably.

Lupin emerged from the cottage, looking quite smug and just a little flushed. "How's the Quidditch practice going, boys?" he asked.

"Fine, Prof...um...Remus," Dylan said. "We were just taking a break."

"Yeah, Theo and Blaise decided to go for a walk in the woods," Damien said brightly, then exclaimed, "Ow! What was that for?" as Theodore kicked him in the shin.

Lupin's eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief for just a second, then he smiled and said pleasantly, "Yes, Theo and Dylan and I often walk through the woods together. I find it quite relaxing myself."

"Yes, it was very...uh...relaxing," Blaise said, doing his best to keep from blushing.

"Were you going to practice some more, or are you ready to come in?" Lupin asked. "I have some cold butterbeer on hand if you're ready for a break."

That sounded like a good idea to the boys, so they came in for a cold drink and a snack. "Where's Professor Snape?" Draco asked, looking around curiously.

"Oh, Severus is in our room resting," Lupin replied. "He was feeling a bit...tired." His smile grew even more smug than before, until he was grinning like a Cheshire Cat and looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Oh," Draco said, and dropped the subject. Although he had scoffed at Potter for doing the same thing, Draco blushed a little. It just wasn't natural to see Lupin looking so...well...lascivious.

Snape eventually emerged from his room, but not for long. The boys had started a game of Exploding Snap, and it was a toss-up as to which was noisier--the exploding cards or the boys' laughter. "Might as well be back in school," he grumbled as he retreated back into the bedroom and closed the door.

Damien, Blaise, and Draco looked up anxiously, but Lupin just laughed and winked at them. "Oh, don't mind Severus. He's just keeping up his old Potions Master act so that you won't see what a softie he is."

"Snape," Damien said, staring at Lupin with a look of disbelief. "A softie."

"He is, you know," Lupin said cheerfully. "But don't tell him I said so."

"Don't worry, Professor," Draco said. "Your secret is safe with us." As if he would ever say such a thing to Snape! Draco didn't fancy spending the rest of his life as a toad or a slug. Then the five boys stared at each other thoughtfully, remembering that Snape had once let it slip that he fed treats to Bane, that he and Lupin had shown up at the Slytherin dorm the night after the battle to comfort their students and bring them hot cocoa, that he had let Lupin kiss him at the head table, and most importantly, that he had essentially adopted two orphaned Slytherins. "Softie" was still a bit of stretch, Draco thought, but perhaps not quite as a big a stretch as he had first thought. Still, it would probably be wise to keep that realization to himself. The other boys seemed to agree, because they said nothing and started another game.

"Deal me in this round?" Lupin asked, joining them on the living room floor.

From the bedroom, Snape could soon hear Lupin's laughter along with the boys'. He looked up from the Potions text he was reading and, since there was no one there to see it, allowed a contented little smile to cross his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore continue to adjust to family life, as do Sirius, Branwen, and Harry.

The day after Blaise's visit, Snape received a letter from Branwen saying that she would take him up on his "kind offer" to help restore Blackmore Manor, and that Lupin and the boys were welcome to come along as well. A day of housecleaning did not sound all that appealing to Theodore and Dylan, but they agreed to go out of curiosity. They were a little frightened as well as curious, but they figured that Snape and Lupin would protect them, and a chance to see inside the ancestral home of the mysterious and possibly demonic Blackmore clan was too tempting to pass up.

The Blackmore estate was located out in the countryside. The mansion was a huge, sprawling building, and its many spiraling turrets made it resemble a small castle. It looked oddly mismatched, though, as if constructed by several different architects who had built separate parts of it without paying any attention to each other's plans. The grounds were surrounded by a crumbling stone wall which was being repaired by a number of small, vaguely man-shaped creatures that appeared to be made out of mud.

"Earth elementals?" Dylan asked, remembering his Incantations and Summonings lessons.

"Five points to Slytherin," Lupin joked, although of course the House Points system did not function outside of the school. "Branwen is a Master-class Summoner, after all. And the elementals seem to be genuinely fond of her; she has enough power to compel them to do her bidding by force, but from what I have observed, they come willingly when she calls."

"The Blackmores have always had odd magical gifts," Snape muttered. It was not surprising, considering that one of her ancestors was a demon, but he kept that piece of information to himself since the boys weren't supposed to know about it. Although he sincerely doubted it would come as all that much of a surprise to any of the Slytherins, whose parents had fed them rumors about the Blackmores having demon blood. 

They passed unchallenged through the open gates, and walked up the path that led to the mansion. As if to prove Lupin's point, they passed by a couple of air elementals that seemed to be blowing dust and debris out of the house and piling it up in a rapidly-growing mound on the front lawn. And a few more air elementals seemed to be working in tandem with water elementals to wash the windows.

"Remus, Severus, thank you for coming," Branwen said, greeting them each with a kiss on the cheek, much to the boys' surprise. She already seemed to be in the process of cleaning house: her long hair was neatly braided instead of hanging loose as it usually was, and she was wearing a faded black robe that was covered with dust. Bane was perched on her shoulder as usual, although he looked a little disgruntled, perhaps because his feathers were dusty as well. "How nice to see you, Theodore, Dylan," she added, smiling warmly at them and shocking them further. "It's kind of you to help us out today."

"No problem," Dylan said, looking a little dazed.

Sirius was in the living room casting cleaning spells with much more vigor and enthusiasm than he had shown during the cleanup of his own mansion. "Hey Moony," he said cheerfully, then nodded at Snape in an almost friendly manner. "Snape."

"Black," Snape acknowledged, nodding back at him.

"I see they've drafted you into helping as well," Lupin said with a grin to Harry, who was sweeping up a pile of large splinters that might once have been a desk or a chair.

"Hi Professor!" Harry said, grinning back at him. He gave Snape a polite but more cautious smile. 

"You know Theodore and Dylan, of course," Lupin said pleasantly.

"Uh...yeah, hi," Harry said, a little awkwardly.

"Hi," Theodore mumbled, just as awkwardly; Gryffindors and Slytherins just did not socialize outside of school. Well, they didn't socialize IN school, either. Except that wasn't really true anymore; Pansy and Millicent had become friends with Parvati and Lavender, and of course there was Lupin and Snape...

"Hi," Dylan said, easily falling back on his carefully cultivated air of politeness and charm. "Are Weasley and Granger here with you, then?" he asked casually.

A little too casually, perhaps, at least to Harry's ears, but maybe that was because he was thinking of the bracelet Dylan had secretly given to Hermione last Christmas, and of how Ron and Hermione had fought over Dylan on Valentine's Day. Dylan's friend Nott didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

"No," Harry replied, watching Dylan carefully. "Hermione is on vacation with her parents; they're traveling in Europe for a couple of weeks."

"Oh," Dylan said; was it Harry's imagination or did he sound a little disappointed?

"As for Ron, well..."

"Molly wouldn't let him come," Branwen said, rolling her eyes a little. "You know how she is about Dark Magic and my family's reputation...although, quite frankly, I'm relieved to have her out of my hair for a few days."

Snape grinned wickedly. "Ah yes, we heard that she was 'helping' you with your wedding plans..."

"She means well, but she's driving me crazy, Severus!" Branwen said crossly. "We decided to hold the wedding here on the estate, partly because I'd like to think that my parents would be watching over me, but also, I must admit, because I hoped it would scare her off, but it hasn't--although she won't let any of the children come over here until it's 'safe'. She kept bothering me about my wedding dress and showing me pictures of these hideous white gowns with ruffles and puffy sleeves--can you imagine me in ruffles?! I told her I was planning to wear my grandmother's gown, so she offered to work on the decorations, but she wants to use pink flowers and ribbons! Can you imagine Blackmore Manor, home to generations of Dark Wizards, festooned with pink ribbons?! My ancestors would roll over in their graves!"

Meanwhile, Sirius pulled Lupin over to the other side of the room and groaned, "Moony, they're driving me nuts! They're in my kitchen almost every day fighting over wedding plans--with Branwen glowering at Molly, and Molly stubbornly determined to be cheerful and helpful. I try to stay out of it, but then they turn to me and ask, 'Sirius, what do you think?' Even Hob makes himself scarce when they're around! I'd go hide under the stairs with him, but I'm afraid Branwen might turn Molly into a toad one day if I'm not around to stop her."

Lupin chuckled and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "Well, I hear Percy's getting married, too, so perhaps she'll be so busy with his wedding that she won't have time to meddle with yours."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Sirius said gloomily, "but I don't think Penelope wants Molly taking over her wedding, either. I suspect she's trying to push her future mother-in-law off on us." Lupin laughed, and Sirius gave him a wounded look. "Some friend you are," he said sulkily.

"Just be glad that Branwen's in-laws aren't interfering with your wedding," Lupin said slyly, and Sirius turned a little pale, thinking of his fiancee's demonic ancestor.

"You've been spending too much time around Snape," he said sourly, and Lupin laughed again. 

Just then, Tonks entered the room carrying a large cage full of squirming, squeaking rats. "Hi Severus, hi Remus! I don't suppose your pet rat would like a friend?"

"One is enough for me, thank you, Tonks," Lupin said firmly.

"Tonks, get those out of the house, will you?" Sirius said, still sounding a little grumpy.

"I'm just on my way out," she replied. "I was going to take them into the woods and let them go."

"You should just kill them," Snape said, eyeing the vermin-filled cage distastefully. "Typical softhearted Gryffindor."

"And who was it that rescued Kiseki from a Dark Magic experiment and gave him to me?" Lupin teased.

Theodore and Dylan looked startled. "You mean you gave Professor Lupin his pet rat?" Dylan asked, staring at Snape incredulously. "He said he rescued it from the Owlery!"

Snape flushed and glared at Lupin. "I only did that to get Serafina to trust me," he growled. "I was trying to convince her that I wasn't like the other Death Eaters."

"What does Sera have to do with it?" Theodore asked in confusion.

"It's a long story," Snape sighed. "It was after the Dark Lord ordered me to give you all lessons in the Dark Arts. I had Miss Avery practice some anti-healing spells on the rat, and--"

Before Snape could finish his story, a commotion arose outside the room, and Theodore cried out in fear and reached for his wand as he saw Thaddeus Nott run into the room--followed by a round little man, less than three feet high, brandishing a broom like a weapon? Fear turned to bewilderment.

Thaddeus ran past Dylan, who also let out a shout of fear and surprise when it suddenly changed and took the form of Lord Voldemort, and then a Dementor as Harry turned towards it. The Dementor, still being chased around the room by a broom-wielding Hob, ran towards Tonks and suddenly transformed into a large, shapeless, translucent red blob.

At the exact same instant, all three boys realized that the creature must be a boggart, pointed their wands at the blob, and shouted, "Riddikulus!" The blob exploded in a cloud of smoke and vanished.

"Well done!" Lupin said, applauding, and the three boys looked pleased.

"Good work," Branwen said approvingly. "Too bad school isn't in session; I'd give you twenty points apiece for that."

Snape raised his eyebrows and asked Tonks, "Your greatest fear is a lump of red gelatin?"

Tonks blushed and said defensively, "It's all my dad's fault! When I was a little girl, he let me stay up late one night and watch TV with him; there just happened to be a horror movie on--'The Blob'. My mum was furious; I had nightmares for a week."

"Nightmares about an oversized dessert?" Snape asked with a touch of condescending amusement.

"It ate people in the movie!"

Snape turned to Lupin and said triumphantly, "I told you those Muggle devices were bad for you!" They had once spent a summer in Japan with Professor Kamiyama, and Lupin had been fascinated by all the Muggle devices--computer, television, video games--that the family owned.

"Oh, stop teasing Tonks," Lupin laughed, and to make sure that he did so, Lupin slipped his arms around Snape and nuzzled his cheek. 

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape snapped, forgetting about Tonks and the boggart. Lupin laughed again; this time it came out sounding surprisingly wicked.

"Definitely been spending too much time around Snape," Sirius muttered, but he looked amused.

The little man bowed to the three boys and said, "Hob thanks you for getting rid of the boggart. Now Hob must get back to getting the house ready for Lady Blackmore's and the Mister's wedding." Then he ran out of the room without waiting for a reply.

"What on earth was that?" Theodore asked. "If it's a house-elf, it's the fattest one I've ever seen!"

"It's a hob," Dylan said. "It works for Mr. Black."

"Call me Sirius," Sirius told Dylan and Theodore cheerfully. 

"I've never seen one before," Theodore said, looking puzzled. "I thought they only served Muggles." A hob traditionally served a non-magical family as an unseen "good spirit" that kept the household running smoothly so long as the family left it a gift--usually food--beside the fireplace every night. Wizards preferred house-elves as servants, because they were magically bound to obey their masters, while a hob could leave if it was mistreated.

"Not many Muggles believe in such things as hobs these days," Sirius told him. "I suppose that's partly our fault, since we wizards we have worked so hard to make sure they don't believe in magic. Anyway, Hob needed a home, and I needed some help around the house, so he ended up with me." 

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked into the room, a large bag slung over one shoulder. "What should I do with all this trash, Branwen?"

"Thank you, Kingsley; just add it to the pile on the front lawn. I'll have one of the fire elementals burn it when we're done. Oh, and perhaps you could help Tonks get rid of those rats."

"What was all the commotion I heard a minute ago?" Shacklebolt asked as he and Tonks left together.

"A boggart. Have you ever heard of a movie called 'The Blob'...?"

"Well, I know you're dying to get a look at the library, Severus," Branwen said with a mischievous smile.

"I'm hurt that you think I have ulterior motives," Snape said, pretending to be offended. "Is it so hard to believe that I just want to help out a friend?"

"You're a Slytherin," Branwen said dryly, although she was still smiling. "Of course you have ulterior motives. However, if you're not interested in seeing the library..."

"I didn't say that!" Snape said hastily.

"Follow me, then," Branwen said, grinning at him. Sirius and Harry joined them, and Branwen led them down a long hallway and added, "It's in the east wing, which is actually a later addition to the main building. Lady Regan, the founder of my clan, built the original mansion, and her descendants have added on to it over the years, rather haphazardly, I'm afraid." 

There were a number of portraits hanging on the wall, many of which appeared to have been damaged in her battle with the Death Eaters more than fifteen years ago: some were singed or had cracked frames, and others had been totally obliterated. She paused in front of one portrait and smiled fondly. It was a painting of a young couple--a handsome man with shoulder-length black hair and dark eyes, and a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and green eyes. "These are my parents," she said. "Lord Meredith Blackmore and his wife, Fiona."

"Ah yes," Lupin said, "I can see the family resemblance. You look very much like your father, but you have your mother's eyes."

"The green color of her eyes might come from her mother's side of the family," Snape said, a bit sourly, "but that steely gaze is definitely from the Blackmore side." The woman in the portrait was lovely, but her eyes were kind and gentle--not the sort of stare that could cow an entire House of spoiled, cynical Slytherins into submission. The man, on the other hand, although he was smiling pleasantly, had a sort of intensity in his eyes that reminded Snape of Branwen.

"Indeed," Branwen said, sounding amused.

"These pictures don't talk, do they?" Harry asked nervously, thinking of the portraits in the Black house.

"No, dear," Branwen said. "My family did not believe in such things. They thought it was something of a sacrilege, to put a piece of oneself into a painting that would live on as a sort of ghostly echo of one's former glory. Besides, quite frankly, it can be very annoying to have several generations worth of ancestors giving you unwanted advice all the time."   
"Tell me about it!" Sirius said, rolling his eyes as he thought of the portrait of his mother that harangued everyone who was unfortunate enough to cross her path. 

Theodore nodded in agreement, thinking of the portraits of his grandparents. He wondered what would happen to them, and to the portraits of some equally unsavory relatives, after he sold Nott Manor; presumably the new owner wouldn't want them. 

_Well, it's not my problem,_ he decided. The thought of them winding up in the fireplace or on a rubbish heap did not distress him in the slightest. In fact, when he finally did get around to selling the mansion after he came of age, he would tell Morrigan De Lacy to put some sort of clause in the contract stating that the buyer bought the place "as is"--then it would be their problem, not his. 

"Uncle Math said that your mother was my grandmother's friend," Dylan said hesitantly to Branwen; he was still a bit intimidated by Professor Blackmore. "And that they had a falling out when your mother married Lord Blackmore."

"Yes, that is true," Branwen said. "It's a sad story; if Deirdre and my mother had remained close friends, perhaps our families would have grown close as well, and I might have been like an aunt or older cousin to your mother and uncles. And perhaps if she could have seen that not all Slytherins are evil, your grandmother would not have opposed Evan's and Ariane's marriage." She sighed, and Dylan bit his lip and blinked back tears as he pictured a life that was entirely different from the one he had; he loved his foster family, but what would it have been like to grow up with both a mother and a father, to have a happy, normal family life like Damien or Hermione or the Weasleys...?

Snape put an arm around his shoulders, and Dylan leaned into the embrace, drawing comfort from it. "Branwen," Snape said, in a soft but accusing voice.

"It's okay, Professor," Dylan said, running the back of his hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears. "It makes me a little sad, but I want to learn more about my family."

To his surprise, Professor Blackmore gave him a surprisingly sad and tender look, and gently stroked his cheek in an almost motherly gesture. "I'm sorry, dear. Dwelling on what-ifs is rarely a good idea, but we are all guilty of it at times, I suppose. Your father was one of my favorite students, and I loved him despite his faults. He had so much potential...not just as a mage, but as a person. If he had lived, I believe in time he would eventually have realized the mistake he made by joining the Death Eaters. I believe he would be proud of you if he could see you today."

That made Dylan start weeping again, and he turned away, pressing his face against Snape's shoulder to hide his tears. Branwen and the others continued walking down the hall to give them some privacy as Snape awkwardly but gently tried to comfort the boy. Lupin paused to pat Dylan on the shoulder and give Snape a tender, encouraging smile before following the others. Theodore glanced back at his foster brother, a worried look on his face, and Lupin put an arm around him and said, "Don't worry, Theo; he'll be all right. He needs to mourn his family, both his mother and his father. I'd be more worried if he didn't weep for them occasionally."

"But Evan Rosier has been dead for years," Theodore protested in a subdued voice.

"Yes, but Ariane's death has opened old wounds," Lupin replied. "And sometimes we mourn most what we never had." Theodore nodded solemnly, remembering how he had wept for his parents, not so much for what there were, but what they had not been. There were so many parents who had sacrificed themselves to save their children: James and Lily Potter, of course, and Dylan's mother, and even Delia Avery and Narcissa Malfoy, who had turned against the Death Eaters and their husbands for Sera's and Draco's sakes. It hurt to know that his parents were not among them, that they would have sacrificed him to save their own lives.

"When I was a student at Hogwarts," Lupin said, "I sometimes mourned the normal life I knew I would never have, the life that the other students took for granted. A life in which I did not have to fear the approach of the full moon every month, a life without the pain and illness that accompanied every transformation, and most of all, a life in which people would not fear and despise me because I was a werewolf."

That made Theodore feel a little better, to know that Lupin understood how he felt. "But people don't hate you anymore, Prof...Remus. Nobody worth knowing, anyway." Lupin chuckled and gave him a little hug. 

Harry felt a little uncomfortable. He had spent so many years regarding the Slytherins as his enemies, that it was hard for him to see them as people with both good and bad points, even though that realization was what had enabled him to defeat Voldemort. It made him feel strange and a little guilty, to see Draco and his cronies not just as the arrogant bullies who had snubbed and taunted him, but as children who loved their parents, even though those parents had been Death Eaters. He had hated the Death Eaters so much that it had never occurred to him that they might have parents or wives or sons who loved them, and the sight of Dylan weeping on Snape's shoulder drove that point home. By all accounts, Evan Rosier had been a loyal Death Eater who had murdered innocent people in the Dark Lord's service, but he had also been the charming boy that Professor Blackmore still felt affection for, and the father that Dylan mourned. Uneasily, he wondered if the other slain Death Eaters also had people who loved and mourned them.

Sirius seemed to guess what he was thinking, because he placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and leaned down and whispered, "You did what had to be done, Harry. But Branwen's right when she says the world isn't black and white. Sometimes I wish it were." 

Meanwhile, Branwen continued identifying the portraits on the wall, as if to distract them, and occasionally stopped to cast a Reparo spell on a damaged painting. "This is my great-great-great-great grandmother, Lady Bronwen, after whom I was named. And this is Lady Sybil, who was a Seer." She paused in front of a painting that was little more than splinters. "I'm afraid this one is too far gone to repair." 

She glanced at the nameplate that was still visible on what remained of the frame. "Not much of a loss, though, to tell you the truth. This was Lady Morag, one of my more...er...disagreeable relatives, one of the ancestors who gave my family a bad name." By this time, Severus and Dylan had caught up with them. "In fact, you might be interested to know, Severus, that she was a Potions Mistress. Unfortunately, she was suspected of poisoning several of her enemies...her son Alastair was said to be a kind and gentle man, though. He was one of the few Blackmore Lords; according to the family histories, Morag was very disappointed that she never had a daughter."

"She must have made his life miserable," Sirius said sympathetically, picturing a harridan much like his own mother. "I'm surprised she didn't poison him; actually, I'm surprised that _my_ mother didn't poison me..."

"Oh, no doubt she would have--Lady Morag, I mean, not your mother, Sirius--except that he was her only heir, and killing him would have meant ending the Blackmore bloodline. Fortunately for Alastair, his mother died when he was twenty-five--a mishap when she was trying out a new potion; a bit too much hemlock, it seems..."

"Are you sure it was an accident?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

"It was officially ruled as one," Branwen replied, "but as Morag was feared and disliked by most of the wizarding community, no one really looked too closely into her death." She grinned slyly, with the sort of gleam in her eyes that did nothing to discourage the rumors about her demon blood. "Perhaps Alastair wasn't quite as gentle as he seemed..."

Sirius shuddered a little as they continued down the corridor, suddenly glad that Branwen had no living relatives...except of course for Araqiel and Regan in the Demon Realm. He hoped that they didn't intend to pay a visit at the wedding, and reassured himself with the thought that a demon could not cross over into the human world without an invitation. And then he resolved to check over the guest list very carefully and send out the wedding invitations himself, just to be on the safe side...

"And this is Lady Gweneth," Branwen said, motioning to another painting, this one of a dark-haired woman standing next to a handsome blond man with gray eyes.

"That man," Dylan said, staring at the portrait in shock. "He looks like..."

"Much like Gwydion, doesn't he?" Branwen finished, smiling. "That is Gweneth's husband, Emlyn. He was a younger son of the Donner family, with no inheritance of his own, since the title and the estate went to his sister, so their marriage was an advantageous one for him even if it meant that his children would bear his wife's name. But according to Lady Gweneth's diaries, it was a love match, not a political one, and they were very happy together."

"But...but," Dylan stammered, "if the Donners and the Blackmores are related, then why did my grandmother hate them so much?"

"I'm not sure that Deirdre was aware of it," Branwen replied, "since this happened about three hundred years ago. If she did know of it, no doubt it was a part of the family history that she preferred to ignore. But all the pureblood families are related to some degree or another; there is only so much pure blood to go around, after all."

"Yes," Dylan murmured, "I remember Professor Snape told us the same thing at the Nott mansion." He smiled, remembering what they had discovered from the Nott family tree. "Theo and I are related; one of his ancestors married a woman from my paternal grandmother's family. And Theo and Professor Snape are related, too."

"There was also a Black in Theodore's family tree," Lupin told Sirius with a smile.

"Let's see," Blackmore said thoughtfully, "if I recall my family history correctly, one of the Blackmore Lords married a Black. Another married a woman from the Snape family, but that was several hundred years ago."

"So perhaps the ability to terrorize students is hereditary, Severus," Lupin joked.

Snape just glowered at him. "Too bad I didn't also inherit the ability to terrorize werewolves," he said sarcastically.

Branwen ignored them and continued, "I think there may be a Nott in there somewhere, but I'd have to check our records to be sure. It gets a little hard to keep track of the family tree when it goes back for a thousand years."

"What about a Potter?" Harry asked curiously.

"No, that is one line that never mixed with ours," Branwen said, smiling ruefully. "I'm afraid that your father's distrust of Slytherin was a family tradition. The Potters were nearly all Gryffindors, and they regarded the Slytherins families with suspicion--the feud probably goes as far back as the time of the Founders." She hesitated, then continued; her eyes went blank and expressionless, but they watched Harry very closely. "One of the early Potter lords was a friend and staunch supporter of Godric Gryffindor, and he sided with Godric during his quarrel with Salazar Slytherin over admitting Muggle-born students to the school."

Dylan and Theodore stared at Harry curiously as a look of dismay spread across his face. Voldemort had told him that he was the descendant of the result of an adulterous affair between Godric Gryffindor and Lord Potter's wife, and that there was not really any Potter blood in his veins. That knowledge was bad enough, but it was even worse to learn that this Potter, his supposed ancestor, had been doubly betrayed, not just by his wife, but by his friend, who was the great hero and founder of Gryffindor House. 

"Branwen!" Sirius snapped, glaring at her accusingly. "Do we really have to dig up all that ancient history? After a thousand years, we should just let bygones be bygones!" Theodore and Dylan looked even more bewildered by that outburst, but Sirius ignored them and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "People are human, Harry," he said kindly. "No one's perfect; we all make mistakes, even people we love and admire. Merlin knows I've made more than my share of them!"

"What are they talking about, Professor?" Dylan whispered to Snape. "Why should Potter be upset that his ancestor was a friend of Gryffindor and an enemy of Slytherin?"

Snape hesitated as Lupin shot him a stern look and shook his head slightly. "It's Gryffindor business, Rosier," Snape whispered back. "It doesn't concern us. Suffice it to say that Mr. Potter's simplistic and Gryffindor-ish view of the world was shaken up a little during the battle with Voldemort."

Theodore and Dylan still looked confused, and Lupin added with a smile, "I think the Slytherins' view of the world was also shaken up; in fact, the entire school was shaken up, but I believe that was a good thing." He leaned over and kissed Snape on the cheek.

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape growled, and the boys laughed.

Branwen smiled and continued leading them down the corridor. "Is there a Rosier in your family tree, Professor?" Dylan asked. "What about a Malfoy?"

"I believe there is a Rosier somewhere in the distant past, but there are no Malfoys," Branwen replied, then smiled wryly. "The men were too proud to give up their names, and they didn't want their women to get the notion that they could be independent and rule in their own name rather than their husband's, so they never married into the Blackmore line. Most the Blackmore Lords married women from prominent pureblood families, but most of the Ladies married men from lesser families, because the men of the pureblood elite would have lost face if they took their wife's name. In fact, a few of the Blackmore women never married at all, though they did bear children to carry on the family name, which was regarded as quite scandalous at the time. But the Blackmores have never really cared what other people thought of us."

Something suddenly occurred to Lupin, and he changed the subject, saying, "I saw Kingsley and Tonks, but I haven't seen Moody. Didn't he offer to help out as well?" Although they were occasionally at odds with each other, Branwen was of one of the few people that Mad-Eye Moody respected, while he was one of the few people who didn't fear her, and they regarded each other as friends.

"Yes, he did," Branwen said, sighing a little, "but the aura of Dark Magic in the house was making him twitchy, so I sent him home. The Death Eaters did enough damage to this house without a paranoid Auror adding to it by firing off spells every time the floorboards squeak or the wind causes a curtain to rustle."

"You'd think old Mad-Eye would relax a little now that Voldemort and the Death Eaters have been defeated," Sirius chuckled.

"Constant vigilance," Branwen said, quoting Moody. "Years of paranoia are hard to shake, and he thinks that some of the Death Eater sympathizers might still carry a grudge against him."

"But surely none of them would be hiding out in your family home," Sirius protested.

"No, but there is my family's reputation, which is not entirely undeserved," Branwen pointed out. "He fears there may be some hidden trap spells or magical items that I don't know about, which is possible. It's probably just as well that he left, since I would rather not have any priceless family heirlooms destroyed by him."

They passed through a door that had been blown off its hinges, and entered a large room whose walls were lined with shelves that were filled with books from floor to ceiling--or had been, at one time. Some of the shelves had been damaged by spell blasts, spilling their contents onto the floor. A table in the center of the room had been blasted into kindling.

Snape, Dylan, and Theodore stared at the library with looks of awe on their faces. "Wow," Dylan breathed; he and Snape in particular looked like children who had just been set loose in a candy store.

Branwen smiled at them indulgently. "If you would help to repair the shelves and organize the books, I would be much obliged." The trio nodded enthusiastically. "But be careful," she warned Theodore and Dylan. "Some of the books have protective enchantments on them. Use an Aperio spell to check them first, and don't touch any enspelled books without consulting Remus, Severus, or myself first, understand?"

"Yes, Professor," the boys chorused.

"And be especially careful with the books in that corner of the room," she added. 

They cautiously approached the section of shelving she was pointing to, and saw that it was filled with books on the Dark Arts, Summoning, and Demonology. Snape was eyeing the books just as eagerly as his foster sons were, but he cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Let's start over here, Nott, Rosier." The boys sighed regretfully and backed off. An Aperio spell on the pile of books nearest the door revealed no enchantments, and they began repairing the shelves and sorting through the books.

Meanwhile, Sirius and Harry lifted up the door, propping it up in the doorway. "It's mostly intact," Sirius said. "I think it can be salvaged with a couple of Reparo spells." Under his breath, he asked Branwen, "Is it really safe to turn those boys loose in your library?"

"I think so," she replied quietly, so that only Harry and Sirius could hear her. "All Slytherins are drawn to the Dark Arts, but after what they've gone through, I don't think they will be tempted to misuse their powers. And Severus and Remus will keep them in line. You will notice that I didn't invite Narcissa and Draco to our little cleanup party; they've been doing very well, but I didn't think it wise to put too much temptation in front of them."

The three Slytherins spent more time leafing through the books than they did shelving them, but Branwen didn't seem to mind. Theodore was absorbed in a book called "Runes of Power," and Snape and Dylan were carefully examining a thick, ancient tome on potions.

"It's a crime to damage such a rare and valuable book!" Snape exclaimed indignantly. It had been damaged by spellfire, although the thick leather binding of the book had absorbed the brunt of the damage. The edges of some of the pages were singed and burned away, though.

"Will a Reparo spell fix it?" Dylan asked dubiously.

"We can try..."

Even Lupin got distracted when he discovered a entire section devoted solely to fiction, and sat on the floor, happily flipping through the pages of a copy of "Le Morte D'Arthur" that looked old enough to be an original edition.

Sirius chuckled. "Shall we leave the bookworms alone, then--?" he started to say, then broke off as he looked up and noticed a large painting hanging on the wall between two rows of shelves. 

It was undamaged and it portrayed a couple: a beautiful young woman who looked much like Branwen except that her eyes were brown, and an even more beautiful young man, who also looked like Branwen. His hair was long and black, and his skin perfectly smooth and porcelain-pale, which might be artistic license on the part of the painter, but somehow Sirius didn't think so. There was a sly, knowing smile on his lips, and there seemed to be just a hint of red tint in the black paint that had been used on his eyes. The unknown painter of the portrait must have been a master of his art, because he had managed to capture the look of ancient wisdom in the young man's eyes with a bit of oil paint and a few strokes of his brush. "These are your ancestors, aren't they, Branwen?" Sirius asked in a hushed tone of mingled fear and awe. "The founders of your clan, Regan and Araqiel."

Branwen's eyes flickered over to Dylan and Theodore, who had overheard and were looking up at the portrait curiously. "Yes, Sirius," she replied calmly, "although Regan's husband went by the name Lord Raven in public. His people believed that names hold power, and he did not care to reveal his real name to outsiders."

"Oh," Sirius said in consternation. He was not an expert on the Dark Arts, but he had a vague recollection that a wizard could summon a demon by calling on the demon's true name.

"No harm done," Branwen said cheerfully. "After all, Lady Regan and Lord Raven have long ago departed this world." Sirius noted, with some amusement, that strictly speaking, this was not a lie, since she had not said that they were dead. "Well, I'm afraid this table is beyond help," she said, looking down at its splintered remains. "Sirius, Harry, why don't you two help me levitate it out of here, and then I'll check on the furniture stored in the attic for a suitable replacement? Severus, Remus, if you and the boys see anything you'd like to borrow, just let me know. So long as it's nothing dangerous, I don't mind, and I believe there are some Potions texts that you might be interested in."

"Thank you, Branwen!" Snape said, startling Harry by grinning from ear to ear, an avid gleam in his black eyes. "I have noticed a few texts in your collection that are extremely difficult to find these days..." 

"Help yourself," Branwen told him, and she left with Harry and Sirius.

"You might regret that offer," Sirius warned her. "Are you sure you won't come back to find half of your shelves bare?"

Branwen just laughed. "I trust Remus to keep them from getting carried away, and besides, I don't have time to read all those books myself, and they ought to be used by someone who will appreciate them."

Lupin, Snape, Theodore, and Dylan forced themselves to stop reading and actually do some work. They repaired the shelves and sorted through the books on the floor, mending those which had not been damaged too badly, and regretfully setting aside those which were a total loss. They also set aside a few books each to take home, trying not to be too greedy. "Do you think she'll let us come back here again?" Dylan asked hopefully.

"I'm sure she will," Lupin assured him with a smile. "She does believe in encouraging a love of knowledge in her students, after all." 

Many of the books in "that corner of the room" were covered with malevolent-looking red glowing runes that became visible with the help of an Aperio spell, which made enchantments visible to the human eye. The runes seemed to twist and writhe like snakes, making Theodore and Dylan dizzy if they stared at them too closely.

"They're a type of Dark Warding spell," Snape explained, "somewhat advanced beyond the spells I taught you. No doubt they're meant to protect the books from falling into the wrong hands. They'll inflict a nasty curse on anyone who tries to open them without giving the proper command word."

"Then how are we supposed to put them back on the shelves?" Theodore asked nervously. "Should we levitate them?"

"I think they're safe to touch so long as you don't try to open them, but perhaps it would be best if you and Dylan only handle the unenchanted books. Lupin and I will take care of these." Snape carefully separated out the warded books from the normal ones, and just as carefully began replacing them on the shelves, pausing every now and then to glance at one. "Hmm...'Book of the Dead: a Guide to Necromancy'--it was banned by the Ministry fifty years ago; I didn't think there were any left that hadn't been confiscated."

Lupin gave the book a distasteful look, plucked it out of his lover's hands, and placed it on the shelf. "Why would you want such a thing?"

"It's not like I want to become a Necromancer, but you can't just erase knowledge, Lupin," Snape replied. "No matter how much you try to suppress it, someone will find a way to dig it up again. Isn't it better that we know how such magic works, so that we're able to defend ourselves against less scrupulous mages?"

"Maybe," Lupin said skeptically. "But it doesn't seem wise to make Necromantic and Demon-Summoning spells available to the public at large, either."

"Well, perhaps they should be regulated, but not entirely forbidden. Oh, look, a book on Dark Runes! There are only three known copies of this particular title left in the world; there were not many to begin with, and most of the others were destroyed during the backlash against the Dark Arts after Voldemort rose to power. It figures that the Blackmores would have one. Do you think Branwen would let me borrow it?" Lupin sighed, and Snape smiled sheepishly. "I can't help it, Remus. I never could stand any piece of knowledge being denied to me, even if I would never actually use it."

Lupin smiled at him tenderly. "You have a love of knowledge worthy of a Ravenclaw, Severus--"

"But the ethics of a Slytherin," Snape finished with a grin.

"That's why I love you," Lupin said, leaning over to kiss him, and for once Snape didn't object even though the boys were present, because he was moved by the absolute sincerity in Lupin's voice. Lupin loved him as he was, Slytherin ethics (or more accurately, lack thereof) and all.

Theodore and Dylan, having grown used to Lupin's frequent displays of affection, just grinned at each other and continued shelving. They finished quickly; this section of the library had suffered the least harm, perhaps because it had been so heavily warded. Theodore reached for a book on the shelf, then hesitated, glancing over at Lupin and Snape, who were no longer kissing but still seemed to be preoccupied with each other. Lupin was gently teasing Snape as the Potions Master looked longingly at almost every book before placing it on the shelf.

"I wish you'd look at me that way, Severus!"

"Don't be silly, Lupin; you can't possibly be jealous of a book," Snape replied, but he sounded more pleased than scornful.

Lupin pretended to pout. "If I covered myself with protective wards, would that make me more appealing?"

"Don't be sil--" Snape started to reply, then gave Lupin a speculative look. "Hmm..." On second thought, that might be rather interesting...but could he handle the frustration? At times their desire was so overpowering--particularly near the full moon--that they nearly tore the robes off each other's bodies. Having to remove warding spells as well would definitely slow things down, but the challenge of it was rather titillating...and to be honest, the frustration was rather titillating as well...

"Ooh, you like that idea, don't you?" Lupin laughed. He had only been joking, but seeing Severus's reaction made him consider the idea seriously.

Since the pair was paying no attention to him at the moment, Theodore pulled a book off the shelf entitled "A History of Demonology". It was a history text, not a spellbook, so there were no wards on it.

"What are you doing, Theo?" Dylan whispered nervously. Technically, the book might not be off-limits to them, but he wasn't sure that their guardians would approve of them reading it, either.

"I just wanted to look something up," Theodore said, flipping through the book. "That name Sirius Black mentioned sounded kind of familiar..."

"What? Oh, you mean the name of Regan Blackmore's husband?" Dylan glanced up at the portrait hanging on the wall.

"Yes. Let's see...Abaddon...Abraxas...Alastor?" Theodore snickered. "It says that Alastor is the name of a Greek demon. I didn't know that, but it's appropriate for someone like Mad-Eye Moody, don't you think? Alocer...Amduscias...ah, here it is!" He pointed at a name on the page and Dylan leaned over his shoulder to look at it. "Araqiel, also known as Arakiel, Arqael, and Arkiel, is a demon who taught human beings the signs of the earth."

"What does that mean, 'signs of the earth'?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps some sort of sorcery? But that's not the point...the name of a Blackmore ancestor--the founding Blackmore ancestor, in fact--is in this book!" Theodore tapped the entry on the page emphatically with his finger.

Dylan glanced up nervously at portrait of Regan and Lord Raven/Araqiel, as if to make sure it wasn't going to suddenly come to life. "Just because he was named after a demon doesn't make him one! I mean, you just said that Moody has the name of a demon, too, and he's human...at least I'm pretty sure he is..." 

"Well, but don't you think it's significant that everyone's been saying for years that the Blackmores have demon blood, and the co-founder of the clan just happens to have the same name as a demon...?"

"Well, maybe that's how the rumors got started," Dylan said, trying to convince himself as much as he was Theodore. He suddenly remembered the time that Snape and Sirius had healed him with a Blood Healing spell, the night he had taken the vampiric roses from the Rosier mansion; he thought he remembered Snape refusing to let Blackmore donate her blood to the spell and saying something about her not being completely human. But the memory was vague and hazy; it was probably just a fever dream...at least, he profoundly hoped that it was.

"You know, there were rumors about your family, too..." Theodore flipped through the book again. "See here, it says that Rosier is the name of the Demon of Seduction."

"What?! Let me see that!" Dylan took the book from Theodore. "So you think this demon was my ancestor?"

Theodore grinned. "Well, that would explain why women seem to find you so irresistible...but seriously, the rumors never said that the Rosiers were demons, just that they had dealings with them. Those roses of yours had to come from somewhere, after all..."

"A human wizard could've enchanted them."

"I suppose so, but no one's ever managed to duplicate such a spell--"

"What are you two looking at?" Lupin asked cheerfully, and both boys jumped and looked up with identical guilty expressions on their faces.

Snape took one look at their faces and held out his hand expectantly. He didn't even need to say anything, just put his sternest Potions Master look on his face, and Dylan meekly handed over the book. Snape raised his eyebrows and said, "It's not exactly on Hogwarts' recommended reading list, is it?"

"No, sir," Theodore said defensively, "but it's not a spellbook. It's not like we were planning to summon a demon or something."

"Then what were you doing?" Snape asked.

Somehow Theodore didn't think that "trying to figure out whether Professor Blackmore really does have demon blood" would go over very well. "Uh...we were just curious," he said lamely.

"Didn't you just say that knowledge shouldn't be suppressed?" Dylan chimed in, a look of wide-eyed earnestness on his face.

"I think you've had enough knowledge for one day," Snape said dryly, and placed the book back on the shelf.

Just then, Branwen, Sirius, and Harry returned with a new table to replace the broken one. "The place looks wonderful!" Branwen exclaimed, smiling at them warmly. "Thank you so much!"

"We should be thanking _you_ for the chance to peruse your library," Lupin laughed, "and for your kind offer to let us borrow some of the books."

"Yes, I've been looking for this particular text for years," Snape said, holding up the Potions book that he and Dylan had mended. "It's very rare; are you sure you don't mind if I borrow it?"

"Not at all," Branwen replied. "You can make better use of it than I can, anyway." She took a quick look at the books that they had set aside to take home. Dylan and Snape had chosen Potions texts, of course, while Theodore had selected a couple of books on runes. "Good choice, Mr. Nott," Branwen said approvingly. "I've noticed that you have a real talent for drawing runes; you're probably the best in your year group."

Theodore smiled, feeling startled but pleased and proud. Being praised was a new experience for him because he had spent most of his time at Hogwarts trying to keep a low profile. It was a habit that had been ingrained in him long before he had started school, because attracting attention at home usually resulted in his father inflicting a painful curse or hex on him, and it hadn't been wise to do so at school either, because Draco hated being upstaged by anyone. "Better than Granger?" he asked. He didn't hate Hermione Granger the way Draco did, but it was a little annoying, the way the Muggle-born girl seemed to excel at everything she tried her hand at--not unlike Dylan, come to think of it.

Harry scowled a little at Theodore, but Branwen just smiled in a surprisingly gentle manner. "Miss Granger is good at drawing runes because she practices very hard at it, but I think you have a natural talent for it, Theodore. It's that elusive quality that separates a Master from one who is merely skilled and competent, as Severus should well know. Not that I'm saying you're a Master at Rune-making, mind you, but you have the potential to become one--if you work hard at it. Coasting on natural talent will take one only so far."

"Mr. Nott doesn't 'coast' in his classes, Branwen," Snape said reprovingly, and Theodore felt even more pleased.

"No, I've noticed that he and Mr. Zabini work very hard in my class," Branwen agreed, and Snape seemed appeased. She took a look at the books Lupin had selected, which were mostly novels. "A little light reading, I see, Remus...oh, except for this one." She held up a book on warding spells. "Something for next year's lesson plans?"

Lupin grinned at Snape, who turned bright red. "No, just a little personal project I have in mind," he said casually. Sirius gave the two of them a suspicious look, then decided he would really rather not know anything about it.

"Well, you seem to be finished here, so shall we take a break and have lunch?" Branwen suggested.

There were sandwiches and butterbeer waiting for them in the dining room, no doubt laid out by Hob, and everyone tucked into their food heartily. The three boys found themselves seated together at one end of the table, eating in awkward silence as the adults laughed and conversed with each other at the opposite end.

"So when are you going to make an honest woman of my cousin, Kingsley?" Sirius teased.

"Sirius!" Tonks scolded. "You don't need to talk about me like I'm some hapless maiden from a bad romance novel! Kingsley and I are taking things at our own pace, and besides, aren't there enough weddings going on at the moment? There's you and Branwen, and Percy and Penelope..."

"Percy seems to have matured a lot," Lupin said.

"Nearly getting killed will do that to you sometimes," Sirius said sardonically.

"It's too bad you and Severus can't get married," Tonks said to Lupin with a grin, "otherwise I suppose there'd be another wedding."

Snape looked horrified. "People are gossiping about us enough as it is! We'd never hear the end of it if..." His voice trailed off as he realized Lupin might take his words the wrong way, and nervously turned towards his lover, hoping that he hadn't hurt Lupin's feelings, and just as fervently hoping that Tonks's words hadn't put any ideas into the werewolf's head. He did seem to have a fondness for making a public spectacle of them, after all...

To Snape's relief, Lupin just laughed and smiled at him fondly. "I already have everything I want, Tonks." He touched the quartz pendant that hung from a gold chain around his neck--a good-luck charm that was his first gift from Severus, back when they had been students, which he could now wear openly and no longer had to hide. Then he reached out and placed his hand over Snape's. "I have Severus. We're finally able to be together without having to hide our relationship from the Death Eaters. And--" His smile turned into a grin that managed to be mischievous and yet loving at the same time. "--the fact that he allowed me to kiss him in front of the entire school is as dramatic a declaration of love as I could possibly wish for. I am content." He leaned over and kissed Snape lightly on the mouth; Snape turned red but did not object.

"Good," he said sourly, but he briefly squeezed Lupin's hand, and the affection in his eyes belied the tone of his voice. "Because I hope you don't expect a repeat performance; you've ruined my reputation enough as it is. Besides, marriage is a political contrivance, at least among the purebloods. It's an alliance for the purpose of gaining money and power, and a means by which to carry on the bloodline and the family name. Since Lupin and I don't care to play politics and obviously cannot have children, there's no reason for us to get married."

"You're so unromantic, Severus," Tonks complained.

"Oh, he can be quite romantic when he puts his mind to it, I assure you, Tonks!"

"Oh, shut up, Lupin!"

"Too bad," Sirius said with mock-regret. "I'm sure Snape would have looked quite fetching in a wedding gown..."

"How would you like to spend the rest of your life as a toad, Black? No wait, that might actually be an improvement--at least a toad doesn't have fleas..."

"If you turn him into a toad, I'll have to cancel the wedding, Severus," Branwen said mildly.

"Yes, but then Molly Weasley would stop pestering you," Snape pointed out helpfully.

"Hmm, now that is a tempting thought..."

"Branwen!" Sirius said indignantly. "Snape!"

The other adults all laughed at him. None of them were paying any attention to the three boys at the other end of the table, who were beginning to feel a little left out. Finally, in an attempt to break the ice, Dylan asked Harry, "So what's it like living with Blackmore?"

Harry gave the Slytherin boy a wary look, but couldn't detect any hostility in his eyes or his voice. "Um...she's okay. She's strict, but she's pretty nice. She's not as scary as she is in class. What's it like living with Snape?"

"He's okay," Dylan said echoing Harry's words, then he and Theodore exchanged a glance; that was a vast understatement that didn't come close to describing their relationship with Snape. He wasn't sure if a Gryffindor could understand that, or if he'd even want to try discussing something that personal with a Gryffindor, but somehow it didn't seem fair to describe Snape as merely "okay" after all he'd done for them. "No, that's not true," Dylan corrected himself. "He's better than 'okay'--he's looked after us Slytherins and protected us from Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And he and Professor Lupin gave me and Theo a home."

"Yeah, I know," Harry mumbled, looking down at his plate. He felt a little guilty as he remembered how he had been convinced for years that Snape was in league with Voldemort, despite Dumbledore's and Hermione's assurances to the contrary. Of course Snape hadn't treated him very nicely, but being mean didn't automatically make someone a Death Eater. Harry sighed. "I suppose I'll have to listen to Hermione say 'I told you so' for the rest of my life." 

"What?" Theodore asked in confusion.

"Oh, she's insisted all along that Snape was okay when everybody else thought he might still be a Death Eater," Harry said.

"Really?" Theodore said, sounding shocked, while Dylan smiled, looking very pleased and almost smug. "Huh," said Theodore, "never thought I'd see a Gryffindor standing up for Professor Snape. Then again I never thought I'd see Pansy and Millicent getting all chummy with a couple of Gryffindor girls, either."

"We hear you and Draco have been hanging out, too," Dylan said.

"We're not exactly 'hanging out,'" Harry said in a defensive tone. "His mother is Sirius's cousin, so sometimes they come over for dinner, that's all."

Theodore and Dylan grinned at each other; Draco had been equally quick to disavow any friendship with Harry Potter. 

"So you guys are still hanging out with Malfoy, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dylan replied, "and just to give you fair warning, we've been practicing Quidditch moves together." He grinned and flung an arm around his foster brother's shoulders. "We've already picked out a new Chaser, so you Gryffindors have your work cut out for you."

"But tryouts don't start till September!" Harry protested.

"Well, of course Theo still has to go through the official tryouts, but he's a shoo-in," Dylan said dismissively.

Trust a Slytherin to break, or at least bend the rules by trying out new players during the summer. Harry wondered if he ought to try and get his team together for some unofficial practice as well, but several of them were off on trips with their families or working summer jobs. And he needed to replace a few members who had graduated; he supposed he ought to start thinking about potential replacements. Well, maybe he could at least get together with Ron and Ginny for a little practice; they needed to stay sharp if they intended to beat Slytherin this year.

The three boys made small talk about Quidditch for the rest of the meal, good-naturedly debating the merits of their favorite teams. Occasionally the debate got a little heated, but things never got out of hand. 

Branwen smiled as she watched them, and Sirius leaned over and whispered, "You're looking rather smug, my dear."

"That's because I'm feeling rather smug...my dear," she said, giving him a kiss. She had invited the boys over and seated them together at lunch with this very goal in mind. They were not yet friends, but at least they were learning that they didn't have to be enemies. Her smile grew even more smug as she regarded her first experiment in inter-House cooperation--Remus and Severus--which had turned out to be a success after all, even if it had taken twenty years to come to fruition.

*** 

After lunch, the cleanup continued, then Snape, Lupin, and the boys went home for dinner. After dinner, Snape played a game of chess with Dylan while Theodore read a book on runes that he had borrowed from Branwen's library. Lupin retreated to the bedroom halfway through the chess game, which was a little strange, since he usually enjoyed the quiet time in the evenings that they all spent together, which had become something of a family ritual. The boys were tired and went to bed early, so Snape headed to his own bedroom to check on Lupin.

He found Lupin lying on the bed, a pensive look on his face. "Lupin? Are you all right?"

Lupin sat up and smiled at him. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Thinking? About what?"

"Love. Family. Marriage."

"Listen, Remus...about this afternoon," Snape said awkwardly. "I don't want you to think...I mean, you know I love you...if it were possible for us to get married--which it isn't, but if it were and you wanted--"

Lupin silenced him with a kiss. "Don't worry about it, Severus. I won't deny that I would be delighted to marry you if that were possible, but that's merely a human formality. When a wolf chooses a mate, it doesn't care about rules and regulations and official certificates and licenses." He laid his head on Snape's shoulder, sighing contentedly. "It knows that you are mine and I am yours, and that is all that matters."

Snape stroked Lupin's hair and asked, "Then why were you thinking about love, family, and marriage?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about how sad it was, what you said about marriage being merely a political alliance for most of the pureblood families. Maybe Lucius wouldn't have turned out so bad if he had come from a loving family, and then Draco would still have a father. And I was thinking about how Ariane was disowned because her mother didn't approve of her lover. And I was thinking about how happy I am now with my family, but feeling a little guilty at the same time, because we only have the boys because their parents are dead."

"That's true, but we didn't kill them, Lupin. And in Theodore's case, he's better off without them."

"Harsh but true," Lupin sighed, then smiled a little. "At least we can spare Dylan and Theodore the fate of an arranged political marriage. They can marry for love--at least Dylan can. And maybe someday the law will change, and Theo and Blaise can marry if they choose to."

"You really don't regret that we can't marry?"

Lupin grinned at Snape. "I told you, the wolf doesn't care about marriage licenses. All it wants is for the world to know that I have claimed you as my mate, and I think we've already accomplished that."

"Beast," Snape teased.

"Exactly," Lupin agreed, then growled softly in Snape's ear; Snape shivered with pleasure. Lupin undid the first few fastenings of Snape's robe, pushing back the high collar of the robe to expose the white skin of Snape's neck. "The wolf wants to put its mark on you," Lupin whispered, and nipped at Snape's neck, gently at first, then hard enough to leave a bruise, but stopping just short of breaking the skin.

Snape groaned and reached for Lupin, but his hands skittered off Lupin's robe, repelled by some unseen force. "What the--?!" he exclaimed, then reached for his wand. "Aperio!" he said, and suddenly he could see the glowing runes of warding that covered Lupin's robe. Snape laughed, "You sly dog--"

"Wolf," Lupin corrected with a mischievous grin.

"So that's what you were doing all this time! Well, I'll get rid of those in no time!"  "Don't be so sure, Sev," Lupin retorted. "My specialty is defensive magic, after all. I intended for this to be a challenge for you."

"I'm a master of the Dark Arts," Snape said haughtily. "Removing wards is child's play for me."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Professor Snape."

"Oh, I know exactly where I want to put my mouth, Lupin, but we need to get those robes out of the way first," Snape said, leering at the werewolf, who blushed furiously.

Snape set about removing the wards, a delicate process not unlike unweaving the spell-threads from the hexed Bane-bunny last year, although not quite as difficult. But it was hard for him to concentrate on his spell-casting when Lupin kept writhing suggestively on the bed while smiling at him enticingly.

"Damn it, Lupin! That's cheating!"

"A Slytherin complaining about cheating?" Lupin laughed. "That's rich!"

"Sometimes I think you were Sorted into the wrong House," Snape grumbled. "Or maybe living in the dungeon is causing you to think like a Slytherin."

After fifteen minutes (Snape would later claim that it would only have taken him five if Lupin hadn't been distracting him), he finally managed to dispel the wards, by which time they were both flushed with desire and impatience. "It's about time!" Lupin growled.

Snape pulled off Lupin's robe and decided he wasn't going to waste anymore time fiddling with the buttons on Lupin's shirt or trousers. He raised his wand and chanted a brief incantation, and all of Lupin's remaining clothes fell apart at the seams and fell to the floor in pieces as Lupin yelped in surprise. "That was the first time I've tried that spell, but it seems to be a success," Snape said, regarding the results with a look of satisfaction on his face. 

"You owe me a new outfit, Severus!" Lupin said, blushing and laughing at the same time.

"Yes, yes," Snape said impatiently, "we can go to Diagon Alley and buy you some new clothes tomorrow, but right now..." He pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him.

Lupin kissed him back, then began undressing him. "Let's get you out of these robes...do you really have to wear shirts with so many buttons, Severus? I think I'll have to get you to teach me that spell..." But finally he cast aside the last piece of clothing, and as they tumbled into the bed together, Lupin thought to himself that the warding spell might have been the best idea he had ever come up with.

*** 

They returned to Blackmore Manor to help Branwen with the cleanup project over the next few days, until she deemed the mansion habitable again. She thanked Lupin, Snape, and the boys profusely and gave them a standing invitation to stop by and use the library whenever she was at the Manor.

Soon after that, Dylan made arrangements to spend a few days in Wales visiting his Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin and their new baby. Before he left, Snape brewed and bottled some tonic suitable for treating a colicky baby as a "peace offering". Goewin loved Dylan like a son, and she had not been happy that Ariane had designated Snape and Lupin as his guardians instead of her and Math, although she had accepted the decision since that was what Dylan wanted.

"Is Ariana sick?" Lupin asked, sounding concerned.

"If she's not now, then she will be eventually," Snape said with a shrug. "All babies suffer from colic at one time or another, and perhaps Goewin will think of us more kindly when she doesn't have to stay up all night with a sick, crying baby."

Lupin looked distressed. "With all the excitement of dealing with the aftermath of the battle and getting the boys settled in, I completely forgot to send Goewin a baby present!"

Dylan grinned. "Don't worry; according to Aunt Goewin's letters, the baby already has a ton of toys from the local villagers, Order members, and even complete strangers who read about her birth in the Daily Prophet." Goewin and Math, like the other Order members, had been dubbed heroes in the press, and their daughter's birth had been regarded as a good omen and a sign of hope since she and her mother had narrowly escaped being sacrificed by Voldemort, and because she had been born immediately after the Death Eaters had been defeated. "Besides," Dylan added, "you already gave her that stuffed bunny for Christmas, remember? The one that looks like Bane?" He laughed, remembering the plush toy rabbit that looked amazingly like Bane in his hexed bunny form.

"Yes, but that was a Christmas present for Goewin," Lupin said. "I still wanted to give the baby something after she was born. It's traditional, after all. Well, I'll make something before you go. Hmm...it'll have to be something simple, since I don't have much time." He settled down at the kitchen table with his penknife and some scraps of wood and began carving.

"What are you doing, Prof...um...Remus?" Theodore asked curiously.

"I thought I'd carve some animals and make them into a mobile for little Ariana," Lupin replied. The boys sat at the table with him and watched in fascination as a crouching bunny slowly began to emerge and take shape from the small block of wood. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" Dylan asked.

"My father taught me when I was a little boy," Lupin said. "Would you like to give it a try?" 

Dylan and Theodore looked at each other. "Uh...sure, I guess so," Theodore said. 

"Let's see," Lupin said, "I don't have an extra knife, but..." Lupin took a look at the small knives the boys used for chopping roots in Potions class, and deemed them acceptable. The wood was harder than the roots they normally chopped, but the knives were sturdy and of good quality--their wealthy families had bought the best that they could afford when purchasing their school supplies. 

In Dylan's case, it was a sign of affection from his indulgent great-uncle and aunt, while in Theodore's case, it had not been affection or concern that motivated his father, but rather the need to prove that he was a member of the pureblood elite. Therefore, as cruel as he had been to his son, Thaddeus Nott had always made sure that Theodore's clothes and school supplies were expensive and high-quality, lest they lose face like the Weasleys, who were sneered at for sending their children to school with hand-me-down robes and secondhand books and equipment. Of course, Draco Malfoy's things were always a little better than everyone else's... Theodore shook his head a little, as if trying to shake those unpleasant memories out of his head.

"So what do we do now?" Dylan asked, staring blankly at the piece of wood Lupin gave him. "Where do we start? How do you decide what to carve?"

Lupin smiled. "Haven't you ever heard the story about the sculptor who, when asked how he carved an elephant out of stone, said, 'I just cut away everything that doesn't look like an elephant'?"

"Oh, that's very helpful, Lupin," Snape interjected sarcastically.

"Sometimes I already have something in mind," Lupin continued, "and other times I let the wood choose for me. Look at the grain of the wood..." He traced a curving line along the piece of wood with his finger. "That might be a bird's wing...and that knot in the wood there sort of looks like an eye." He showed them how to begin whittling away at the wood, cautioning, "Be sure to always carve away from and not towards yourself in case--"

"Ouch!" Dylan exclaimed.

"--the knife slips and you cut yourself," Lupin finished with a rueful grin. "Are you okay, Dylan?"

"Yeah," he said, sucking on his wounded finger. "It's just a scratch."

"I'll get some healing salve," Snape said. "Be careful, Rosier. It's difficult to become a Potions Master when you're missing a few fingers."

Theodore discovered, to his secret delight, that there was something he was better at than Dylan. He seemed to have a knack for carving, although his efforts looked crude next to Lupin's, but not bad for a beginner. 

Meanwhile, Dylan found that his knife refused to go in the direction he wanted it to, either slipping off to the side or gouging deeper than he'd intended; although he was adept at slicing roots finely and precisely in Potions class, carving felt clumsy and unnatural to him. If Draco had been present, he would have been thrilled to learn that there was actually an activity that Dylan was bad at. After Dylan cut himself a second time, he laughed and said, "I think I'll stop while my fingers are all still intact!" But he did help Lupin and Theo paint the little wooden animals when they were done, and help string them together on the mobile.

"Thank you," he said, packing away the finished product before he left. "I'm sure Ariana will love it."

"Have fun, Dylan," Lupin said, giving his foster son a hug.

"Thanks, Remus."

"Take care of yourself, Rosier," Snape said gruffly. "Call us if you need anything."

Dylan smiled because he recognized that tone of voice, the gruffness an attempt to disguise the concern and affection beneath it. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sure I'll be fine. See you in a few days, Theo."

"See you, Dylan."

Dylan picked up his bag and his owl's cage, then flung a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, saying, "The Donner estate, Wales!" He stepped through the green flames that flared up, and vanished.

The first day without Dylan passed by quietly. Theodore spent the morning studying, and after lunch, he and Lupin went for a walk in the woods, then came back to the house and did a little more carving. Lupin also showed Theo some of the pieces he had carved, including a serpent that he said had been a Christmas present for Professor Snape, and a beautiful set of chess pieces that Lupin said he and his father had carved together when he was a boy. 

After dinner, Theodore and Snape played a game of chess while Lupin read a book, glancing up occasionally to smile at them tenderly. Theodore loved his friend and foster brother, but a small, selfish part of him felt a kind of guilty pleasure at having his foster parents all to himself. Lupin was always kind to him, and Snape was too, in his own gruff way, and it wasn't as if they ignored him when Dylan was around, but, well...Dylan was always so handsome and confident and charismatic that he seemed to become the center of attention wherever he went, without even trying, which absolutely drove Draco up the wall sometimes. And everyone knew that Dylan was Snape's favorite, which also annoyed the hell out of Draco. 

Theo was not so much annoyed as he was wistful, because he was no one's favorite except for Blaise's. He was grateful to his foster parents for taking him in, but he suspected that they had done it out of pity because no one else wanted him. Lupin had said that he loved him, and Theodore supposed he believed it, but Lupin loved everyone--probably even Crabbe and Goyle. If Crabbe and Goyle had been orphaned, would Lupin have convinced Snape to foster them, too? Probably.

"Theodore?" Snape said, startling him out of his reverie. "It's your move."

"Oh, right. Sorry, sir." _Idiot,_ Theodore scolded himself. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself--you have a home and a family, and no one uses you for target practice anymore; what more could you ask for? And even if Dylan is Snape's favorite, he still spent all that money to hire that lawyer to keep the Ministry from taking your estate._ He looked up and saw Snape waiting patiently for him to make his move, and Lupin smiling at both of them, and he felt a little better.

"And what are you smirking at, Lupin?" Snape snapped.

"I am smiling because I am happy," Lupin replied serenely. "Because I am in the presence of two people I love."

Snape flushed a little, and scowled at Lupin. But Theodore noticed the corners of his mouth twitch upwards just a little, as if he were fighting back a smile. He was beginning to learn, because Dylan had pointed it out to him, that Snape's little arguments with Lupin were a sign of affection rather than anger. Then Theodore felt ashamed of having been glad that his foster brother was gone. He shook off his self-pitying mood, and concentrated on the game, actually managing to beat Snape for the first time this summer--which was no small feat, since his teacher's strategy was as clever and devious as one might expect of a former Death Eater.

"Very good, Mr. Nott," Snape said approvingly, and Theodore beamed with pride. "I'm impressed; it seems that Master Karasu's strategy lessons were quite effective. But I'll be prepared for you next time; shall we have a rematch tomorrow night?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore said happily. How strange, that he had lived in fear of the Potions Master for years, and now he was living with him and looking forward to playing chess with him, was even a little jealous of how close he and Dylan were. 

The game had lasted most of the night, and it was now later than Theodore had realized. As they put away the chess set, Theodore hid a yawn behind his hand, but Lupin noticed. "I think we should all call it a night," he said with a smile.

"Yes, sir," Theodore said obediently, and headed downstairs to his room. But lying in bed, he felt lonely and a little uneasy. He was not used to being alone at night; for the past six years, Blaise had been his roommate, and of course he had been sharing a room with Dylan this summer. The only time he had slept alone since becoming a student at Hogwarts was when he had gone home to Nott Manor for the holidays and summers. 

Unlike the other students, he had dreaded the holidays and summer vacations, even more so after Voldemort had returned at the end of fourth year. Whenever Thaddeus had been punished or felt pressured by his Master, he took out his frustration on his wife and son, and his abuse had escalated to the point where Theodore had been relieved when his father, along with most of the other Death Eaters, had been arrested at the end of fifth year--and had been terrified when they escaped. Lying alone in the dark, those old fears and memories returned, and he suddenly wished that Dylan was here; perhaps he was being punished for his earlier selfish thoughts.

He chided himself for being stupid, like a child afraid of the dark--something his father would definitely have punished. Theodore's sleep, not surprisingly, had always been haunted by nightmares, especially after he had witnessed his uncle's murder. But he had quickly learned that crying or screaming during these nightmares would wake his father and bring about a swift and painful punishment: a dutiful son did not disturb his parents' rest, and a future Death Eater did not cry or scream over something as harmless and foolish as a dream; a future Death Eater did not cry, period. 

So he learned to bear the nightmares quietly; he might wake up suddenly in the middle of the night, shaking with fear, but he did it silently. And the nightmares had abated during his time at Hogwarts, where he felt safer and more secure, at least until his father had escaped from prison. He had woken up Blaise a few times with his nightmares, and been comforted by his lover's presence, but had also felt ashamed to be caught in a moment of weakness, even by someone he trusted. It had also complicated things, because he couldn't tell Blaise what the nightmares were about, for his own safety.

Well, it was safe now. Maybe when they had some time alone together, he would talk to Blaise about it. He remembered his promise to himself earlier this summer, that he would tell Blaise the truth about his family and the Death Eaters, all the things that he had been unable to talk about earlier. They had not really talked much during Blaise's visit; they had been alone only for that short time in the woods, and they had not exactly spent much time talking...Theodore smiled at the memory of their tryst. Well, the important thing was that Blaise still loved him and understood that he had been trying to protect him from the Death Eaters; the rest could wait.

But Theodore still felt lonely and afraid of the dark--or more precisely, of the dreams and memories that seemed to be lurking there for him, as silly as that sounded. He wished he knew a spell that would chase away nightmares...and then an idea occurred to him. A Patronus was supposed to be a guardian and protector of sorts...

He took out his wand, closed his eyes, and concentrated on one of his happiest memories: the first time Blaise had kissed him, and the incredulous joy he felt at that moment, knowing that Blaise returned his feelings. "Expecto Patronum," he whispered, and his Patronus appeared. The silvery light the weasel gave off was comforting, and his fears receded, as if banished by the light. He sighed with relief, lay back down on the bed, and closed his eyes and fell asleep with the silver weasel curled up at the foot of the bed, watching over its master protectively.

But the Patronus was an enchantment, not a real beast, and when Theodore fell asleep and stopped concentrating on the spell, it gradually began to dissipate...

Theodore dreamed that he was on the battlefield again, and saw Voldemort with his skull-like face and glowing red eyes smile menacingly and make a beckoning gesture. He turned to run but his father grabbed him, saying, "It's you or me, Theodore." Theodore managed to break free of his grasp and run away, but blocking his path was the house-elf servant that Thaddeus had killed. Its flesh was rotting and falling from its bones, but it stood upright and slowly shambled forward towards Theodore, saying in a hollow voice, "You let him kill me."

"No!" Theodore protested, taking a step backwards. "It wasn't my fault! There was nothing I could do!"

The house-elf transformed into Rafe Dietrich, who looked at his nephew with accusing eyes. "Why did you let him kill me, Theo?"

"I'm sorry," Theodore whimpered, backing away from his uncle's corpse, which slowly shuffled forward in much the same the way the house-elf had. "I was scared he'd kill me too!"

"You let him kill me," Rafe repeated, his cold, dead eyes exhibiting none of the compassion or warmth they had shown in life. 

"I'm sorry," Theodore sobbed, stumbling backwards as his uncle lifted a hand and reached out towards him. "I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry..."

*** 

Upstairs, Lupin and Snape had just finished making love, and Lupin picked up his wand from the nightstand and removed the silence spell from the room, then snuggled up against his lover, sighing contentedly.

"What, not up for another round tonight?" Snape chuckled, stroking his hair affectionately. "That's unusual."

Werewolves, when not incapacitated by the illness of the transformation, were stronger than normal humans, and Snape and Lupin had discovered that a werewolf's appetite and stamina in the bedroom were also apparently greater than the average human's...at least, that was what Snape assumed. Lupin was the only werewolf he had ever slept with, and Lupin had once half-jokingly, half-threateningly said that he wasn't about to let Snape fool around with other werewolves, even for the purpose of scientific research. Their lovemaking was often intense and passionate, and sometimes rough and frenzied, fueled by the wolf's desires, but tonight it had been tender and gentle and unhurried, though still just as pleasurable as it always was.

Lupin laughed and snuggled a little closer, resting his head on Snape's chest. "No, the wolf seems content just to cuddle tonight. It feels very satisfied, almost smug, these days, perhaps because it finally has a pack to belong to, and a mate and cubs. That is all it wants. That is all I want. The wolf has no need for power or wealth or status. Sometimes I think beasts are wiser than humans."

"Perhaps," Snape agreed, and Lupin kissed him, lightly at first, then more deeply, and despite what he had just said, thought he might be up for a second round after all. Then suddenly he broke off the kiss and raised his head, frowning. "Lupin," Snape said in a protesting tone.

"Shh!" Lupin hissed. "Listen, do you hear that?"

Snape fell silent and listened. "I don't hear anything."

Lupin's hearing was not as keen as it when he was in his wolf form, but it was still better than that of a normal human. Even so, the sound was just barely audible...a soft whimper, or perhaps a sob? "I think it's Theodore," he said.

"What?" Snape exclaimed, sitting up in alarm and reaching for his wand. "Is there an intruder in the house? Is he sick or hurt?"

"The wards on the house haven't given off any alarms," Lupin replied. "I don't think it's anything drastic; it sounds like he might be having a bad dream."

"Oh," Snape said, relaxing a little. "Well, that's not so surprising, considering everything he's been through. Should we go check on him?"

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," Lupin said. They hastily dressed and went downstairs. "Lumos," Lupin said, and the bedroom light came on, revealing Theodore curled up on his bed, trembling and whimpering softly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept whimpering, in a voice no louder than a whisper. "Please, Uncle, I'm sorry..."

Lupin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and gently shook him. "Theo...Theo, wake up, you're having a bad dream..."

Theodore woke abruptly and cried out in fear, throwing himself back away from Lupin so quickly that it almost seemed like he had Apparated. Still not fully awake, he lunged for his wand on the nightstand, but Snape was quicker, and summoned it to his hand with an Accio spell. He had not precisely been expecting this, but as a former Death Eater, he knew that suddenly waking a wizard trained in the Dark Arts could be dangerous.

"Theodore!" Lupin said, grasping his foster son firmly by the shoulders as he struggled to break free. "Theodore, it's me, Remus! It's all right, you were having a nightmare!"

"R...Remus?" Theodore stammered, his eyes losing some of their fear as they focused on Lupin's face.

"Yes," Lupin said soothingly, "it's me, Remus. Were you having a bad dream?"

"Yeah," Theodore mumbled, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Oh, Severus and I were already up," Lupin said cheerfully. Theodore groaned inwardly and blushed; that was even worse! He hoped that he hadn't...interrupted...them, but he probably had, judging by the way Snape's face was reddening. Lupin seemed oblivious to their discomfort and continued, "I doubt that anyone else would have heard you, but werewolves have very keen hearing, you see..."

"Oh," Theodore said, still blushing. "Well, I'm sorry. For, um, disturbing you."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Lupin said kindly. "Would you like to talk about your dream?"

"No, not really," Theodore replied. "Listen, I'm okay now. I'm sor--I mean, thanks for checking up on me, but you can go back to bed now."

But he was still pale, and despite his words, didn't look as if he wanted them to go. So Lupin said cheerfully, "Well, I'm not really tired, and you probably don't feel like going back to sleep right away, do you?" Theodore looked surprised, but nodded. "When I was a child," Lupin continued, "I often had nightmares about being taken over by the wolf within me and hurting the people I loved. I used to lie awake for a long time afterwards, because I feared the nightmares would return when I went back to sleep."

Theodore nodded again, feeling a little reassured that Lupin understood how he felt. "Yeah, it takes me awhile to get back to sleep, too," he admitted.

"Do you have these nightmares often, then?" Lupin asked casually.

"Not often," Theodore said, flushing; he hadn't meant to let slip the fact that the his nightmares were a frequent occurrence. "Just sometimes, after the Death Eaters escaped last year...but I haven't had them recently. Not since coming to live here."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Theo," Lupin said softly.

"The Death Eaters are enough to give anyone nightmares," Snape said in a gruff but not unkind voice, placing a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "Believe me, I know."

Theodore's eyes went wide--Snape had nightmares?! Well, that wasn't really so surprising, he supposed, since Snape had been with them since the old days, during the first war, and he had probably seen things much worse than the ones Theodore had. Except...was witnessing the murder and torture of numerous strangers worse than seeing the murder of one person you loved dearly? "I dreamt about Rafe," Theodore whispered. "He was asking me why I let him die."

"Oh, Theodore," Lupin said, his eyes filling with sympathy and worry, "that wasn't your fault."

"You didn't let him die," Snape said firmly. "An eight-year old child would have been no match for a full-grown Death Eater. You would do better to blame Marta, who didn't lift a finger to defend her own brother, or the Ministry for not investigating Rafe's disappearance."

"Severus!" Lupin snapped reproachfully. He wasn't sure that blaming the boy's dead mother would help matters any. 

Snape just gave him an unrepentant glare; as a Slytherin and former Death Eater, he was not inclined to be very forgiving towards anyone, including himself, and he had no sympathy for a mother who failed to protect her child.

Theodore smiled a little, despite the bitter reminder of Marta's failings as a sister and a mother, because Snape was, in his own way, trying to comfort him. He might not be as good at it as Lupin was, but he was touched by the effort. "I'm okay now," he said, more sincerely this time. "Really." He didn't think he would ever completely be free of the guilt that haunted him, but it had eased to a tolerable level for now.

"Well, I'm still not sleepy," Lupin said. "How about a game of cards before we go back to bed?"

So they played cards until Theodore started yawning, then Lupin tucked him into bed, pulling the covers up over him; no one had done that since he was about seven or eight and his father had told his mother to "stop coddling the boy or we'll never make a man of him!" Lupin turned out the lights, but Theodore noticed that his guardians remained in the room, watching over him. Feeling safe and protected--a relatively new feeling for him--he closed his eyes, and this time his sleep was peaceful and free of troubling dreams.

He woke early the next morning, and noticed that Lupin was sprawled out on Dylan's bed, while Snape was sleeping in a chair he had pulled up next to Theodore's bed; that could not have been a very comfortable place to have spent the night. 

Apparently he was right; Snape stirred, winced, and groaned softly, and Theodore quickly shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He heard Snape rise and whisper, "Lupin! Lupin, wake up, it's morning."

"Is Theo all right?" Lupin whispered.

"Yes, shh, he's sleeping; don't wake him. Come on, let's go upstairs."

Theodore felt a gentle hand touch his hair for a moment; he wasn't sure if it was Lupin or Snape, but it didn't really matter. He heard the sound of footsteps going up the stairs and the door quietly being closed, then he drifted back to sleep, a contented smile on his face.

When he woke up again and went upstairs for breakfast, Lupin greeted him cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened last night. But he noticed that both Lupin and Snape watched over him solicitously all day, which embarrassed him but made him happy at the same time. He passed the day quietly, studying or playing chess with Snape, and working on building a set of bookshelves with Lupin.

"I noticed that you and Dylan had your books piled up on the floor," Lupin said apologetically. "We were too busy to install some shelves before you moved in, and then I completely forgot about it."

"It's no big deal, Professor," Theodore said, flushing. Lupin didn't go down to the basement very often, allowing the boys their privacy, so he knew that the reason Lupin had come down and noticed the lack of shelves last night was because of Theodore's nightmare.

"It's a simple project," Lupin said cheerfully. "It shouldn't take long." It didn't, and they soon had the books neatly put away on the new shelves.

"It would have been easier to put them together with magic," Snape pointed out in a sour tone that seemed to be habit rather than real annoyance.

"I enjoy working with my hands," Lupin said with a smile. "Sometimes it's more satisfying to do things without magic. Don't you agree, Theo?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, and was surprised to find that he meant it. His father would be absolutely scandalized to see his son performing "manual labor," Theodore realized almost gleefully. Working with his hands, living with a gay couple, one of whom was a werewolf--he was an absolute disgrace to the Nott name, and he didn't care one bit.

The day passed by pleasantly, but he had trouble falling asleep again that night, so he was still awake when Lupin and Snape crept downstairs to check up on him, although he pretended to be asleep, breathing slowly and evenly to keep up the charade.

"Sound asleep," Snape whispered, sounding relieved. "Good. I was afraid I'd have to brew a Draught of Peace for him."

Lupin pulled up the blankets and tucked him in more securely, then gently stroked Theodore's cheek and whispered, "Sleep well, Theo." Then he and Snape quietly headed back up the stairs and left.

After that, Theodore had no more trouble sleeping at night, so when Snape and Lupin paid him a midnight visit again the next night, he really did sleep through it.

*** 

Dylan was happy to see his aunt and uncle again, and they were delighted to see him. He gave Goewin the gifts from Snape and Lupin, and she accepted them appreciatively.

"You must thank them for me, Dylan. The tonic will come in handy and the mobile is delightful. I'll go hang it up over Ariana's crib right now."

"It's a peace offering, at least on Professor's Snape's behalf," Dylan said with a mischievous grin. "He thinks you're still mad at him."

"Oh, I wasn't mad at him," Goewin said, looking a little shamefaced, then confessed sheepishly, "Well, maybe just a little. It's just because it came as such a shock; we had been expecting that you would keep on living with us, but as long as you're happy, it's fine."

"You have an overabundance of people who love you," Math said, smiling fondly at his great-nephew.

"I know," Dylan said in a more serious tone. "I'm very lucky."

"You are happy with Severus and Remus, aren't you?" Goewin asked anxiously.

"Yes," Dylan said, smiling. "I'm very happy. They've been good to me and Theo. But I'm happy to see you again, too." He gave his aunt a hug. "I'm lucky to have two homes."

He enjoyed spending time with his aunt and uncle; Goewin in particular fussed over him lovingly the entire time he was there. He also enjoyed spending time with his new baby cousin. 

Ariana sat his on lap, gazing up at him with solemn silver-gray eyes that seemed older and wiser than a baby's should. He made silly faces at her and bounced her on his knee, and finally won a small smile and laugh from her. "She seems very quiet and well-behaved," Dylan observed. "My classmates who have younger siblings all complain about how much trouble babies can be."

Goewin smiled. "She's a very good baby; she almost never cries. But she's a very unusual baby; she is a Seer, after all, as young as she is." She bent down and kissed her daughter on the top of her head, and Ariana cooed happily at her.

Ariana proved that Goewin was telling the truth in a most dramatic way. Dylan took her out for a walk one afternoon, pointing out flowers and birds and butterflies to her along the way. She remained quiet and serious as always, but seemed to observe everything around her with great interest. He paused under an apple tree; he had often climbed it as a little boy, and when he was older, often sat beneath it to read a book on a nice sunny summer day such as this.

"Look, Ari," he said, "do you see that bird's nest up there?" Dylan said, pointing up at the branches, but suddenly Ariana started fussing and squirming. "Hey, stop that!" he said, tightening his grip on her. "Do you want me to drop you?" She continued struggling and began crying loudly, and Dylan grew worried. "Are you sick or something? I'd better get you back in the house. It's a good thing the Professor brewed that tonic for you." He turned and started walking back towards the house, then jumped when he heard a loud crash behind him. A large, heavy branch had broken off from the tree and landed on the exact spot where he had been standing a moment ago.

Math and Dylan had seen this through the window, and came running out to meet him. "Dylan!" Goewin shouted. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Dylan said in a shaky voice. "Thanks to Ariana." His cousin had stopped fussing as soon as he'd moved away from the tree, and was gazing up at him calmly once again.

Math looked up at the tree. "There was a thunderstorm a few days ago, and I saw a bolt of lightning strike the tree. I didn't notice any damage at the time, but it must have weakened that branch, not enough to break it off immediately, but enough so that it gradually gave way beneath its own weight."

"Ariana kept crying until I walked away from the tree," Dylan said, staring at the baby in awe. "She must have been trying to warn me! You saved my life, little cousin." He kissed her on the cheek and then grinned. "How about that, less than two months old and already you're a better Seer than Professor Trelawney!"

Dylan also had the bittersweet task of going through his mother's things. "Are you sure you want to do this now, dear?" Goewin asked gently.

"Yes," Dylan said, looking pale but determined as he entered his mother's room. There was not a great deal to pack up, as Ariane had been entitled to none of the Donner wealth, jewels, or heirlooms after her mother disowned her. There was a jewelry box filled with some delicate silver filigree necklaces, bracelets, and earrings--mainly gifts from Evan Rosier, except for the silver rose pendant Dylan had given her last Christmas; he wept a little when he saw it. He put the jewelry back in the box and locked it. He would store it away for now; perhaps someday he would give it to his wife or daughter, if he had one. 

He packed away most of her books to take back home with him--spellbooks, history books, and novels. He also packed the silver-framed photo of his father that Ariane had always kept on the nightstand beside her bed, and the scrapbooks and photo albums that she rarely took out, because they brought back old memories that made her weep. But he was free to leaf through them now: there were pictures of her as a schoolgirl with her Ravenclaw classmates, including his friend Lisa Turpin's mother, and of course there were pictures of her posing with Evan. 

She looked so young and beautiful, and carefree in a way that he had never seen her, because by the time he had been born, she had been burdened by her family's disownment and her lover's death. His father looked young, handsome, and rakishly charming, with a sly, mischievous gleam in his eyes in nearly all the pictures. There were also pictures of Evan's best friend Lyall Wilkes, a sandy-haired boy who had a cheerful, good-natured smile on his face in all the photos. He didn't look like the sort of person who would become a Death Eater, who would take pleasure in torturing and killing people. 

Then he found another photo album tucked away in the back of her closet, one she had never shown him. He opened it and to his shock, saw that they were pictures of the Donner family. There pictures of Uncle Math, of course, but there was also a picture of Deirdre holding a baby Ariane on her lap, smiling lovingly in a way that Dylan had not known that she had been capable of, since she had shown him nothing but contempt his entire life. There was another photo of Deirdre posing with a handsome but pale and sickly-looking young man who must be his grandfather, who had died before Dylan was born. There were pictures of his uncles, Gwydion and Gilbert, who looked like normal, mischievous young boys, with none of the arrogance they had shown later in life. There was a photo of Gwydion tossing little Ariane up in the air as she laughed delightedly, and another of Gilbert carrying his sister on his shoulders. In all the photos of them and Ariane posing together, they smiled at their little sister adoringly.

_They loved her,_ Dylan realized, staring at the photos in disbelief. How could that have changed so suddenly, how could they have turned against her, so utterly and completely, just because she fell in love with a Slytherin boy? No wonder Ariane had hated them so much; she must have felt incredibly hurt and betrayed when her doting family abruptly withdrew their love and disowned her. But a part of her must have still loved them, because she had kept the photo album, and because she had tried to save Gilbert from their mother's Killing Curse during the final battle. And Gilbert, whom Dylan had always hated, had saved Goewin from Voldemort, so perhaps he had not been completely evil. Dylan looked at the boy in the photo, and wondered what had changed him from the loving brother into the man who had become a rapist and a Death Eater. Dylan sat there staring at the photos and began to weep.

Goewin sat beside him and put an arm around him. "Are you all right, dear?"

"They loved her," Dylan whispered.

Goewin understood what he meant without his needing to explain any further. "Yes, they did," she said sadly. "The entire family doted on Ariane, especially her brothers. They called her 'Princess' and pampered her like one; spoiled her rotten, in fact. They weren't always as you knew them, Dylan. I loved Gilbert once, as a friend. Perhaps I could have loved him as something more, if he had been willing to wait until the war was over and my powers were no longer needed."

"We could have been a family," Dylan wept. "We could have been happy together." He could have loved his uncles and grandmother, if they had remained the way they were in these pictures. He had hated them all his life, but now he mourned what-might-have-been, having been given a tantalizing glimpse into a future that would now never come to pass. "How could they give all that up, cast aside my mother when they loved her so much, just because she fell in love with a boy they didn't like?"

Goewin sighed and held him close. "Because they were rigid and narrow-minded, as much as the Death Eaters were, in a way. Because Deirdre was a proud and stubborn woman who could not stand to see anyone defy her, even her own flesh and blood--especially her own flesh and blood. Because they loved deeply, and hated just as deeply when they believed they had been betrayed. They believed your mother betrayed them when she went against their wishes. And Deirdre hated all Slytherins, because she believed one was responsible for her best friend's death."

"Professor Blackmore's father," Dylan said, still weeping.

"Yes, although poor Meredith was clearly just as much a victim as Fiona, since Voldemort murdered them both. It was typical of Deirdre not to just hate the man, but everyone in the House he belonged to, past, present, and future." She held Dylan as he wept, and said, "I'm so sorry, Dylan. I can't give back what you have lost, but remember that you do still have a family that loves you. Two families, in fact: Math, Ariana, and myself, and Remus and Severus."

"And Theo," Dylan added.

"And Theo," Goewin said, kissing his forehead.

"Theo and I are related by blood, you know," Dylan said, smiling through his tears. "We're cousins, sort of. I saw it on his family tree. And there's a Donner on Professor Blackmore's family tree!"

"We're all related, to some degree," Goewin said with a smile. "It's too bad that Deirdre couldn't see that." She kissed him again. "Remember, Dylan, even though you live with Severus and Remus now, you will always have a home here, too."

"I know," Dylan said, hugging her tightly. "Thank you."

He finished packing up the books and photo albums, and after some hesitation, left her robes and gowns hanging up in the closet. He had no use for them, but he couldn't bear to throw them out or give them away just yet. Maybe someday his hypothetical daughter or a grown-up Ariana could use them, if they weren't hopelessly out of fashion by then. There was one last item left, a small wooden box engraved with a design of flowers, which had been hidden in the back of the closet along with Ariane's family photo album. It was sealed with a warding spell, but Dylan was able to remove it, and he opened the box to find a packet of letters. 

When he looked at them, he discovered they were love letters from Evan to Ariane, written while they had been students at Hogwarts. After a moment of guilty hesitation, he began reading them. The first few were innocuous enough, with Evan extravagantly praising his beloved's beauty, and writing florid poetry declaring his undying love for her. One of the letters was filled with rose petals, which still gave off a faint, lingering sweet smell. Dylan smiled; Professor Snape was right--Evan Rosier had definitely been a ladies' man! But the tone of the letters began to change as the relationship between Evan and Ariane grew more serious--in fact, things became downright heated! Dylan blushed deeply, feeling his cheeks burn, and quickly put the letters back in the box. As much as he wanted to learn more about his father, there were just some things that a boy should not know about his mother! He had read the letter only briefly before becoming too embarrassed to continue, but it seemed that his parents had been just as passionate about each other as Lupin and Snape were. He wondered if Snape had ever written love letters to Lupin, then winced; he probably wouldn't want to read those either!

Dylan packed the box along with the other things; even though he would probably never read the rest of the letters, he would keep them, as a reminder of how much his parents had loved each other.

On the last day of his visit, Dylan kissed his aunt, uncle, and cousin goodbye. Goewin shed a tear or two as she kissed him on the cheek, and he was a little sad to be leaving them, but he was also happy to be going back home.

Dylan stepped out of the fireplace into the Lupin's cottage, and he barely had a chance to put his things down before Lupin ran forward to give him a hug and say, "Welcome home, Dylan!"

"Thanks, Remus, it's good to be back!" Dylan said with a grin, hugging him back.

Snape actually smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and said gruffly, "Good to have you back, Rosier." And to his surprise, Theo flung his arms around him and hugged him, saying, "I'm glad you're back, Dylan!"

Dylan laughed. "I was only gone for a few days; did you guys really miss me that much?"

"Of course we missed you," Lupin said with a smile. "The family isn't complete without you."

Dylan smiled back at him, feeling pleased and touched. "So what were you guys up to while I was gone?"

"Come downstairs and see the shelves Remus and I made," Theodore urged.

"Okay," Dylan said, "and I want to show you some pictures of my father that I found, going through my mother's things."

The boys ran downstairs, and Lupin and Snape grinned at each other, happy to have their family together again.

*** 

Soon after Dylan returned home, they had their friends over for another visit, and Theodore and Blaise were able to sneak off into the woods for a little time alone. Theo was finally able to tell Blaise some of the things he had kept hidden over the years: his uncle's murder, what he knew of the Death Eaters, and what his life at home had been like. It wasn't easy; the memories were still painful, and a lifetime of keeping secrets was difficult to overcome, but when his voice began to falter, Blaise would put his arms around him and hold him tightly, and Theodore found himself able to continue.

Theodore finished talking and fell silent, and Blaise said softly, "I'm sorry, Theo. I had no idea things were that bad for you at home."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but I just wish there was something I could have done..."

Theodore smiled a little, although his eyes were still grave. "You did. I could endure those summers at home because I knew I'd be coming back to Hogwarts and to you in the fall. You gave me..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Something to believe in, something to fight for. If I hadn't wanted to protect you, maybe I would have just given in and become a Death Eater like my father wanted."

"I don't believe that!" Blaise said fiercely, pulling him close. "You're a good person; you'd never have become a Death Eater!"

"I didn't want to," Theodore said in a low voice. "But I was scared of my father, too scared to fight him..."

"But you did, in the end," Blaise reminded him gently. "You put yourself at risk to keep me safe, and you fought the Death Eaters in the end." He kissed Theodore. "I love you, Theo. You'll never be alone again; I'll always be here for you from now on."

"Always?" Theodore whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

"Always," Blaise said firmly, kissing him again.

"What about your family?" Theodore asked uncertainly. "They'll want you to get married someday; they won't like it when they find out about us..."

Blaise sighed unhappily. "No, they won't," he admitted. "My dad especially will be furious, but they'll come around eventually." Theodore gave him a dubious look. "Really. There'll be a lot of shouting and screaming, but when they see that I won't change my mind, they'll give in. They're good people, Theo, just a little narrow-minded, but they'll like you when they get to know you."

"Right," Theodore said skeptically.

"Well, they can hardly object, since their marriage was a love-match," Blaise insisted, then he grinned. "And Professors Lupin and Snape have already scandalized the wizarding community; by the time we go public, maybe we'll seem tame in comparison!" Theodore laughed in spite of himself, and Blaise looked relieved. "Besides," he teased, "they should be happy that my lover is a rich pureblood heir!"

"Perfect, except that I'm the wrong sex," Theodore said dryly.

Blaise laughed and kissed him. "You're just right for me!" he insisted. He hesitated, then said in a more serious tone, "I think we should wait until after graduation to tell them, though. If we tell them now, they'll make a big fuss and try to make Professor Snape give me a new roommate again. And if we have jobs and a place of our own, it won't matter if my dad kicks me out of the house--"

"He'd do that?" Theodore asked, looking concerned; he knew how much Blaise loved his family.

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe. My father doesn't get angry very often, but when he does, it's like a volcano exploding. But he doesn't stay mad for long. In fact, it would probably be a good idea for me to move out for at least a few weeks to give him a chance to cool down." He grinned. "And for my family to miss me. Don't worry; my mother won't let my father disinherit her baby boy no matter what I do. And Allegra likes you; I'm sure she'll be on our side. You've seen how persuasive she is--she'll wear Father down eventually."

"Okay," Theodore said. He wasn't sure that Blaise's family would come around as easily as he claimed they would, and he was relieved to be able to put off that confrontation for another year.

*** 

One day in the latter half of July, an owl brought Lupin a letter. "Hmm," he said as he read it, raising his eyebrows.

"Who is it from, Lupin?" Snape asked curiously.

"It's from Lukas," Lupin replied. "He says he needs my advice about something."

"Lukas?" Dylan asked, his eyes widening. "Lukas Bleddri, the werewolf leader?" 

"The very same," Lupin said with a smile. His reluctant ally had gained a measure of fame in the Daily Prophet after Rita Skeeter had potrayed the werewolves as heroes in her series of articles on the war. Lupin still wondered what Hermione had over the reporter to make her write honest, even sympathetic, portrayals of the Order and their allies.

"What sort of advice?" Snape asked, frowning a little.

"I don't know; he doesn't say." Lupin wrote a reply inviting his werewolf friend over for tea. 

Lukas showed up the following afternoon, looking as feral and disreputable as ever. Lupin poured some tea for everyone, then he, Lukas, and Snape sat down together at the kitchen table while Dylan and Theodore played a game of chess in the living room, surreptitiously trying to listen in on the adults' conversation.

"You said you had something you wanted to discuss with me, Lukas?" Lupin asked.

"Yes," Lukas said, scowling down into his tea cup. "Dumbledore's offered me a position at Hogwarts."

"What?!" exclaimed Snape.

Lupin looked equally surprised, but smiled and said, "Why, that's wonderful, Lukas!"

"The very idea's ridiculous, Lupin!" Lukas protested, looking offended, outraged, and bewildered all at the same time. "Me, a teacher?!"   
Lupin grinned. "Why Lukas, you have faced down the Death Eaters without flinching; don't tell me that you're daunted by the thought of a classroom full of children!"

"I don't blame him," Snape muttered sympathetically, even though he didn't like the werewolf very much. "Who in their right mind would want to teach a bunch of noisy, insolent brats?"

"You and I would, for starters," Lupin pointed out.

"I didn't exactly have many job offers after the first war was over," Snape retorted sourly. "And as a spy, I needed to remain close to Dumbledore so that I'd be able to pass on information to him."

"But the war, and your role as a spy, have ended," Lupin said patiently. "You could resign if you wanted to, but you haven't. And I know for a fact that Mr. Jigger offered to make you a partner in his apothecary shop; he has no heir, and he's worried about who will take it over after he retires."

Snape, who had just taken a sip of tea, choked and spluttered, "How did you find out about that?!"

"Oh, Mr. Jigger told me," Lupin replied cheerfully. "I stopped by his shop to discuss some business regarding the Wolfsbane Potion distribution program, and he told me that he was disappointed that you turned him down, but he understood that we would want to remain at Hogwarts together."

Snape groaned, "Is everyone and his mother gossiping about my love life?!"

Lupin continued serenely, "But if you really wanted to take him up on his offer, we could have worked something out. We could still have lived together at Hogwarts, and you could've used the Floo Network to commute to work. I think the real reason you turned him down was because you love teaching, no matter how much you complain about it."

"Your Gryffindor imagination is working overtime, Lupin," Snape snarled, his face turning red. "You haven't been ingesting any of my potion ingredients, have you? Hellebore has narcotic properties, you know..."

"Well then it must be me that you love," Lupin said with a mischievous grin. "So much that you can't bear to be parted from me, even to be rid of those noisy, insolent brats."

Snape's face turned even redder. "Oh, shut up, Lupin!" he snapped, unable to come up with a more witty retort.

"Excuse me," Lukas said, a little peevishly. "This is all very entertaining, but can we get back to discussing _my_ problem?"

"I don't see what the problem is," Lupin said calmly. "Most werewolves would jump at the chance to take a stable, respectable, well-paying job."

"But I'm not respectable!" Lukas wailed in an almost plaintive manner.

"There is already one werewolf on the staff," Lupin said patiently, "not to mention a former Death Eater. Dumbledore isn't overly concerned about respectability."

Snape was still fuming, but curiosity got the better of him. "What exactly is it that the old man wants you to teach?" he asked Lukas.

"Karasu has gone back to Japan with Chizuru," Lukas said sullenly. "But Dumbledore wants to continue the lessons in Physical Defense, and he's talking about creating something called Interspecies Relations or some other such nonsense! He's already got one pet werewolf to promote open-mindedness; what does he need me for?!"

Lupin did not take offense at being called a "pet werewolf". "You are a warrior," he pointed out helpfully. "I think you are well-qualified to take over Karasu's class, at least, although I agree that you are certainly no diplomat."

"I'm no martial artist or master strategist like the crow!" Lukas argued. "The kind of fighting I'm familiar with has no rules, and you use every dirty trick you can think of, if necessary, to keep your opponent from killing you!"

"Which might well be more valuable than formal, ritualized martial arts lessons," Snape said thoughtfully. "Although Karasu seemed to be an effective teacher."

"I'm a street rat, not a Professor!" Lukas continued, ignoring Snape. "What is Dumbledore thinking?!"

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he looked at the werewolf leader closely. "You may look like a common thug--" he started to say.

"Gee, thanks, Snape," Lukas said sarcastically. "I think the world of you, too."

"--but you don't speak like one," Snape finished. "And you don't really act like one, despite your rough manner." Lukas began to regard the Potions Master with an air of wariness, and just a touch of fear. "I have no doubt that you have spent many years living on the street, and that you are just as dangerous as you appear to be, but you speak like an educated man, beneath that veneer of a street rat, as you put it. You are more farsighted, and have more knowledge of pureblood politics than your average thug or gang leader."

"And Bleddri isn't his real name," Dylan said suddenly, looking up from his chess game with Theodore.

Snape, Lupin, and Theodore all looked startled. "What do you mean?" Lupin asked.

"Bleddri is a given name, not a surname," Dylan replied. "It's an old Welsh name that means 'leader of the outlaws'. 'Blaidd' means 'wolf' and 'rhi' means 'king' in Welsh, so the literal translation would be 'wolf king'."

The werewolf glared at him, and Dylan was suddenly reminded that Snape had told him on more than one occasion, "You are too clever for your own good, Rosier."

Snape chuckled, a low wicked-sounding laugh that sent shivers up and down Lupin's spine. His blue eyes went a little glassy, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, but fortunately, no one noticed, because everyone's attention was fixed on Dylan and Lukas.

"Clever lad," Lukas said dryly; he didn't make it sound like a compliment.

"Isn't he, though?" Snape said proudly, and beckoned for Dylan to join them. Dylan walked over to the kitchen table, but stood behind Snape's chair, prudently keeping the Potions Master between himself and the werewolf leader; Theodore seemed content to watch from a safe distance. "What else can you infer from your observation, Mr. Rosier?" Snape asked, as if they were discussing a Potions experiment in the classroom.

"Merlin's Beard, Snape, you sound like a teacher even when you're at home!" Lukas interjected, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "I think Remus is right about you and teaching, after all!"

Snape shot a quick glare his way, but otherwise ignored him. "Well, Mr. Rosier?" he asked.

Dylan thought over Snape's question as carefully as he would have in Potions class. "I would say that Mr. Bleddri chose his surname for its meaning, obviously. It's not a common name these days, and not many people outside of Wales speak Welsh. So I would surmise that either his family is Welsh, or that he spent a significant amount of time in Wales; perhaps both. But he doesn't have a Welsh accent, so he probably hasn't lived there for many years."

Lupin had managed to get his inner wolf under control--although he was looking forward to getting Severus alone later after Lukas left--and laughed and said, "Well done, Dylan! If we were in school, I would award ten points to Slytherin!"

"Twenty," Snape corrected, pretending to be offended. "No need to be so stingy, Lupin. Hmm...so what prominent pureblood families live in Wales? The Donners...the Gravenors--although they fell into disgrace after Anwir was revealed to be a Death Eater..." Anwir Gravenor had been one of the Death Eaters who had attempted to murder Branwen near the end of the first war; his death had exposed his status as a Death Eater and brought shame upon his family--although it had taken the Aurors awhile to identify his body, since it had been found in pieces...

Lukas scowled at him. "You seem very sure that I'm a pureblood, Severus."

"You have a contempt for the purebloods that is bred of familiarity," Snape replied, staring back at him coolly. "And why else would you need to change your name?"

Lukas gave him a feral, humorless grin. "If I come from a pureblood family and I have such contempt for them, wouldn't I keep my surname just to spite them?"

"They wouldn't let you, and you know it," Snape said gravely. "My own family disowned me at the slightest threat of their name being dishonored, and I was never arrested, nor charged, nor put on trial. Barty Crouch sent his own son to Azkaban to protect his family name. I have no doubt that some of the more ruthless purebloods would not hesitate to permanently remove a potential stain to their precious family honor."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Lukas said softly, his yellow-green eyes filled with bitterness.

Lupin frowned. "Wait a minute; Lukas is about our age, but I don't remember ever seeing him at Hogwarts as a child..."

Dylan looked at the werewolf leader closely; he did appear to be somewhere in his late thirties, about the same age as Snape and Lupin, give or take a few years. He could be younger or older than he looked, Dylan supposed, but his hair wasn't streaked with gray like Lupin's was, or maybe it just blended in less noticeably with his blond hair.

"I never went to Hogwarts," Lukas said. "Which ruins your theory about me being an educated man, Snape."

"You don't need to go to Hogwarts to get an education," Dylan said, earning another glare from the werewolf. "I was tutored at home until I was thirteen. There was little to do on the estate but study, and when I finally entered Hogwarts, I found I was at the same level as my classmates, or even a little beyond them, in some cases."

Lupin looked thoughtful. "If not for the Headmaster's compassion, I would have been educated at home and brought up in isolation." He frowned again; if Dumbledore had gone out of his way to admit Lupin to Hogwarts, wouldn't he have done the same for Lukas? He might not have felt so much like an outsider and a misfit if there had been another werewolf at school with him...

"Perhaps his parents didn't want him to go to Hogwarts," Dylan said, with a speculative look in his eyes. "Maybe they were afraid people might find out his secret." Lukas flinched, just a little, and his face went red with anger. _Bingo,_ Dylan thought, but did not say it out loud because the werewolf looked like he had reached the end of his patience.

Lupin also noticed the dangerous look in the other werewolf's eyes, and quickly said, "Well, it's not really any of our business."

"That's right," Lukas said firmly, but relaxed a little. He turned to Snape and said sarcastically, "Although I am glad that I was able to entertain you with speculation about my rather dubious pedigree. Your student has a clever, analytical mind; perhaps he will be an investigator or a teacher one day--although he will live longer if he learns when to keep his observations to himself." 

"Was that a threat, Bleddri?" Snape demanded, looking just as feral and dangerous as the werewolf at that moment.

"Merely an observation of my own, Snape," Lukas replied smoothly, then added in a more serious tone, "I've seen too many people--including my own wolves--come to harm for letting their mouths flap too freely. So lower your hackles, Snape--I'm not going to hurt your cub."

Snape continued to glower at Lukas, but the air of tension seemed to disappear from the room. But the werewolf's words left Dylan feeling chastened and a little shaken. "I apologize if I have offended you, Master Bleddri," he said contritely.

Lukas waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, and smiled, a little sardonically, but without any hostility. "I'm not your teacher, yet, boy--you needn't call me 'Master'."

"'Yet,'" Lupin repeated. "Does that mean you're going to take the job, then?"

Lukas frowned, looking more unhappy than angry. "I don't know," he replied.

"Do you want my advice?" Lupin asked. "That is why you came here, after all." Lukas nodded reluctantly. "Then I advise you to take the job."

"Because I should be grateful to be offered a job at all?" Lukas asked, the bitterness returning to his eyes and voice. "For the chance to have a roof over my head and three meals a day?"

"For the chance to make a better life for your people," Lupin said, in a soft but earnest voice. "You--no, we," he corrected himself, "have been living on the fringes of society for years. Living hand-to-mouth, accepting charity, or resorting to illegal methods of earning income." Lukas and his gang were rumored to be thieves, smugglers, and murderers; Lupin did not believe the last, but the first two were probably true, to some extent. Lukas had to feed his pack, and legitimate work was hard to come by for werewolves. "You will inspire your pack and make them proud, I think, by accepting a teaching position at a prestigious school like Hogwarts. And after people grow used to seeing not just one, but two, werewolves in such prominent positions, perhaps employers will be less afraid to hire other werewolves. And the next generation of wizards will grow up less prejudiced, because they will have learned to view us as people, not monsters."

"That's a lot of 'ifs,' Remus," Lukas sighed. "And what about my pack? They need me to look after them."

"It's not like you'll be a prisoner," Lupin told him. "You'll be free to visit them during your off hours and on the weekends. Besides, they're adults, Lukas. Certainly they look to you for guidance and support, but you don't need to baby-sit them. I hear that Arthur has found jobs for some of them, and others are volunteering at the clinics that distribute the Wolfsbane Potion. You will do them more good by becoming a leader in the public eye--or do you want your wolves to live in the shadows for the rest of their lives? This is what you fought for, Lukas; will your throw away the best chance you have to integrate them into society? They spilled their blood in the final battle; will you make their sacrifice for naught?"

Lukas sighed, knowing he had been beaten; if he had been in wolf form, he would have hung his head down and laid back his ears. Still, he made one last protest: "What if I'm a lousy teacher?"

Lupin smiled mischievously. "Could it be that you're afraid of failing, Lukas?"

"I'm not afraid!" Lukas snapped.

_Touchy, touchy,_ Lupin thought with amusement. Lukas could be as prickly as Severus sometimes; perhaps he really did come from a pureblood Slytherin family as Severus claimed. "The mighty pack leader," Lupin said aloud, "who would not bow to Voldemort, admitting defeat at the hands of mere children?" 

Lukas glared at his friend, but before he could make a retort, Snape said impatiently, "For heaven's sake, Bleddri! You can hardly be a worse teacher than Professor Trelawney!"

Dylan and Theodore both snickered. "That's true," Dylan said. Then it belatedly occurred to him that maybe he should not have been annoying his future teacher--particularly one that would be drilling him in physical combat. "I'm sure you'd make a very good teacher," he added, and it was not all blatant flattery. The werewolf was a fascinating if rather intimidating man, and he was sure that Lukas Bleddri would have a number of interesting stories to tell, and whatever else his classes might be, they could certainly not be dull!

Lukas sighed again. "I guess I'll accept the job, then," he said unenthusiastically.

"I suppose I'll have to make the Wolfsbane Potion for him, too," Snape said sourly, sounding rather put out. "Well, I guess it's not that much more work to double the recipe..."

"I can help with the potion," Dylan volunteered.

"Oh, that's just great," Lukas said in a cranky voice. "Turn the potion into a class project and let them poison me by accident..."

"Mr. Rosier and Mr. Nott have already assisted me in brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, and he has suffered no ill effects, as you can see," Snape said coldly. Then he grinned and added, "If I really wanted to poison you, I'd let Potter and Weasley brew the potion..."

"Severus!" Lupin snapped.

Lukas laughed, his mood slightly improved. The two of them really were quite amusing to watch--a good thing, too, since he would apparently be stuck working with them. He rose from his seat and said in a resigned voice, "Well, I'd better go contact Dumbledore. Thanks for the tea, Lupin." He gave Dylan a wide smile that exposed his sharp, almost fang-like canines. "I'll be seeing you in class, Mr. Rosier."

Dylan gulped and went a little pale, then told himself he was overreacting--after all, he had survived both Snape and Blackmore; how much worse could the werewolf be? But just to be on the safe side, he said in a meek and polite voice, "Yes, sir."

"And you, too, Mr. Nott," Lukas said, nodding at Theodore on his way out.

"Uh...yes, sir," Theodore said. He and Dylan exchanged nervous looks. "Well, school should be...interesting...next term."

"Yes, life is never dull at Hogwarts," Lupin said cheerfully.

"That's one way of putting it," Snape muttered sourly.

*** 

Not long after Lukas Bleddri's visit, Snape received a letter from the Patils and the Browns, requesting a meeting. "I don't get paid to work during the summer," Snape grumbled, and would have ignored it, except that he also got a letter from Dumbledore that was worded as a polite request, but was nevertheless an order to meet with the Gryffindor girls' parents.

"The old man ought to pay me overtime," Snape complained as he and Lupin prepared to leave for The Three Broomsticks, where they had arranged to meet the parents. Lupin's presence had not been requested, but he had offered to come along, and Snape supposed it couldn't hurt to have Lupin along as a sort of mediator. Besides, his company would make an unpleasant task slightly less disagreeable.

"Oh, don't be such a grump, Sev," Lupin said cheerfully. "Albus has done a lot for both of us, more than any amount of money could possibly repay." Snape just grunted, which meant that he knew Lupin was right, but he wasn't about to admit it out loud. "And besides," Lupin added, "we can stop by Honeydukes on the way home."

Snape just grunted again, but he looked a bit more cheerful. "I don't know why they want to meet with me, anyway," he said. "Miss Patil and Miss Brown aren't even in my Advanced Potions class."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Lupin said.

"Let's get this over with," Snape sighed.

They Apparated into Hogsmeade, headed to the inn, and joined the Browns and Patils at a booth in the corner, where they were waiting with their daughters. Mr. Brown ordered a round of butterbeer for everyone as the girls stared at Snape nervously. Lupin sipped at his tankard, but Snape ignored his and said brusquely, "Well, what do you want?" Lupin frowned at him and kicked him under the table; Snape scowled at him.

Mrs. Brown said, "The girls would like to be admitted into your Advanced Potions class."

Snape turned his scowl on her. "It's too late for that now. If they had wanted to continue in Potions, they should have applied to my Advanced class and taken their O.W.L.s at the end of their fifth year with all the other candidates."

"But Lavender didn't know she had a Healing Gift back then," Mrs. Brown protested. "She's decided she wants to pursue Healing as a career, and your Potions class is a prerequisite."

"Too bad," Snape said, with a complete lack of sympathy. "No one is allowed into my class unless they pass their Potions O.W.L. It would hardly be fair to the other students if I made exceptions for Miss Brown and Miss Patil--who didn't exactly strike me as outstanding students in my regular Potions classes to begin with."

"Now see here--" Mr. Brown said indignantly, but Mrs. Patil reached out and placed a restraining hand on his arm, and he fell silent, though he still looked rather offended. 

"The Headmaster made special arrangements for them to take the Potions O.W.L. this summer," she said quietly. "Here are the results." 

She handed Snape their exam sheets; he looked them over and raised his eyebrows. "So...it seems that Mr. Potter was not the only one who was giving less than his best effort in Potions. These test scores do not reflect your work in my class, which was always 'Acceptable,' but no better than that." The girls blushed, looking shamefaced. "Why didn't you apply to my Advanced class at the end of fifth year, and why do you want to apply now?"

"Your class was hard," Lavender mumbled, staring down at the table, unable to meet his eyes. "And you were...well...um...ah..."

Snape leaned back and regarded the girls with a look of sardonic humor. "Unfair? Cruel? An ogre?"

"A big meanie?" Lupin suggested helpfully. The girls' faces went even redder.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape said, torn between disgust and laughter. "Is that really what they call me? Honestly, you'd think even a Gryffindor could come up with a better insult than that!"

"Well, you were always unfair to the Gryffindors," Parvati said defensively. "You took points off our House for no reason."

"My dear," Mr. Patil said mildly, "that's no way to ask your Professor for a favor."

"Yes, I was unfair," Snape told Parvati in a cool and unrepentant voice. "Life isn't fair. But you'll notice that it didn't stop Miss Granger from getting good marks in my class. If she had to work twice as hard as the Slytherins to get ahead, she did it, without any whining about unfairness. Even Longbottom, as incompetent as he is, tried his best in my class, which I can respect more than a talented student who merely coasts by, expending only enough effort to get a passing grade."

The girls' mouths dropped open at hearing Snape offer indirect praise to two Gryffindor students that he had always seemed to hate. Lupin grinned widely at him and Snape flushed as the implication of his words belatedly sank in. _Damn it,_ he thought to himself sourly, _I've been spending too much time around the werewolf!_

"We're sorry," Lavender said timidly. "Neither of us were interested in Healing at the time, so we thought it would be easier to drop Potions after fifth year. But now, after taking Professor Chizuru's class and working in the field hospital..."

Snape frowned and regarded them thoughtfully. They had always struck him as being silly and flighty, but Chizuru had reported that they had worked hard during the battle, tending the wounded and defending the makeshift hospital. "I can understand why Miss Brown has changed her mind, but you have no Healing Gift, Miss Patil. Why do you want to join my Potions class? If it's simply to keep Miss Brown company, that's not a good enough reason."

"It's true that Lavender and I are best friends," she said, looking more serious than he had ever seen her, "and that we do everything together. But I want to take the class for my sake, too."

"Do you wish to pursue a medical career?" Snape asked.

She looked at her parents, who sighed heavily. "No, not really," she admitted. "My dream is to run a fashion boutique someday." Snape frowned, and she hurriedly continued, "But that doesn't mean that learning about Potions and Healing isn't important, even if I don't intend to do it for a living. We practiced what Professor Chizuru taught us when we were working with her on the battlefield. If I'm ever in a battle again--" Her parents looked alarmed at that thought. "--or if someone around me gets hurt, say, in an accident, I want to be able to help them. I may not have a Healing Gift like Lavender, but I'll learn as much as I can without it. And I don't need a Gift to study Potions."

"Please, Professor Snape?" Lavender said, and the two girls stared at him with wide, pleading eyes.

Snape was amused by the irony of two Gryffindor students begging to be admitted to his class, but he still had some reservations. "How do I know this is not merely a passing fancy?"

"That's what I thought too, at first," Mrs. Patil said, "but they studied hard for the O.W.L., and they've both been volunteering at St. Mungo's all summer--four hours a day, three days a week, and they haven't missed a day since summer vacation started."

Snape raised an eyebrow, and Lavender said, "We serve meals, change beddings, read to some of the bedridden patients, play with the children who are patients there...that kind of thing."

"Help Professor Lockhart sign autographs," Parvati added with a giggle. 

"They don't let us do any actual Healing, of course," Lavender continued, "since we're still students, but we wanted to show our parents--and you, sir--that we were serious about this."

Snape looked down at their exam sheets one more time. Lupin touched his arm and said, "Severus--"

"This is my decision, Lupin," Snape interrupted curtly, and the girls' faces fell. He gave them his sternest, most sinister Potions Master look, and said, "I can't admit you to my seventh-year class; there's no way you can make up a year's worth of studies over the summer. But..." He paused for dramatic effect. "...I will admit you to my sixth-year class." Their faces lit up and Snape's eyes narrowed as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "This had better not be some kind of ploy to be able to take classes with Mr. Rosier," he warned, upgrading his menacing look and tone of voice from Potions Master to Death Eater.

"No, Professor!" Lavender insisted, turning a little pale, while Parvati vigorously shook her head. "We like Dylan, but that's not why we're doing this; we really want to take Potions, honestly! I really want to become a mediwizard!"

Snape looked straight into their fearful eyes and decided that they were sincere. "Very well," he said. "But I warn you, it won't be easy. There will be no slacking off in my class; I will expect you to work to the best of your abilities. And I don't intend to change my teaching methods after sixteen years--which means that you needn't expect any fairness from me. Do you still want to take my class?"

The girls gulped and quailed for a moment, looking as though they were about to reconsider, but then Lavender said in a shaky but determined voice, "Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," echoed Parvati.

"Very well," Snape said. "You understand, Miss Brown, that you'll still be a year behind in Potions when you graduate. Potential employers might demand that you take further schooling before you can apply for a job."

"I understand, sir," Lavender replied. "I'll stay back another year to finish Potions if that's what it takes. Padma's promised to help me study, and Professor Chizuru has invited me to come to Japan for a few weeks to study with her."

"Really?" Snape asked, startled. "I thought she was busy negotiating a marriage contract with Master Karasu's clan."

Lavender giggled. "She is, and she says that she needs a break from all the haggling. She says she's going to get back to teaching and let the clan elders fight over all the petty details since they're the only ones who care about them. She and Karasu just want to get married; I think they would elope if they could." 

"No doubt," Snape agreed in a sour tone, although he felt sympathy for the two lovers caught between the political demands of their families. But he showed no sign of it on his face; he didn't want people to think he was going soft, although he feared his reputation had already suffered irreparable damage. It was all Lupin's fault...

Lavender continued, "And she says if I do well in my classes this year, she'll take me on as an apprentice next summer. I talked to some of the administrators at St. Mungo's; they didn't make any promises, but they said that they would probably accept the apprenticeship in lieu of the missing year of Potions if Professor Chizuru gives me a good recommendation."

"Intensive training under a talented Healer would be a valuable addition to your resume," Snape admitted. "But you'll have to work hard, both in my class and under Professor Chizuru."

"I will," Lavender said. "I promise."

"Then I will see you in September, Miss Brown, Miss Patil," Snape said, rising from his seat. "I'll send you a list of your required textbooks, and I'll expect you to study them during the summer and be prepared when school starts in the fall. And you should go back over your old textbooks and refresh yourselves, since you haven't studied Potions at all for a year."

"Yes, sir," the girls chorused meekly.

"It was nice seeing you again," Lupin told them as he rose to follow Snape. "Good luck with your studies."

"Thank you, Professor," Lavender said. "And...um..."

"Yes?" Lupin asked pleasantly, as Snape tapped his foot impatiently.

"Dylan's not here with you today, is he?" Parvati finished.

Snape sighed in irritation and rolled his eyes. "No, he and Theodore are visiting their friend Damien today," Lupin answered politely.

"Oh," Lavender said, looking disappointed. "Then can you tell him we said hi?"

"Of course," Lupin replied. "I'm sure he'll be sorry he missed you."

"I'm still not convinced that Dylan isn't their ulterior motive," Snape grumbled as they left the inn.

"No, I think they're sincere, Severus," Lupin said, then grinned. "I think sharing a class with Dylan is more of an added bonus!"

Snape rolled his eyes again, and Lupin laughed and slipped his arm through Snape's as they headed to Honeydukes.

"Damn it, Lupin, I told you not to do that in public!" Snape snapped, but Lupin ignored him, and the Potions Master did not push him away.

*** 

Harry went downstairs for breakfast and found Sirius in the kitchen, cooking pancakes on the stove. Professor Blackmore was standing next to him, apparently having just entered the kitchen herself. "That smells wonderful, Sirius," she said. "Do you need any help?"

"Nay, my lady," Sirius said in an exaggerated courtly manner. "Sit back and let your knight in shining armor prepare your breakfast feast." Blackmore giggled and kissed him on the cheek, not looking at all demonic. Sirius bent down to return the kiss, and they smiled and gazed fondly into each other's eyes, looking as infatuated as any of the couples who frequented Madam Puddifoot's. 

Harry shook his head; it was very bizarre to see his godfather and his Professor mooning over each other like a couple of teenagers. He noticed that a disgruntled-looking Bane was sitting on the kitchen table instead of his usual perch on Blackmore's shoulder. "What's the matter, Bane?" Harry whispered with a grin. "Is it too mushy in here for you?" 

Maybe the raven was just being his normal cranky self, but he suspected that Bane was jealous. The bird was protective of his mistress, and he obviously didn't enjoy watching her lavish affection on someone else. He didn't seem to like Sirius, although they had reached a sort of uneasy truce, but then again, Bane didn't seem to like anyone other than Blackmore and possibly Snape.

Bane gave the couple a disgusted look and cawed loudly, causing Sirius and Blackmore to look up. "Good morning, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully. "Have a seat; breakfast is almost ready." He tried to flip a pancake over in the pan, tossing it up dramatically high in the air, and it hit the ceiling batter-side up and stuck there instead of falling back into the pan. Blackmore burst out laughing and Sirius grinned sheepishly. "Oops."

"That's what you get for trying to show off, Siri," Blackmore teased him.

"Guys are always humiliating themselves trying to impress the girls, right, Harry?" Sirius said, winking at his godson.

Harry blushed, but Blackmore came to his rescue, saying, "Although he does get into mischief at times, I've never seen Mr. Potter showing off for the girls at school."

"Yes, well, Harry does have more sense than I did at his age," Sirius admitted. "I could tell you some stories about the trouble your father and I got into..." He sighed, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes.

"Oh?" Blackmore said, raising an eyebrow. "Like the time Professor McGonagall and I caught you and Mr. Potter skinny-dipping with some girls in the lake?"

"Really?" Harry exclaimed. "Skinny-dipping? Weren't you afraid of the giant squid?"

"Okay, Branwen, that's enough!" Sirius said, his face turning red.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to recount some more of your adventures for Mr. Potter?" Blackmore asked sweetly.

"Food's ready; let's eat!" Sirius said, hastily changing the subject. He placed a platter of steaming pancakes on the table, and Harry helped himself to some, liberally loading them with syrup and butter. Bane's bad mood seemed to disappear as Sirius gave him a plate of pancakes positively drenched in syrup; much as he liked sweets, it made Harry's teeth hurt just to look at it. 

As Bane began gobbling down his breakfast, Sirius grinned and said to Blackmore, "I've got to keep that demonic bird of yours fat and happy; I've still got a scar from when he pecked me the last time!"

Blackmore frowned a little at her familiar, who was getting sticky maple syrup all over his feathers. "Remind me to cast a cleaning spell on him after breakfast."

"Say, Bran, I was thinking..." Sirius said between bites of pancake.

"I told you not to call me 'Bran,' Sirius," Blackmore said irritably. "'Bran' is something you call a muffin or a bowl of cereal."

"If you can call me 'Siri,' then I can call you 'Bran,'" Sirius retorted.

"Oh really?" Blackmore said, regarding him with the icy stare she reserved for insolent students. "How would you like your name to be permanently changed to 'Snuffles'?"

"Are you threatening to lock me into my dog form?" Sirius demanded.

"Ah, good, so you are able to pick up on hints despite your Gryffindor thickheadedness..."

"I think you're bluffing."

Blackmore gave him a smile that was positively evil, and Sirius went a little pale. "Try me," she purred.

Harry nervously looked back and forth from his teacher to his godfather. Were these two really planning on getting married next month? He was afraid that Sirius wasn't going to survive--in human form, anyway--long enough to make it to the wedding. And aside from his concern for his godfather, if Sirius was permanently turned into a dog or toad, then who would Harry live with? He couldn't go back to the Dursleys; Lupin would probably be willing to take him in, but Harry didn't really fancy having Snape as a stepfather, not to mention two Slytherin stepbrothers...

Sirius saw Harry's face and laughed. "You're scaring, Harry, Bran..." He deliberately paused for a long moment before adding, "...wen."

"And whose fault is that?" Blackmore asked, but she smiled at Harry. "Don't worry, Harry, we were only joking. I wouldn't really permanently transfigure Sirius into a dog...tempting though it is at times."

"It's just lover's banter," Sirius said, winking at Harry, who just gave him a bewildered look. Sirius laughed and said with a sly smile, "Sometimes a little argument adds spice to a relationship; you'll understand when you're a little older."

Harry flushed, feeling embarrassed and just a touch resentful at that last remark; he was nearly seventeen, after all! But it was true that he had no clue what women wanted, because he'd completely botched his short-lived romance with Cho. He didn't understand how an argument could "add spice" to a relationship; he would have thought that two people in love would try to avoid fighting with each other. His argument with Cho over Marietta certainly had not done their relationship any good, but rather had led to their splitting up.

"Sometimes," Blackmore explained gently, "when two people have strong feelings for each other, those feelings can manifest themselves in unexpected ways. Passion can turn into anger, and vice versa." She smiled mischievously. "Remus and Severus, for example."

Harry blushed deeply. "Oh," was his only response. It was true that Snape and Lupin fought a lot (if you could call it that, since the fighting was rather one-sided, on Snape's part), but he really didn't want to think in detail about how those arguments might turn into "passion".

Sirius and Blackmore exchanged an amused, knowing smile, one that made Harry feel as if he were about five years old. Much to his relief, Sirius changed the subject, saying, "Anyway, as I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted, your birthday's coming up soon, Harry. I thought maybe you'd like to have a party, invite a few friends over..."

Harry had thought that perhaps Sirius might have forgotten about his birthday, since he was so busy with the wedding plans. He hadn't intended to make a fuss about it; living with his godfather instead of the Dursleys was already the best present he could have gotten, but he felt relieved and happy to know that Sirius hadn't forgotten. "Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" he asked. "I know you're busy getting ready for the wedding and all..." But despite his words, Harry felt excited about the prospect of a birthday party--he had never had one before, after all.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius said. "We can't let your first birthday with us pass unnoticed! And Hob loves having kids in the house; he'll be thrilled! Besides..." He grinned at Blackmore. "We could use a little break from those wedding plans."

"The wedding plans are more or less under control," Blackmore assured Harry. "Molly finally agreed to settle on green for the color scheme of the decorations--a compromise between her first choice of pink and my suggestion of black and red, which are the colors of the Blackmore family crest." She smiled, feigning innocent bewilderment. "For some reason she seemed to find them rather morbid. And I asked her to bake our wedding cake; hopefully all those preparations should keep her busy and out of our hair until the wedding."

Sirius laughed, and Harry felt relieved. After Mrs. Weasley's and Professor Blackmore's first heated argument over the wedding plans, Harry had made himself scarce whenever Mrs. Weasley came around, hiding upstairs with Buckbeak, and once, under the stairs with Hob. He'd felt a bit cowardly and guilty about it, but after the incident with Bane last year, there was no way that he was putting himself between an irate Blackmore and the object of her wrath. Poor Sirius hadn't had the luxury of hiding since he was the prospective groom and both his fiancee and Mrs. Weasley had expected him to take an interest in these matters, so Sirius was probably even more relieved than Harry!

"Well then, if you're sure it's no trouble..." Harry said, unable to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"No trouble at all, Harry," Sirius said in a hearty voice, and Blackmore smiled at him in an almost motherly fashion.

"I'd like to invite Hermione and Ron, of course," Harry said. "And Ginny and the twins, if that's okay. Um...do you think Professor Lupin would like to come?" They'd barely seen Lupin this summer, except for the few days they had spent cleaning Blackmore Manor together. Maybe he was too busy with Snape and their two new foster sons to bother with a childish birthday party...

"Of course!" Sirius replied. "Moony would be hurt if you didn't invite him. Same goes for Tonks."

"Okay," Harry said, cheering up. Lupin and Tonks were his two favorite Order members, apart from Sirius.

"If you're inviting Remus, you ought to invite Severus and the boys, too," Blackmore said.

"Do I have to?" Harry wailed in dismay.

Blackmore gave him a stern look. "I thought you had realized that the Slytherins are not your enemies, Harry."

"Yes, well, but..." Harry stammered, unable to work up a coherent argument. It was one thing to realize that not all Slytherins were evil, but quite another to invite them to your birthday party! Yes, Snape was a hero; he had risked his life spying on the Death Eaters and had protected Harry these past six years, but he had been no less strict and acerbic in class after the final battle. Harry respected the man and was grateful to him, but he wasn't really sure that he liked him. 

And he wasn't quite sure how he felt about Lupin's newly-open relationship with Snape, either. A part of him felt a little hurt that Lupin seemed to have aligned himself with the Slytherins, not just in his choice of Snape as a lover, but by moving into the dungeon and adopting two Slytherin boys; he was also a little hurt that Lupin had visited so seldom this summer. The more logical part of him--the part that sounded an awful lot like Hermione--knew that he was being childish, and that he should not begrudge Lupin whatever happiness he'd managed to find after years of hardship. And if Lupin was too busy to visit, there was probably good reason for that: not only did he have a new family to look after, Harry had learned from listening in on Sirius's and Blackmore's conversations that Snape and Lupin had been involved in a legal battle with the Ministry over the Nott and Rosier estates. 

Or maybe, Harry thought with a small smile, Lupin had been staying away in order to avoid being caught up in Mrs. Weasley's and Blackmore's battles over the wedding plans; he couldn't really blame his teacher for that!

"Aw, come on, Branwen!" Sirius argued on his godson's behalf. "It's Harry's party; it's supposed to be fun! Let him invite who he wants."

"It would be rude to invite Remus without inviting the others," Blackmore insisted.

"Snape won't come even if we do invite him," Sirius pointed out.

"Maybe so, but it would still be polite and proper to issue an invitation, regardless."

"Since when were you so concerned about being proper?" Sirius grumbled.

"Never mind," Harry said quickly, trying to head off another argument, not sure if this was a real fight or another example of adding "spice" to a relationship. Better to be safe than sorry. "I'll invite Snape and Nott and Rosier, too." Sirius was probably right; there was no way that the Slytherins would actually accept the invitation, so it was better to meekly agree with Blackmore rather than make her angry--that way, everyone was happy with no real cost to himself. He smiled, feeling very satisfied and just a bit smug.

Sirius blinked, looking surprised at how quickly Harry had given in. "Are you sure that's okay with you, Harry?" he asked dubiously. "This is your party, you don't have to--"

"It's fine, Sirius, really," Harry said reassuringly.

"Well...okay, then," Sirius said reluctantly. "So let's see...Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Tonks, Moony, Snape, Theodore, and Dylan--that makes ten. Wait, if Tonks is coming, then maybe she might want to bring Kingsley. Eleven. Plus us, so we should plan on having enough food and favors for fourteen people..."

"Fifteen," Blackmore corrected. "I think you ought to invite Draco, too."

"Do I _have_ to?" Harry wailed again, forgetting his newly-found equanimity.

"He's lost his father and most of his friends," Blackmore reminded him in a quiet voice. "He's lonely. I know that you and he aren't the best of friends, but you've managed to get along over the summer without killing each other, and I think it would be nice of you to invite him. Besides, he's family; he's Sirius's cousin." She paused for a moment, then added, "Narcissa's lonely too, I think."

Sirius and Harry stared at each other, then both sighed heavily, knowing without needing to speak that they couldn't fight Blackmore on this one. "Sixteen, then," Sirius said in a resigned tone.

_Well, maybe Draco won't want to come,_ Harry thought hopefully.

After they finished eating, Sirius said, "Why don't we go to Hogsmeade today? We can do a little shopping, buy some party favors and invitations...and I know you'd probably like to stop by Honeydukes and Zonko's."

"Great!" Harry said enthusiastically. "Let me go get my wallet!" He actually got an allowance now from Sirius in exchange for doing a few chores around the house, although Hob still did most of the cleaning. It wasn't really necessary, because he could draw on the Potter account at Gringotts, but Harry liked it, because it made him feel like a normal kid with a normal family--although perhaps "normal" wasn't exactly the word most people would use to describe his new family. 

But still, they were more family to him than the Dursleys had ever been, for all that they weren't related to him by blood. And Harry treasured the small freedoms that his friends probably took for granted but were new to him: no longer being begrudged food and shelter, having an allowance, being able to leave the house to visit friends or go shopping, and now a birthday party. He ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom, forgetting that he'd been put out about having to invite the Slytherins.

Sirius and Branwen smiled at each other, ignoring the loud, clomping sound of Harry's footsteps as he took the stairs two at a time, waking Mrs. Black's portrait, who began yelling, "Begone from the house of my fathers!"

"That was a good idea you had about the birthday party, dear," Branwen told him, raising her voice a little to be heard over Mrs. Black. "He seems very happy about it."

"Well, he probably never had one before, poor kid," Sirius replied. "We'll have to make sure it's a great party, to make up for all the ones he missed." Then he grinned and said, "Maybe I need to sit down and have a man-to-man talk with him, though. It's clear that he's never had a passionate kiss-and-make-up session after a good fight!"

Branwen laughed. "That will come with experience, love. He's only had one girlfriend, after all, and he hasn't had much time for romance this past year. Besides, not everyone has stormy love affairs--believe it or not, there are some couples who have tranquil, harmonious relationships."

"Sounds kind of boring to me," Sirius said skeptically.

"To each his own," Branwen said. "You can give Harry some fatherly advice if you wish, but let him choose his own path and take things at his own pace."

"Yes, Bran."

"Didn't I just tell you not to call me that...?"

Harry ran back into the kitchen a few minutes later. "Okay, I'm ready to--" He saw his godfather and Professor locked in a passionate embrace and kiss. He abruptly did an about face and ran out of the room, and Branwen and Sirius burst out laughing.

*** 

A white owl scratched at the window of the cottage, and Lupin got up to let it in. "Hello, Hedwig," he said. She was holding a thick packet of letters in her claws; she pulled one out with her beak and dropped it into Lupin's hand. She paused to accept a brief scratch on the head from him, but didn't linger, apparently eager to be on her way and deliver the other letters. Lupin opened the envelope, pulled out the card inside, and read it. "We're all invited to a birthday party!" he announced cheerfully.

"Whose party?" Snape asked suspiciously; he was almost certain that owl belonged to Potter...

"Harry's, of course," Lupin replied, confirming his suspicions. "His birthday is July 31st, remember?"

"What?!" Dylan exclaimed in surprise. He knew that Lupin had been a friend of Potter's father, but he couldn't imagine why Potter would invite the rest of them to his party.

"You must be mistaken, Lupin," Snape said, scowling at his lover. "Potter obviously wouldn't want me attending his birthday party. I'm sure the invitation is only intended for you."

"Read it yourself," Lupin said, handing the card to him.

Sure enough, the names "Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Theodore Nott, and Dylan Rosier" were written on the card in a neat, feminine script. "This is Branwen's handwriting," Snape said, continuing to scowl. "She must have forced him to invite all of us."

"We don't have to go, do we?" a dismayed Theodore asked. 

Lupin smiled slyly, his eyes sliding over to Dylan. "But I'm sure Hermione will be there, so perhaps Dylan would like to go."

"Why would Dylan want to--?" Theodore started to ask, then stared at his foster brother in shock as he blushed. A look of disbelief filled Theodore's face. "No way! You--and Granger?! You could have any girl in the school!"

"We're not going out together or anything," Dylan said, still blushing. "You know, because it would have caused problems with Malfoy, not to mention the Death Eaters. But we're friends, sort of. I mean, we used to meet secretly to study together until it got too dangerous after I was Marked."

"But...but...but..." Theodore stammered. "She's a Gryffindor! And a bookworm! And a Mud--"

"Don't go there, Theo," Dylan warned, an edge to his voice. His blush was gone and he looked up to meet his friend's eyes with a cold, silver-gray stare.

Lupin placed a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "The Gryffindors are no longer your enemies, remember?" he asked kindly.

Theodore flushed. "I know, but still..."

Lupin smiled. "Is it really any more shocking than finding out that Severus and I were a couple?"

Theodore still remembered the day Lupin had planted a kiss on Snape at the head table in front of the entire school. "No," he admitted. "I don't think anything could be more shocking than that." Snape made a snorting sound that might have been a laugh. "But still," Theodore said, turning back to Dylan, "why _Granger_?" He sounded completely bewildered.

Dylan had calmed down, and the cold look was gone from his eyes. "Because she's smart and she's brave and she does what she wants without worrying what people think of her. She didn't care when everyone made fun of her when she started S.P.E.W. She fought against the Death Eaters--twice. You've got to admit, that takes guts."

"I suppose," Theodore muttered grudgingly. _Or an appalling lack of common sense,_ he added silently. _Which is typical of a Gryffindor, after all._ Facing the Death Eaters once had been more than enough for him. But he supposed he would do it again if he had to, in order to protect Blaise or Dylan or Damien. "And I suppose that she's the only girl in the school who's as smart as you are," he added, with a hint of dry humor. "But still, if you were going to pick a Gryffindor girl, I would have thought you'd go after someone like Lavender or Parvati. Merlin knows that Damien's always drooling over them."

Dylan smiled. "They're pretty, but Hermione's pretty, too, in her own way. Remember the Yule Ball?" 

Theodore shrugged; having no interest in girls, he didn't pay much attention to their appearances, but he vaguely remembered that during the first Ball, Granger had undergone what the Slytherin girls had deemed a miraculous transformation. "Yeah, I guess."

"And she doesn't simper at me the way the other girls do," Dylan continued.

"Figures," Theodore said with a wry smile. "With practically every girl in the school throwing themselves at your feet, you have to go after the one that plays hard to get."

Dylan laughed, relieved that Theodore had apparently decided to give in gracefully. "She doesn't play 'hard to get'; she doesn't play games, period. I find that rather refreshing."

When he put it that way, Theodore could understand it a little better. The lives of the Slytherin families were a complicated web of intrigue and power games; he could understand why Dylan might be drawn to someone who didn't play such games, who always said what she meant, without any hidden meanings. Blaise was pretty straightforward for a Slytherin, but as a Slytherin, he still knew that there were certain things that could not be safely said out loud and certain people that it was not safe to offend. Theodore glanced over to see how Snape was taking all of this, and to his shock, he saw that his Professor looked sour and resigned, but not surprised. "Professor? You knew about all this?"

"Yes," Snape said in a grumpy voice. "I expected better of Rosier, but there's no accounting for taste."

"Indeed," Lupin agreed, smiling at him fondly. "How else do you account for you and I?" He leaned over to kiss Snape on the cheek.

"Cut that out, Lupin," Snape huffed, and Lupin grinned. "Fine. You and Dylan can go to the party, but I'll stay home. I'm sure Potter would prefer that I wasn't there, anyway." Snape smiled sardonically. "That will be my present to him."

"Then I'll stay home with the Professor," Theodore added quickly. "I'm not in love with a Gryffindor girl, after all."

Lupin sighed heavily and gazed at him with sad blue eyes. "It's your decision, of course," he said, sounding disappointed. "But I was hoping the two of you would come along. I'm sure that Dylan will feel more comfortable with you there, and I was hoping we could put an end to this feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin. I'm sure it wasn't easy for Harry to reach out to you this way--"

"It probably wasn't too difficult with Blackmore giving him that demonic glare of hers," Snape muttered under his breath.

"--and it would be nice of you to meet his gesture halfway," Lupin continued, ignoring Snape.

"It's a birthday party, not a bloody peace treaty, Lupin!" Snape snapped.

"In a way, it is a peace offering, Severus," Lupin said solemnly. "When was the last time a Gryffindor invited a Slytherin to a birthday party? When was the last time a Gryffindor and a Slytherin attempted to be friends with each other?"

"Probably about twenty years ago," Snape mumbled, remembering how his tentative relationship with Lupin had been destroyed when Black sent him to the Shrieking Shack.

"Isn't it time to let go of all that hatred and animosity?" Lupin asked quietly. When Snape and Theodore remained silent, he continued, "I would really like it if you two would come to the party with us," his blue eyes wide and hopeful. As his two reluctant family members continued to hesitate, Lupin sighed again and said sadly, "But if you honestly feel that you're not up to it..."

"All right!" Theodore said, unable to stand the look in Lupin's eyes any longer. "I'll come!"

"Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Oh, all right," Snape growled.

Lupin smiled, the mournful look on his face instantly replaced by his usual look of good cheer. "Good! Then I'll go R.S.V.P. right now! Do you mind if I borrow Blodwen, Dylan?"

"Not at all, Remus."

Lupin ran off to his room to write a reply, and Theodore said helplessly, "How does he do that?!"

"Do what?" Dylan asked.

"Make you agree to do something that you would otherwise absolutely refuse to do!"

"He's a manipulative little bastard," Snape said sourly. "Sometimes I think he should have been a Slytherin after all. He looks at you with those big blue eyes and uses that tone of voice that says he's so disappointed in you and if you would only be reasonable and do this one little thing, it would make him so happy, but if you refuse to do it of course he'll understand and suffer miserably in silence. Very dramatic silence, mind you..."

"Guilt trip," Dylan said, more succinctly, if less colorfully.

"You mean he does it to you, too?" Theodore asked Snape.

"All the time," Snape sighed. "When the werewolf has his mind set on something, it's usually easier to just give in."

Dylan made a choking noise as he tried to repress his laughter at the way the dreaded Potions Master sounded like nothing more than a henpecked husband.

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Rosier?" Snape asked in an icy voice as his foster son began coughing uncontrollably. "You seem to have developed a nasty cough; perhaps I should brew you a tonic."

"No thank you, sir," Dylan said, trying to get himself under control. "I just--ahem--seem to have breathed in a little dust or something. I'm fine now."

"Don't you have any chores to do, Mr. Rosier?" Snape continued in that icy voice. "Perhaps you should go gather firewood or work in the garden; I'm sure the fresh air will do that cough of yours good."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said meekly, and he and Theodore ran out of the cottage. 

Snape watched them leave, then grumbled to no one in particular, "That stupid werewolf is ruining my reputation!"

Safely out of Snape's earshot, Theodore said accusingly, "I can't believe you've been carrying a torch for Granger all this time and never told us! And after I told you guys about me and Blaise!"

"Only after Damien and I walked in on the two of you," Dylan reminded him dryly, and Theodore flushed. "Besides, I didn't know how you'd react, and I couldn't take the chance that you'd tell Malfoy or..."

His voice trailed off, but Theodore could fill in the blanks on his own. "Or the Death Eaters," he finished quietly. "You knew that my father was a Death Eater and that I was one of Malfoy's cronies, and you didn't know how deeply I might be involved with them." Dylan gave him an apologetic look, and Theodore laughed bitterly. "The irony of it is, I didn't trust you, either, for the same reasons. I thought you wanted to be a Death Eater like your father, and when I saw you nearly grab your arm that night, I was sure the Dark Lord had put his Mark on you..."

"I'm sorry, Theo," Dylan said. "I began to suspect that you didn't really want to become a Death Eater when you said you wished your dad would stay in prison. And then I was sure of it, when I returned after being summoned the first time, and you pulled me aside and told me not to get Blaise and Damien involved. I wanted to tell you the truth, but Snape said it would be too dangerous, for you as well as me."

"I understand," Theodore said. "It's funny, all this time we were on the same side, but we didn't trust each other." Then he sighed and said, sounding as if he were trying to resign himself to the fact, "You and Granger. Malfoy is going to flip when he hears about this."

Dylan laughed. "Well, it doesn't really matter anymore what Draco thinks, does it? He'll just have to live with it. It's none of his business, anyway."

"I still don't see why I have to hang out with Potter and his buddies just so you can make time with one of his friends," Theodore complained.

"You're not doing it for my sake," Dylan reminded him. "I don't really care if you come or not. You're doing it to make Lupin happy."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Theodore muttered, then added petulantly, "I suppose Lupin's going to make us buy him a present, too..."

Right on cue, Lupin emerged from the cottage and called out cheerfully, "Dylan? Theo? I thought we'd go to Diagon Alley today; we need to go shopping for birthday presents."

Theodore groaned out loud as Dylan burst into laughter.

*** 

"Aw, Mum, do I _have_ to go?" Draco wailed.

"Yes, Draco," Narcissa said with uncharacteristic sternness. "It's an honor to be invited to the birthday party of the savior of the wizarding world."

"Aw, Mum, you don't really believe that, do you?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe, Draco. What matters is what the outside world believes. Befriending Harry Potter will help cancel out the taint of being branded a Death Eater and go a long way towards ensuring your future. You've seen how people have snubbed us since the battle, but if Harry Potter accepts you as a friend, you might be able to regain your standing in society. Or do you want to labor at a menial, obscure, second-rate job for the rest of your life?"

"Okay, okay!" Draco said sulkily. "I'll go!" He had liked it better when he was the one that people sucked up to, rather than the one doing the sucking up.

"Cheer up, Draco," Narcissa said, kissing him on the cheek. "At least the fines have been settled with the Ministry."

"Yeah, and they took almost half of what was in our account at Gringotts," Draco said sullenly.

"That, in combination with the gold your father secretly hid away, is enough for us to live comfortably on," Narcissa told him. "We can't be quite as extravagant as we used to, but you won't have to dress in hand-me-downs like the Weasleys, either."

"I doubt they'll be dressing in hand-me-downs much longer," Draco muttered, "now that their dad is the Minister of Magic."

Narcissa sighed and felt a touch of bitterness, as she thought of all her hopes and dreams for the future, which had been shattered when Potter had slain the Dark Lord--no, which had been shattered even before that, when Lucius had tried to use their son as a shield to protect himself. But she had to be strong now, for Draco's sake; sitting around feeling sorry for herself and bemoaning the past would not do her son any good. And...deep down, she was secretly more relieved than regretful that the Dark Lord had been defeated. She was glad that Draco would never be subjected to a Cruciatus Curse, or worse, suffer the fate of Karkaroff, for displeasing his Master.

"Well, come along, Draco," Narcissa said briskly. "We've got to go shopping for a birthday present. An expensive one, I think--we want to make a good impression, after all."

"Yes, Mum," Draco said in a gloomy voice.

*** 

The party was being held at Blackmore Manor instead of Grimmauld Place, since the noise would probably wake Mrs. Black's portrait, and this way the children could play games outside without having to worry about being seen by Muggles. Tonks and Shacklebolt arrived early to help Sirius and Branwen set things up for the party. The Weasley children were the next to arrive, followed by Lupin and his family.

"What are the Slytherins doing here?" Ron whispered to Harry as a sullen Theodore and Snape accompanied a cheerful Lupin and Dylan into the living room, which had been decorated with streamers and balloons.

"Blackmore made me invite them," Harry whispered back.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" Lupin said, giving Harry a hug and handing him a wrapped present.

"Thank you, Professor. It's good to see you."

"Happy birthday," Dylan said politely, handing Harry a present, while Theodore just grunted, "Here," and shoved a package at him rather ungraciously.

"Uh...thanks," Harry said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

Just then, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy entered the room. "What?" Ron exclaimed. "You invited Malfoy, too?!"

"Calm down, Ron," Ginny told him. "The Slytherins aren't the enemy anymore, remember?"

"If you say so," he said dubiously.

"Rosier!" a startled Draco said. "Nott! Professor Snape! You were all invited, too?"

"Yes, isn't it nice that we could all get together like this?" Lupin chirped in a sunny tone as Snape glared at him.

While Draco was trying to decide how he should reply to that, Hermione arrived carrying a brightly-wrapped parcel and a large shopping bag. "Happy birthday, Harry!" she said, handing him his gift as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She looked startled, then pleased to see the Slytherins there. "Oh, hello, Draco, Mrs. Malfoy," she said. Narcissa nodded at her, a polite but stiff gesture; she wasn't used to associating with the Muggle-born wizards she had been brought up to despise. "It's good to see you Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, Theodore..." She smiled warmly at the last person in the little group. "...Dylan."

"Hi, Hermione," Dylan said casually, smiling back at her just as warmly. "How was your trip to Europe?"

"Oh, it was great!" she said enthusiastically. "I especially loved Paris! And I brought back souvenirs for everyone..." She reached into the shopping bag and began handing them out. There were snowglobes containing a tiny model of the Eiffel Tower for Harry and Ron; perfume for Ginny; a beret for Lupin, who grinned and immediately placed it on his head at a jaunty angle; bars of fancy French chocolate for Snape, who flushed and mumbled an inarticulate "thank you" after Lupin elbowed him in the side; and a book on the Louvre for Dylan.

"Wow, this is great, Hermione!" he said, flipping through the book. "Thank you."

"It's in French," she said uncertainly. "I hope that's okay. I remembered that you said once that you speak French."

"Yes, it's fine," Dylan assured her. "And if there's anything I don't understand, I can ask Rem...er, Professor Lupin to translate it for me."

"You speak French, Rosier?" Draco asked. "I didn't know that."

Dylan nodded absent-mindedly as he continued flipping through the book, which contained many beautiful color photographs of the museum. "Yeah, and Welsh and Latin."

"Really?" Ginny asked, sounding impressed; Ron scowled at her. "You must be very good with languages."

Dylan shrugged modestly. "Well, I was born in Wales, so I grew up speaking both Welsh and English. And I was stuck on the family estate for thirteen years, so I passed the time by studying. My mother taught me French and Latin. She said it was important to know Latin since so many of the spell commands and incantations are based on it, and she just liked the way French sounds. She used to say it was a beautiful language and very romantic." He grinned mischievously at Hermione, who blushed. "And Professor Lupin has been teaching me and Theo Japanese."

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding interested. "Do you think you could teach me, too, Professor? I've been wanting to learn ever since Professor Chizuru started teaching at Hogwarts. She taught us a few things in her afterschool club, but there wasn't enough time for formal language lessons..."

"Only Hermione would go looking for extra lessons in the middle of summer vacation," Ron muttered.

"Of course, Hermione," Lupin replied cheerfully. "You could stop by the cottage and join Theo and Dylan for their lessons." Dylan looked very pleased; Theo looked a bit sulky, but didn't object; and Snape just heaved a sigh of resignation. 

"I--I'd like that very much, Professor," Hermione stammered, looking a little flustered. She smiled shyly at Dylan.

Draco stared at Hermione and Dylan with a look of slowly dawning suspicion and horror. Hermione enlisted Dylan's help in stacking Harry's growing pile of presents neatly on a table in the corner of the room, and the pair chattered with each other about their summer vacations, oblivious to everyone else around them. "Nott," Draco whispered, tugging urgently on Theodore's sleeve, "don't tell me that those two...that Rosier and Granger..."

"Are a couple?" Theodore finished, still looking a little sullen. "Not yet, but I imagine they will be soon. Might as well get used to the idea, Malfoy." 

"But...but...but..." Draco spluttered indignantly. "He's a Slytherin; she's a Gryffindor! It's...it's...unthinkable!"

"No more unthinkable than Severus and I," Lupin pointed out, winking at Snape, who glowered at him. "And no more unthinkable than a Malfoy siding with the Order against the Death Eaters," Lupin added gently.

Draco was spared from having to reply to that when Sirius, Blackmore, Tonks, and Shacklebolt entered the room and Sirius announced, "Well, let's get this party started, shall we?"

Sirius and Branwen had created a very elaborate treasure hunt on the grounds of the estate. They divided the children up into teams--Harry, Ron, and Ginny; Fred and George; Draco and Theodore; and Dylan and Hermione--then gave each team a clue that would lead them to another clue and then another and so on until one team found the prize. Some of the clues were word games and riddles, while others were disguised or protected by magic--for example, one clue was protected by a warding spell, another was disguised by an illusion, and a third was located in a pond guarded by a grindylow. Not surprisingly, Hermione and Dylan were the winners, the first to locate, decipher, and dispel all the clues and find the prize, a small wooden chest which had been transfigured into a tree stump. Hermione broke the enchantment with a flourish, and the adults, who had been watching the proceedings with amusement, applauded, although Narcissa did so somewhat halfheartedly. The chest was filled with candy and small magical trinkets like a deck of self-shuffling cards, a couple of good-luck charms, and a cheap Sneakoscope.

"It's not fair that the two top students at Hogwarts got paired together," Draco whined.

Harry grinned and asked, "Does that mean you finally admit that Hermione's smarter than you?" Draco scowled at him and Harry laughed, "Hey, no offense! She's smarter than me, too!"

"That's not saying much, Potter," Draco sniffed.

Ron was too miffed with Dylan and Hermione to notice Draco's insult. "It's your birthday, Harry," he grumbled. "You should've been the one to win the prize."

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Ron," Ginny said.

"It's okay, Ron," Harry assured his friend. "They won it fair and square; I don't mind. It's great just to have a party, whether I win anything or not!" He wasn't lying; he really was thrilled to have a birthday party for the first time that he could remember, and it showed on his face, so Ron relaxed.

Snape said to Branwen with amusement, "I noticed that this little game you created for the children was very educational."

"Of course," she said smugly. "There's no harm in them learning something while they're having fun. Actually, I got the idea from that obstacle course you created for Harry's third-year Defense class," she told Lupin.

"I'm flattered," Lupin laughed.

"Don't tell them that, though," Sirius said with a grin. "You'll spoil their fun if you tell them you've tricked them into taking extra lessons disguised as a game during their vacation."

After the treasure hunt was over, Sirius let the children take rides on Buckbeak. The Hippogriff was thrilled to be able to spread his wings and fly after being cooped up in Grimmauld Place for so long. He flew with enthusiasm, soaring high and swooping low, and flying in acrobatic loops in the air. The twins shrieked with pleasure during their ride, and after they landed, Fred said, "That was great! Can we do it again?" Theodore looked a little pale, though, when he finished his ride, and Ron looked downright queasy. 

"Oohh," he groaned, clutching his stomach. "I think I'm gonna be sick! It was that last loop that did me in."

"It wasn't so bad," Hermione said calmly. "Sort of like riding a roller-coaster."

Draco was the only one who declined a ride. "Er...no thanks, I'll pass," he said as Buckbeak gave him a hostile look, no doubt remembering their first meeting.

They capped the festivities off with a fireworks display, courtesy of Fred and George, then returned to the house for lunch, followed by cake and ice cream. Hob, who had prepared the food, had outdone himself with the cake, a splendid creation which depicted a Quidditch player in red and gold robes on a broomstick chasing a Golden Snitch, all made out of sweet buttercream frosting. Written in red icing below that were the words, "Happy Birthday, Harry!"

"Blow out your candles and make a wish, Harry!" Sirius said.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. Voldemort was finally dead, and he had a loving if slightly eccentric family, good friends, and even a birthday party; what more could he possibly wish for? _I wish for things to continue as they are,_ he decided. _To be happy and safe--no more Dark Lord, Death Eaters, or Dursleys. For once, I would like to have a normal school year, and not have to worry about anything but Quidditch and homework._ He paused, remembering the way Sirius had talked about adding "spice" to a relationship and had knowingly said, "you'll understand when you're older". _And maybe girls,_ he hastily added with a grin. Then he opened his eyes and blew out the candles with one breath.

After the cake had been demolished, Harry began opening his presents. Sirius gave him a magical music box similar to the one Lupin had, which was all the rage with the wealthier students. He tentatively touched one of the jeweled stones set in the box and a Weird Sisters song began playing. 

Branwen winced at the raucous sound of the music and sighed, "I must be getting old."

"Never, my dear," Sirius said gallantly, kissing her on the cheek. "You're as young and beautiful as the day I entered Hogwarts." Harry laughed at the way Draco's eyes bulged out in disbelief.

Blackmore gave him a book, of course, one on protective circles and runes. "It'll come in handy next term," she told him with a wicked smile, and he gulped, but managed to thank her politely. 

Shacklebolt also gave him a book, one on defensive magic. "Since I heard you were thinking of becoming an Auror," he explained. "We could certainly use some young blood in our ranks!" Tonks gave him a Quidditch action figure mounted on a tiny broom that zipped about the room.

Harry opened the present Lupin had given him next. The tag said, "From Professor Lupin and Professor Snape." Snape muttered sourly, "It's really just from Lupin," but no one paid any attention to him. Harry tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a large box. He lifted the lid to find a thick book entitled "A Modern Herbal," although when he flipped through it, he discovered that it was not really modern at all, having been written in the early 1900's. It was an encyclopedia of herbs and their various uses. 

"That's a very good book, Harry," Hermione said approvingly. "It'll be a good resource for Potions class, and Herbology, too."

Harry supposed that Snape must have picked it out--probably under duress from Lupin. "Thank you, Professor," he said politely.

"Don't thank me, thank Lupin," Snape growled.

"Hey, there's something else in the box, Harry!" Ron said.

Harry had nearly overlooked the small object, which had been hidden beneath the book. It was a framed photograph; the frame looked new, but the picture looked a little creased and dog-eared. Harry didn't care about the battered state of the photo, though, because he was captivated by its subject: a teenaged James Potter, flanked by a smiling Lupin and Sirius.

"That was taken at the Potter home during our fourth year," Lupin told Harry. "Sirius and I had gone to spend the Christmas holidays with James." He hesitated, then added, "I had some other pictures of James, but Peter was in most of them, and well...so anyway, I picked this one."

"It's great, Professor," Harry said, blinking back tears. "I hardly have any pictures of my dad. Thanks so much!" He impulsively hugged Lupin, who laughed and hugged him back.

"You're welcome, Harry."

Theodore watched this with a hint of jealousy and resentment in his eyes, but he said nothing, so Harry didn't notice, and continued opening his presents. The ever-practical Hermione gave him a new homework planner, and Ginny gave him a Quidditch rules manual. "The very latest edition," she said with a grin, "updated to forbid hitting the Snitch with another object, including a Quaffle." 

Dylan just laughed good-naturedly. "Well then, we'll have to come up with a new strategy this time around, right, Draco?"

"That's right!" Draco said. "We'll beat you Gryffindors again this year, just wait and see!"

Harry grinned and said, "I'm looking forward to a rematch, Malfoy." He opened the twins' presents next: a box of Canary Creams and a Headless Hat. Wearing the Hat while eating the Creams proved to be an interesting experiment, producing a giant headless canary. Draco and Theo sighed and shook their heads in a slightly patronizing manner as the Weasley boys laughed uproariously. 

Mrs. Weasley was too busy to attend the party, but she had sent him a big jar of homemade cookies. "Plan on sharing those?" Ron asked hopefully, and Harry laughed and offered Ron a cookie, then passed the jar around the table. Ron's present to Harry was a model flying dragon. "It reminded me of the First Task in the Triwizard Tournament," he said. The boys soon had the dragon chasing the Quidditch action figure around the room, although Blackmore made them put the toys away after they crash-landed into the remains of the birthday cake. Ron wiped them off with a napkin under Blackmore's stern gaze while Harry finished opening his presents.

Narcissa and Draco gave him an expensive book on wizarding history. "Since you're going to be a part of wizarding society," Draco said stiffly, "you ought to know how it works." It was more the sort of thing that Hermione would enjoy reading, but Harry thanked them politely. And he reluctantly supposed that he should learn a bit more about wizarding politics and things like blood status. He didn't agree with the snobbish ways of the wizarding elite, but he ought to know what he was up against.

Harry finally opened his last two gifts: a box of Chocolate Frogs from Dylan, and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans from Theodore, who had selected them knowing that there was a pretty good chance that Potter would be biting into a booger, liver, or vomit-flavored bean. A spiteful thought, perhaps, but he was a Slytherin, after all. Theodore had to admit to himself that the party hadn't been too bad, though...almost fun, in fact. He'd never admit it out loud to Lupin, though. Lupin glanced in his direction and gave him an amused smile, and Theodore nervously wondered if Lupin could read minds. Dylan had explained how Snape's Occlumency lessons had protected him from the Dark Lord, and he wondered if Lupin was able to practice Occlumency and Legilimency as well...

Harry thanked everyone again for the presents, and the party broke up soon after that. Sirius and Branwen sent their guests home with party favors: licorice wands and little baskets shaped like witches' hats that were filled with candy. Harry gave his godfather a hug, saying, "Thanks, Sirius! That was a great party!"

"You're welcome, Harry," Sirius said, hugging him back. "But you should also thank Branwen. She let us use her estate, and she thought up the treasure hunt, too."

"Thank you, Professor Blackmore," Harry said. "I really appreciate it." He hesitated, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

To his great relief, she didn't turn him into a toad for his presumption, but just smiled and gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek in return. "You're welcome, dear."

Bane flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder, peering at Harry's gifts--particularly the edible ones--with interest. Harry wondered what would happen if he fed Bane a Canary Cream, but regretfully decided that it would be safer not to find out, and gave the raven one of Mrs. Weasley's cookies instead.

There was one more person he needed to thank; Hob had remained out of sight during the entire party, but Harry knew that the little household spirit must have worked hard preparing the food for the party and cleaning up afterwards. So he left a Chocolate Frog beside the fireplace before going to bed that night.

Hob had already eaten the piece of leftover cake Sirius had left on the kitchen hearth, but he always had room for more sweets. He smiled at the sleeping boy, quietly picked up the piece of candy, and took it back to his cupboard under the stairs. To his delight, when he unwrapped the Chocolate Frog, he found a Dumbledore card enclosed with the treat. He stuck the card to the wall of his cupboard with a piece of tape, and the kindly old wizard smiled down at him and winked as Hob contentedly munched on the piece of chocolate, thinking to himself how much more pleasant the house was now that it was inhabited by a family: the Mister, the Missus-to-be, and their godson. And maybe in a few years, there would be a few more children running through the halls, annoying the portrait of Mrs. Black...

*** 

That night at dinner, Lupin said to his foster sons, "Your birthdays are coming up soon, too." The guardianship application papers he and Snape had filled out before officially gaining custody of Theodore and Dylan had required detailed personal information--including birthdates--about all the parties involved. They had checked the boys' school records for some of that information, and Lupin had made a point of remembering Dylan's and Theo's birthdays--August 5th and August 9th, respectively. "Your birthdays are only a few days apart, so I thought maybe we could have one combined party."

"We could do it on Theo's birthday," Dylan immediately offered. "Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin wrote that they'd like me to spend my birthday with them in Wales, if that's all right with you and Professor Snape."

"That would be fine," Lupin said with a smile, and Snape nodded. "I'm sure they miss you and would love to see you. We'll have the party on the 9th, then."

Theodore was rapidly warming to the idea. He'd had birthday parties in the past, of course, but they hadn't been much fun; they were more of an excuse for the Death Eaters to get together and demonstrate the social pecking order, with the less powerful members flattering and catering to the more powerful. Theodore's father had been somewhere in the middle of that hierarchy, while Lucius Malfoy was of course at the top, which meant that Theodore had always deferred to Draco even at his own party. But now he could have a real party, with his real friends, and not have to suck up to anyone... "Can we invite Blaise and Damien?" he asked.

"Of course," Lupin replied. "Would you like to invite any of your other friends?"

Theodore frowned; he didn't really have any other friends. "Well...I guess we can invite Draco," he said without much enthusiasm. But he knew it would make Lupin happy and besides, Malfoy had been behaving himself of late. "And maybe Serafina." He and Sera had never really quite been friends, but she had fought on their side during the battle, and they shared a certain bond, both being the offspring of abusive Death Eater fathers.

"Hermione," Dylan added, and Theodore sighed, but did not object; Snape looked similarly resigned. "And maybe we should invite Allegra?" Dylan suggested with a grin. "I'm sure she'll be disappointed if she has to stay home while Blaise goes to a party."

"Good idea," Theodore said, although it meant that he and Blaise probably couldn't sneak off to spend some time alone in the woods together. It wasn't a bad idea to butter up Blaise's parents by being nice to their daughter.

Lupin got up to fetch a piece of paper and a pen, and began jotting down names. "Anyone else?" he asked. "What about Vincent and Gregory?"

Theodore scowled a little; Crabbe and Goyle weren't really his favorite people, but on the other hand, they had become a lot less obnoxious after the battle. In fact, they had become downright devoted to Lupin, following him around like adoring little puppy dogs. "Oh, all right," he said. "We can invite them too, I guess."

"I'm not sure their mothers will let them come," Dylan said. "Draco said they've been forbidden to see him during the summer; their mothers don't want them associating with anyone connected to the Death Eaters."

Lupin frowned. "Well, we'll send them an invitation anyway. Maybe I can talk to their mothers and convince them to change their minds."

"You don't have to invite all of Slytherin, Lupin," Snape said. "Besides, the cottage can't hold that many people."

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss, Sev," Lupin said. "We can have the party outside."

"It'll probably rain," Snape predicted dourly.

"Do you really have to be such a pessimist, Severus?"

"It comes with being a Death Eater, Lupin. We don't tend to be optimists."

"Former Death Eater," Lupin corrected, kissing him on the cheek.

"Cut that out, Lupin," Snape said, but in a halfhearted way, since by now it was obvious even to the boys that he didn't really mean it and that Lupin never listened to him anyway.

Dylan and Theodore smiled. "Okay," Dylan said. "Hermione, Damien, Blaise and Allegra, Serafina, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. I think that about covers it."

"What about Harry and Ron?" Lupin suggested in a slightly too-casual manner. "And perhaps Ginny, since she's Ron's sister and Dylan's classmate."

"What?!" Theodore shouted.

"It would only be polite," Lupin said mildly, "since Harry invited you to his party."

"I didn't ask him to! I didn't even want to go, remember?" Theodore protested. "Professor," he wailed, turning to Snape for support, "we don't have to invite the Gryffindors to our party, do we?"

Snape hesitated, looking from the pleading face of his foster son to that of his lover, whose deceptively mild and reasonable expression disguised the stubborn glint in his blue eyes. "Ah...well..." Snape temporized, stalling for time. He wanted to side with Theodore, but he knew that Lupin wasn't going to budge on this one, and he hated losing an argument in public. Maybe it would be better just to agree with Lupin and avoid the humiliation. On the other hand, he couldn't quite bring himself to actually invite Potter into his home. Severus Snape, hero of the war, who had not hesitated to risk his life spying on the Death Eaters, decided to take the coward's way out. "I just remembered...I have some business to attend to at school," he said, rising from his seat. "I...ah...need to meet with the Headmaster regarding my lesson plans--"

"In the middle of the night?" Lupin asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You exaggerate, Lupin," Snape snapped. "It's early evening, and besides, you know the old man keeps odd hours!"

"It's not really respectful to refer to the Headmaster as 'the old man,' now is it, Severus?" Lupin chided. "You have to set a good example for the children."

"If the old man wanted more respectful employees, he shouldn't have hired a former Death Eater and two werewolves!" snarled Snape. "Your friend Bleddri isn't exactly Mr. Manners himself, either. I also have some potion ingredients at my office that I need to pick up for your Wolfsbane Potion--unless you'd prefer to howl at the moon next month!"

"But Severus," Lupin called out as Snape headed to the fireplace, "what about the party plans?"

"It was your idea, Lupin; you handle it. I don't exactly have much experience planning birthday parties, after all." Theodore opened his mouth to make another plea, and Snape said hastily, "The three of you work it out amongst yourselves; I'll be back in a couple of hours." Then he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, shouted, "Hogwarts, Potions Master's office!" and fled.

Theodore gave the empty fireplace an accusing look. Dylan chuckled and leaned over to whisper into his foster brother's ear, "Remember what Snape said? That it's usually easier to give in to the werewolf when he has his mind set on something?"

"Do we really have to invite them?" Theodore asked plaintively, though he already knew the answer.

Lupin said gently, "Well, I'm sure Hermione would be more comfortable with a few of her own friends present. I know it's not easy for you--or for Harry and Ron, for that matter--but I think it's a good idea for all of you to learn to get along with each other. If Hermione and Dylan are going to...um...become friends, you'll be spending time around them, anyway; you had might as well start now. And I have ties to Gryffindor myself, remember? Surely we're not all bad..."

"You're different from most Gryffindors," Theodore muttered.

Lupin laughed, "I'll take that as a compliment!" He gave his foster sons a tender and loving smile, and Theodore felt his resistance crumble.

"Oh, all right!" he groaned, as Dylan laughed. Lupin laughed as well, giving both boys a hug, and suddenly the idea of having a few Gryffindors at his birthday party didn't seem so bad to Theo after all.

*** 

Snape puttered about his office, working on his lesson plans for the coming school year and picking up the potion ingredients he had told Lupin he needed. He didn't really need them, of course, but it never hurt to have a little extra on hand, just in case a batch of potion got ruined, and it had provided a convenient excuse to leave. Although he probably hadn't fooled anyone, he had to admit to himself; maybe it would have been less humiliating to stay and give in to Lupin, after all.

Oh well; the boys had to learn to stand up for themselves and fight their own battles--although if Snape, a hardened Death Eater, was no match for the werewolf, two teenage boys were hardly likely to fare any better.

"The werewolf is ruining my reputation," he complained to the empty room, but smiled, since there was no there to see it. He was glad to have the werewolf around, even if Lupin did drive him crazy at times. Of course, the werewolf drove him crazy in more ways than one...Snape spotted a dusty bottle of brandy next to some potion ingredients, and pulled it down from the shelf. Perhaps he and Lupin could have a nightcap together after the boys went to bed. Yes, that sounded nice...sharing a drink together in front of the fire, warmed by the alcohol and the flames, and later, sharing the warmth of their bodies together in bed...

Snape glanced at the clock on the wall; he still had some time to kill before heading back home, and Lupin's gift to Potter had given him an idea. He could buy expensive books or Quidditch equipment for Dylan's birthday present, but he had something that he thought his foster son would value even more, if he could find it. He gathered his things and headed to his personal quarters. 

He pushed aside the robes in his closet and pulled out a cardboard box he had shoved back there about sixteen years ago, when he had first started teaching at Hogwarts; it contained mementos from a past that he had wanted to forget, and he had not touched it since. He opened the box and began removing its contents: a framed family portrait of himself and his parents, posing stiffly, none of them smiling; academic awards he had received as a student; notes from his fifth-year Summoning project with Lupin; books on the Dark Arts he had obtained as a Death Eater, which were definitely on the Ministry's proscribed list and could have gotten him arrested if anyone from the Ministry knew that he still had them; and there, on the very bottom of the box, the envelope he was looking for. 

It contained photos of himself, Lyall Wilkes, Evan Rosier, and Ariane Donner, taken at a housewarming party to celebrate Evan and Ariane moving into their new flat together shortly after graduation. Snape had not exactly been close friends with the trio, but he had helped cover for Evan when he was sneaking around seeing Ariane in secret, and Evan had warmed to him after that. He suspected that was why Evan had invited him to the party, since he had helped in a small way to facilitate their romance. Snape stared at the pictures and his thoughts drifted back to the past...

*** 

"Listen, Snape," Evan said, "if Malfoy asks where I am, tell him I'm in the library, okay?"

"Do you really think he'll believe that, Rosier?" Snape asked sarcastically. "You're not exactly a model student."

Evan grinned. "Tell him I snuck into the restricted section of the library to look up curses to cast on the Gryffindors."

"That he might believe," Snape said, with a small, sardonic smile. "But why don't you get Wilkes to cover for you?"

"Because he won't believe Lyall, but he'll believe you."

Snape crossed his arms and gave Evan a cold look. "That's because Lyall is willing to get into trouble for your sake, but I'm not. You're going to meet that Ravenclaw girl, aren't you? Why should I risk Malfoy's wrath for the sake of your romance?"

"Oh, come on, Severus," Evan cajoled. "I'll return the favor if you ever want to sneak off and meet a girl."

Snape snorted. "Like that will ever happen." Even if he had been interested in girls, there weren't any who would find him attractive; the Gryffindors weren't the only ones who teased him about his beaky nose and greasy hair. But he didn't want girls; he only wanted Lupin, who claimed that his hair was shiny, not greasy and that his nose was distinguished and hawklike. Personally, Snape thought that Lupin needed glasses, but if the beautiful Gryffindor boy thought that he was handsome, then who was Snape to argue? 

He suddenly felt a sense of comradeship with Rosier; they were both carrying on clandestine romances that would get them in big trouble with Malfoy if he ever found out. He couldn't let Evan know that, though; he couldn't risk anyone finding out about himself and Lupin until they graduated, because Malfoy would see Snape's romance with a Gryffindor boy as a kind of defection, a betrayal of Slytherin House. He might even hurt Lupin...Snape repressed a shudder at that thought. So although Snape had already decided that he was going to help Evan, he feigned reluctance so that Evan would not be suspicious. "Easy for you to pledge a favor that you know I'll never need."

"I'll make it worth your while, Snape," Evan pleaded, beginning to look a little desperate. "What do you want?"

Snape paused, pretending to think about it. "A favor. Not a favor to help me romance a girl--just an open-ended favor, whenever I decide to call on it. On your word as the Rosier heir."

Evan was reckless and impulsive, but he wasn't stupid. Slytherins rarely pledged a favor when they didn't know what they might be called upon to do. "That's asking for a lot, Snape. You're basically asking me to write you a blank check."

Snape shrugged. "Take it or leave it, Evan. Besides, it's not totally one-sided...it's not a bad thing to make an ally of the Snape heir, after all." Evan hesitated. "And I'll continue to cover for you when you want to meet Ariane."

"Done!" Evan said. He and Snape shook hands, then Evan ran off to his secret tryst.

Later, in the Slytherin common room, Lucius Malfoy asked Snape, "Have you seen Rosier?"

Snape shrugged. "Last I saw, he was in the library trying to sneak into the restricted area. I left because I didn't want Madam Pince to think I was with him if she caught him; I've had my fill of serving detention." 

Malfoy's suspicious expression relaxed a little. "What was he looking for?"

Snape shrugged again, looking bored. "New curses to try out on the Gryffindors, I think." Then he smiled slyly. "If he actually manages to find some without getting caught, then maybe I'll help him..."

Malfoy laughed. "I thought you said you had enough of detention, Snape! You won't avoid it hanging around with Rosier and Wilkes."

"That's true enough," Snape agreed. "But I do like to see Black and Potter taken down a peg or two."

Malfoy smiled, smugly and knowingly. "Oh, the Gryffindors will get their just desserts, Sev...eventually. Play your cards right, and perhaps you can have a role in taking them down."

Malfoy had been dropping hints of late, of a secret organization that would advance its members to the top of the wizarding elite, of a mentor willing to teach the Dark spells that Hogwarts forbade. Snape was intrigued, but he knew that it would be dangerous to get entangled with Malfoy's plots now that he had Lupin to worry about, so he just smiled and said noncommittally, "Perhaps." And Lupin wouldn't approve of him learning the Dark Arts, idealistic Gryffindor that he was; Snape felt a pang of regret for a missed opportunity, but he would rather give up his chance to learn the Dark Arts than risk losing Lupin.

But then he did lose Lupin, and he no longer cared what anyone thought of him--not Lupin, not Dumbledore who had pretended to be his friend but always sided with the Gryffindors, and not even his favorite teacher Professor Blackmore, who told him that Lucius Malfoy and his cronies weren't really his friends. As if he didn't know that already! Snape didn't want any friends; he would settle for having political allies, and at least he wouldn't be surprised if they betrayed him, since that was what was expected in Slytherin politics.

Ariane's mother found out about her secret romance from one of her housemates, and threatened to disown her, even take her out of Hogwarts if she didn't break it off immediately. And that was how Lucius Malfoy caught Snape and Evan in a weak moment, both of them half-mad with grief and anger. Malfoy said in a silky voice to Snape, "I can give you enough power to bring your enemies low," and to Evan, "enough power to deal with meddling parents and win your lady fair." And so the two boys, eager for revenge, agreed to meet with Malfoy's mysterious mentor.

Lord Voldemort was a compelling and charismatic figure; the force of his personality had a nearly tangible aura even though he mostly hid his face within the shadowy folds of the hood of his black robes, with only the red glint of his eyes visible. Other times he masked his features with a glamor, appearing as a handsome, dark-haired man. Some of his young followers believed that his red-eyed visage was also a glamor that he used in order to appear more mysterious and intimidating; others said that it was real, that his magical experiments with the Dark Arts had transformed his face into something hideous, and that was why he hid his face or disguised it with magic. No one quite dared to ask Voldemort the truth, though.

Voldemort--or the Dark Lord, as his disciples referred to him--promised to uphold the teachings of Salazar Slytherin and rid the school of Mudbloods and half-breeds, and more, to dethrone the Muggle-lovers and blood traitors who held sway in society. They would become the elite, he promised, the rulers of the wizarding world. 

"We are bound together by our ideals and ambition," the Dark Lord told his disciples. "Together we can accomplish what no one of us could accomplish alone. Some of your families are committed to my cause." He smiled approvingly at Lucius Malfoy. "While others have family members who, alas, are somewhat...misguided." He glanced at Regulus Black, who grimaced at the thought of his wayward Gryffindor brother. "I myself have no living family of my own. But it matters not. We--" He spread his arms out in a sweeping gesture, to include everyone in the room. "--are all family now. True family, bound by ties stronger than blood. Pledge loyalty to me, and likewise will I do to you, and teach you, protect you, and guide you, and together we will claim what is rightfully ours."

His voice was so persuasive, so hypnotic, that Snape almost believed him. He had been alone all his life, except for his brief friendship and romance with Lupin, and he desperately wanted to take what Voldemort was offering, and finally have a family, one that would care for him and protect him the way his parents never had, and finally, perhaps, to have some friends--ones who would be loyal to him the way the Marauders were to each other.

But he could not quite bring himself to do it. After Lupin's betrayal, something had hardened inside him, like a sliver of ice in his heart, ever-present and always aching, yet somehow numbing him at the same time. He could not bring himself to let down his guard completely and risk letting someone else hurt him the way Lupin had. So he smiled and nodded along with everyone else, but secretly held himself aloof from them. He still intended to remain one of the Dark Lord's followers and reap the benefits of the Dark Arts lessons and a position of power in the future, but he would never consider them his family. He doubted that Lucius Malfoy did, either; Malfoy cared for nothing but his own ambition. That was fine with Snape; even if he didn't consider the Dark Lord and his followers to be family, they could still have a mutually beneficial relationship.

But others did seem to be impressed by Voldemort's words: Evan and Lyall, who listened raptly, their faces filled with awe; Regulus Black, who nodded enthusiastically as the Dark Lord spoke; the Lestrange brothers and Bellatrix Black, their eyes shining with fanatic zeal; and Lorcan Foley, who was staring at Voldemort with a look of utter devotion, tears filling his eyes. Snape looked away, finding such a raw and naked display of emotion to be distasteful and unnerving. Lorcan had even better reason than Snape to want a surrogate family: his father was a bully and a sadist, and it was an open secret in Slytherin House that he abused Lorcan, and it was also whispered that his mother had not died of illness as had been officially reported, but that she had been beaten to death by Mr. Foley. Lorcan eventually became a full-fledged Death Eater, and their Master rewarded him by allowing him to torture his father to death in a Blood Magic ritual.

Snape would later tell himself that he hadn't known that Voldemort actually intended to have them murder people and start a revolution, that he had assumed it was merely more political game-playing, but the signs had been there for him to read; he had simply pretended not to see them. In a way, he had been as stupid as Regulus Black, believing that he could extricate himself later if things got ugly. But he soon realized that he had been wrong, when he took the Dark Mark and witnessed his first execution--Voldemort would never let anyone just walk away from him.

So Snape turned coat and became a spy for Dumbledore, and felt even more alone than he had before. He had found a sense of belonging with the Death Eaters, even if he had never fully given himself over to them, and had developed a kind of camaraderie with Evan and Lyall. They were not friends, exactly--or at least, only casual friends, not close ones, but it had been better than nothing. They were the only two people in Slytherin that he had actually liked, but then, it was difficult to dislike Evan, who was always so charming, and Lyall, who was always cheerful and good-natured. Even though he knew he was doing the right thing by spying for the Order, he still felt guilty for betraying his two almost-friends. He knew they would never forgive him if they found out, but that was the least of his worries--he was very afraid that they were going to wind up dead or in Azkaban before all this was over.

But making Evan suspicious would also make Voldemort suspicious, so Snape, with long experience, hid his emotions and continued to socialize with Rosier and Wilkes as if nothing had changed.

Snape's parents did not quite approve of his "friendship" with Malfoy and the others; they probably suspected that he was a Death Eater, although they never asked him about it. On the other hand, Lucius's father was too powerful a man to offend, so neither did they openly object. But the atmosphere at home was rather tense, so Snape moved out not long after graduating and being Marked. He probably would have moved out anyway, actually, since escaping his home had been his fondest dream--at least until he met Lupin. 

Voldemort, through the Malfoys, obtained a job for Snape as a researcher, but it was only for show. Or rather, his real job was to research Dark spells, potions, and poisons for his Master, to teach those spells to his fellow Death Eaters, and to brew the potions and poisons that his Master commanded him to. The job paid enough for him to rent a small flat on his own, although he didn't enjoy his newfound freedom very much, since he was not really free at all, being bound to both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix.

After being disowned, Ariane stayed with Evan at the Rosier mansion for a short time, but his indulgent parents gave him enough money to put down a deposit on a flat of their own. Lyall also rented an apartment in the same building. Evan decided to throw a housewarming party, and decided, on a whim, to invite Snape.

Lyall showed up with a bottle of wine, while Snape brought a chocolate cake for dessert. He was struck by the absurdity of the situation: four young wizards taking time out from their busy schedule of killing Mudbloods and plotting to take over the world in order to have a dinner party! With morbid amusement, he thought that perhaps he should have decorated the cake with sugar skulls--that ought to be appropriate for a Death Eater party, after all.

"I see you still have a sweet-tooth, Snape," Evan said with a grin. "Just as well; at least we'll have something to eat if Ari ruins dinner!"

Ariane laughed as she stirred a pot on the stove. "Well, I never really had to cook before!" she protested. "The house-elves did all the cooking at home--just as they do at your house, Evan! I'd like to see you do better."

"Just teasing, my love," Evan said, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her on the cheek. "Besides, this morning's toast wasn't too bad, once we scraped off the burnt parts..." Ariane raised her spoon in a threatening gesture, and Evan threw his arm up in front of his face, as if to ward off the coming blow. "Just kidding!" Then he pulled her close and kissed her. "I love a woman with a temper!" he declared.

Snape regarded Evan's and Ariane's antics with a sour look. Although he had helped cover up for Evan out of sympathy when he had been sneaking around seeing Ariane on the sly at Hogwarts, he resented them for remaining together when he and Lupin had broken up. Ariane had sacrificed her House standing, her fortune, and even her family for Evan, while Lupin couldn't even bring himself to stand up to his friends for Snape's sake. Then again, Snape thought bitterly, why should he? Evan was handsome and charming; Snape was neither. Who in their right mind would give up the friendship of Potter and Black, the two most popular boys in the school, for a Slytherin misfit who didn't have any real friends even in his own House?

"Cheer up, Snape," Lyall said, mistaking the reason for his sour expression. "There's not much you can do to ruin spaghetti, after all." He paused. "At least, I hope not."

"I may lose my appetite just watching those two," Snape complained, watching the pair kiss and coo like a couple of newlyweds.

"Hey, tone it down you two!" Lyall obligingly called out. "There's only so much billing and cooing we can take without throwing up, after all!"

Evan and Ariane pulled apart, laughing. "Someday you'll fall head over heels in love, Lyall, and then I'll have the last laugh!" Evan told his friend. "Maybe someday even Snape will fall in love--that I'd like to see!"

Lyall doubled over laughing at the thought of a besotted Snape fawning over some girl, while Snape repressed a strong desire to throttle Evan. "Never happen, Rosier," Snape said lightly, acting as if the joke didn't faze him. "I'm a Snape; I don't have a heart."

Snape's father, along with most of the previous Snape Lords, had a reputation as a cold, calculating bastard--a trait that was for the most part admired rather than scorned among the pureblood Slytherin elite. And Snape's mother was sometimes referred to as "the Ice Queen" behind her back (although never to her face) by the other pureblood women for her air of hauteur and icy composure which was impressive even by Slytherin standards. Evan and Lyall both laughed, then dropped the subject, and Ariane served dinner.

Lyall was right; the spaghetti was edible, if not exactly gourmet cooking, and the wine washed it down nicely. As they ate, Snape noticed a ring glittering on Ariane's left hand--a near duplicate of the one Evan wore as the Rosier heir, if a bit more slender and delicate, being made for a woman's hand rather than a man's: silver engraved with a design of thorny vines, set with a red stone cut to resemble a rose. Snape said nothing, but Evan noticed the direction of his gaze and said, "That is an engagement ring; my gift to Ariane."

"Congratulations," Snape said, although he was a bit puzzled. Evan had sworn that he would make the Donners agree to their marriage; had he changed his mind? Personally, Snape thought that hell would freeze over before Deirdre Donner would allow a Slytherin to marry her daughter, so Evan had might as well go ahead and marry her now, with or without Deirdre's consent. "Have you set a date?"

Evan smiled, but his eyes were filled with anger and malice and determination. "I will marry Ariane when we triumph over the Muggle-lovers and take our rightful places as the rulers of the wizarding world. On that day I will make the Donners bow down to Ariane and grovel at her feet to beg her forgiveness. They will beg me to marry her, for as a gift to my wife, I shall spare their worthless lives. On that day I will marry her, and not before; we shall wed in triumph and glory, not run off and elope like thieves in the night." 

Caught up in his vision of revenge, he did not see the wistful look that briefly passed over his lover's face; Snape suspected that Ariane would prefer to elope now rather than wait for that day of triumph and glory. Then Evan turned to Ariane and his expression softened as he lifted her hand to his lips. "But to prove my honorable intentions to my lady--" He kissed her fingertips. "--I have given her this ring as a token of my pledge to make her Lady Rosier someday. You shall be Lady Donner and Lady Rosier, my love, and rule over not one, but two, estates."

Ariane smiled back at him, showing no sign of any misgivings she might have. "I shall be pleased to rule by your side, my love. But I would still marry you whether you were a prince or a pauper."

"Whoa," Lyall laughed, "you guys are starting to sound like a bad play! Just remember there's only so much lovey-doveyness that Snape and I can take in one day!"

Evan and Ariane smiled, and then Lyall and Evan began talking, in vague and veiled terms, of how great things would be when the purebloods were "in charge of things". Snape thought they sounded almost like first-years spinning fantasies about how someday when they grew up they'd become famous Quidditch players or mighty wizards like Salazar Slytherin or something equally improbable. They still hadn't realized what Snape already had: that even if Voldemort won the war, he was never going to share his power with his followers. There was room for only one ruler and that was the Dark Lord; everyone else would become his slaves. The Death Eaters might be favored slaves, but they were still slaves nonetheless. Snape wondered just how much Ariane knew; he had never seen her at any of their secret meetings or ceremonies, but unless she was a complete idiot, she had to realize that Evan was a Death Eater--and she would never have been Sorted into Ravenclaw if she had been an idiot.

To Snape's relief, the conversation eventually turned to safer, more trivial topics, such who was dating or getting engaged to whom in their social circle. Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange had recently gotten engaged, and Lucius Malfoy was said to be paying court to Bellatrix's younger sister, Narcissa--probably at his parents' behest. Lucius enjoyed playing the field, dispensing his favors freely among both sexes, but his parents were eager to see him settle down and produce an heir. "I'm sure they'll make beautiful blonde babies together," Evan said with a mocking smile. "I'm not sure which of the two is blonder, prettier, or more vain."

"Lucius, definitely," Ariane said, and they all laughed.

Snape was almost enjoying himself as they lingered over wine and cake (which had been store-bought, of course; Snape's cooking skills weren't any better than Ariane's). Suddenly Lyall took out a camera and said, "We should take some pictures of your new home for posterity! You know, to show your kids one day or something. 'This was Mummy and Daddy's first apartment. This is the kitchen where Mummy used to burn dinner...'"

Ariane picked up the bottle of wine and said, "Lyall, if you don't want to be wearing this instead of drinking it..."

Evan quickly plucked the bottle out of her hand and refilled his glass. "But that would be a waste of good wine, my dear!"

Lyall took several pictures of the happy couple posing in their apartment. Then he said, "Hey, how about one of you guys with Snape?"

Snape looked up in alarm. "No, we wouldn't want to scare Evan's hypothetical children, after all," he joked nervously. In an attempt to distract Lyall, he said, "Here, give me the camera, and I'll take a picture of you three."

Lyall allowed him to take the picture, but then grinned and said, "Come on, Snape, I'm not letting you off that easy."

"But--"

"Aw, come on, Severus," Evan said, perhaps feeling a little mellow because of the wine, the euphoria of moving in with his lady-love, or both. He grabbed Snape's arm and pulled him over. "You may not be as pretty as Lucius, but it's not like you'll break the camera or anything."

"You're too kind, Evan," Snape said sarcastically.

"C'mon, Snape, smile," Lyall urged as he snapped the picture. "You look so gloomy!"

"I am smiling," Snape said sourly without changing his expression, and his three companions laughed. Lyall set the timer on the camera, positioned it on a shelf across the room, then hurried over to join his friends, just in time as the flash went off.

*** 

Snape sighed as he stared down at the photographs. Evan was never able to keep his promise to marry Ariane, and Lyall never had the chance to fall head over heels in love. Within a few years, both men would be dead, leaving Ariane to bear Evan's son, who would never know his father, alone. Snape had never called in the favor Evan owed him, although he had considered doing so to try and convince Evan to leave the Death Eaters. But he never did, because it would have been too dangerous. Evan Rosier had been an honorable man, in his own way, but faced with conflicting loyalties, his devotion to Voldemort probably would have overruled his need to repay his debt to Snape.

Snape still felt guilty that he hadn't tried harder to save Evan and Lyall, but reminded himself that Professor Blackmore had done her best to save them and failed as well; even the news that Ariane was pregnant had not convinced Evan to surrender. Evan had everything that Snape did not--a loving family, a devoted lover who had given up everything for him, and an unborn son who would no doubt have been equally devoted to him--yet he had thrown it all away, along with his life, for Voldemort's sake.

"You threw away the chance to become a husband and a father," Snape said quietly. "And for what? For loyalty to your Master? He never mourned your death nor bothered to make sure that Ariane and your son would be provided for. Neither did your fellow Death Eaters; they were all too busy saving their own skins. You were a fool, Evan. Dylan is worth a hundred Death Eaters, a hundred Dark Lords. He is intelligent--if a bit too clever for his own good sometimes; he must get that from you--and loyal and compassionate. You'll never know what it's like, to see him look so proud when you praise his work in class, to have him cry on your shoulder when he's frightened or sad, to have him look at you with complete love and trust in his eyes even though you were the idiot who was careless enough to let Lucius Malfoy kidnap him and induct him into the Death Eaters. You'll never see the way his face lights up whenever that wretched Gryffindor girl is around; I wonder what you'd think about the fact that you'll most likely have a Muggle-born daughter-in-law in a few years. But I suppose I should be grateful; if you hadn't been stupid and gotten yourself killed, then Dylan wouldn't be my son now." 

Snape fell silent, shaken by that thought. Dylan had become so much a part of his life these past few years, that he could not imagine what life would be like without him. Snape shuddered, the very thought bringing back memories of the bleak and lonely years he had spent alone before reconciling with Lupin. Of course even if Evan miraculously rose from the dead to claim his son--or, more realistically, if Math and Goewin took custody of Dylan--then Remus would still be there to comfort Snape. But even with his lover by his side, a life without Dylan in it--or Theodore, for that matter--would seem somehow empty and lacking. Even though parenthood had brought with it some complications and problems that Snape had not expected, he still wouldn't change anything even if he could. Even if he could find another home for the boys where they would be safe, loved, and happy, he would never be able to give them up now and he knew that Lupin felt the same way. 

Lupin was looking particularly blissful and content--in fact, downright smug--these days and Snape knew it was because he finally had the family he'd always wanted, that he thought he would never be able to have. Snape had never particularly wanted children; growing up in the cold Snape household was a not an experience he would care to inflict on any hypothetical offspring, nor did he have any desire to raise a son who would hate him as much as he hated his own father. Having only his parents as role models to follow, it had never occurred to him that he might be able to do things differently and become a "wonderful parent" (as Molly Weasley had put it). Besides, once he had been with Lupin he knew that he would never be able to agree to the kind of political marriage his parents would arrange for him, and he had taken a bitter pleasure in being able to deny them the only thing that they really wanted from him: a Snape heir.

But somehow he had wound up with two foster sons, and even more surprisingly, he was happy about it. "You were a fool, Evan," Snape repeated, then laughed self-consciously. "And I'm an idiot, talking to a photograph of a dead man! That's the sort of thing a sentimental Gryffindor like Lupin would do." He put the photos back into the envelope, packed up everything else and put the box back into the closet, then gathered up his things and headed home.

"So, did you get everything taken care of, Severus?" Lupin asked sweetly.

"Yes," Snape said calmly, not rising to the bait. "Did you three get the party plans settled?"

"Yes," Lupin replied. Theodore was still looking a bit sulky, so Snape supposed that meant that Potter was being invited. "We'll need to send out the invitations soon, and stop by Diagon Alley to do some shopping."

"Very well," Snape sighed.

"If it makes you two feel any better," Lupin told Snape and Theodore in a mischievous voice, "I'm sure Harry and Ron will be just as...enthusiastic...about being invited as you are." 

Snape cheered up a little at that thought, recalling how much Potter and Weasley loathed and dreaded his Potions classes; the thought of adding a small blight to their otherwise idyllic summer vacation offered some consolation. Judging by the look on his face, a similar thought had occurred to Theodore, and the two Slytherins exchanged nearly identical sadistic grins.

Dylan and Lupin both laughed. "You're not allowed to give them detention during the summer, Severus," Lupin reminded him.

"You take all the fun out of everything, Lupin," Snape complained, pretending to sulk. Lupin just smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

Later, after the boys went to bed, Lupin said slyly, "You bolted out of here pretty fast, Sev; Theodore was a bit put out that you abandoned him. Are you that afraid of losing an argument with a werewolf? I guess that would be quite a blow to your Slytherin pride..."

"Be nice to me, Lupin," Snape said haughtily. "Or I won't share this with you." He took out the bottle of brandy. 

Lupin took it from him and read the label. "I'm no expert on these things, but this appears to be a very good vintage."

"Indeed it is, Lupin. One of the annual Christmas bribes--from the Goyles, I believe, several years back. Goyle's too stupid to remember that I don't drink, apparently--well, not much, anyway. But I thought I would make an exception tonight, and share a drink with you in front of the fire."

"There's no fire in the fireplace," Lupin pointed out. Snape pulled out his wand, flicked it carelessly, and there was instantly a cozy fire burning there. "Well, that takes care of that," Lupin laughed. He went to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboard. "I'm afraid that I don't have any brandy glasses," he said apologetically, taking down two glass tumblers. "These will have to do."

"It doesn't matter, Remus. It tastes the same, regardless."

Lupin poured the brandy into the glasses, saying, "Er...this was a gift from a Death Eater? Are you sure it hasn't been poisoned?"

Snape grinned. "Yes, because I tested it on Draco Malfoy first." He laughed as Lupin's blue eyes flew wide open. "Relax, Lupin, I wouldn't really use Draco as a guinea pig--mostly because his father would have killed me if anything had happened to him. As far as anyone knew back then, I was a loyal Death Eater; there was no reason for anyone to poison me. If even Lucius didn't suspect that I was a traitor, there's no way that idiot Goyle could have figured it out. It was back during Draco's fourth year, when the fake Moody transfigured him into a ferret for attacking Potter. I gave him some tea mixed with brandy to calm him down, and Mr. Malfoy is still alive and well, so I believe it's safe to drink."

"Ah yes," Lupin chuckled. "The incredible bouncing ferret; the Gryffindors still talk about it, you know. Poor Draco; I suppose, in a way, he deserved it, but Moody--er, the fake Moody--still went too far."

Snape chuckled as well, in his low, husky voice. "It was a good learning experience. It taught him that his father's name would not always protect him."

They took their glasses and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. Snape stared at Lupin, admiring the way the firelight cast red-gold highlights on his brown hair. Lupin smiled at him, then came over and sat on Snape's lap, leaned back against his chest, and sighed contentedly. Snape chuckled again and slipped his free arm around Lupin's waist. "Comfy, Lupin?"

"Very," Lupin replied. Although it was summer, nights in the woods were cool enough that the heat of the fire, while not necessary, was still pleasant, and he reveled even more in the warmth of his lover's body. He lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip of brandy; it really was a good vintage. He felt a warm glow slowly spreading through his body, and was not sure whether it was due more to the alcohol or to Severus.

Snape sipped his brandy, savoring the taste. The elder Goyle might be an idiot, but he had picked out a good vintage, or more likely, his wife had. Snape rarely drank alcohol, not because he didn't like the taste, but because he hated losing control of himself in even the slightest way, and such loss of control was especially dangerous for a double agent--a slip of the tongue or slowed reflexes due to overindulgence could have proved fatal. But the Dark Lord was dead and the Death Eaters defeated, and Snape felt free to relax a little with Lupin, the one person he completely trusted. 

The weight of Lupin's body resting against his was very pleasant, as was the cool silky smoothness of Lupin's hair brushing against his cheek. Snape nuzzled Lupin's hair gently, then pushed it to one side so that he could press his lips against the nape of Lupin's neck. The werewolf sighed again, but this time his sigh sounded less contented and more aroused. He leaned back again, pressing his body closer to Snape's and...well...wriggled (there was simply no other word for it!) in a deliberately provocative way. Not that a lapful of wriggling werewolf was unpleasant--quite the opposite!--but they were out in the living room where the boys could walk in on them at any time. "Stop that, you little tease!" 

"You started it," Lupin pouted, and wriggled again; Snape gasped. Lupin squirmed around further so that he was face-to-face with his lover. "Besides, it seemed to me that you liked it..."

*** 

Meanwhile, downstairs in the basement, Dylan and Theodore had gone to bed, but were too keyed up about the prospect of their party to sleep, so they lay awake, talking quietly. "I've never had a birthday party before," Dylan said. "I mean, of course my mother and aunt and uncle always bought me presents and made a cake, but I never had a real party, with friends over and stuff."

"I had parties," Theodore said, "but they weren't much fun. It was pretty much the same as it was at Hogwarts, with Draco bossing everyone around. My father would never have let me invite Blaise or Damien because their social standing wasn't high enough." 

"This party will be different," Dylan said. 

"Yeah, it should be fun," Theodore agreed, then scowled a little. "Even if we have to invite the Gryffindors."

Dylan laughed. "Come on, Potter's party wasn't that bad! The treasure hunt was fun--"

"Because you and Granger won," Theodore interrupted.

"--and wasn't it cool, riding the Hippogriff?"

"It was kind of scary."

"I bet the other kids at school will be green with envy when they find out."

Theodore grinned. "Did you see the way it gave Draco the evil eye?" He explained how Draco had provoked Buckbeak into attacking him, and how the Ministry had nearly executed the Hippogriff.

Dylan laughed. "No wonder it doesn't like Draco!"

"I can't sleep," Theodore said suddenly.

"I know, me too," Dylan said, grinning sheepishly. "We're like a couple of little kids who can't wait for Christmas. But it is our first real birthday party, after all."

"Do you think it's safe to sneak upstairs and get a snack or something?"

Dylan listened for a moment. "Sounds pretty quiet. They've probably gone to bed. Come on." But just to be on the safe side, they paused at the top of the stairs and opened the door a crack before entering the living room. They could see flames flickering in the fireplace, and their guardians seemed to be sitting on the floor in front of it, although the couch was blocking most of their view. They hesitated, trying to decide whether they should enter the room and announce themselves or just creep back downstairs to bed.

Stop that, you little tease!" Snape said.

"You started it," Lupin said in a petulant voice, then they heard Snape gasp. "Besides," Lupin continued, "it seemed to me that you liked it..." There were sounds of kissing and rustling cloth.

"Lupin!" Snape hissed. "Stop that! What if the boys walk in?"

"They went to bed ages ago."

"But what if they come upstairs to use the bathroom or get a drink of water or something?"

Lupin sighed regretfully, then laughed. "Don't get me wrong; I love the boys and I wouldn't trade having them here for anything, but there are times when I miss being able to pounce on you anywhere I please: here in front of the fireplace, the couch, the kitchen table..."

Theodore let out a little gasp, but fortunately Lupin and Snape were too preoccupied with each other to hear it, and Dylan quickly clapped a hand over his foster brother's mouth.

Snape laughed, a low and wicked sound. "Having a whole school filled with children didn't stop you, you little exhibitionist! How many times have you called me into your office for a 'quickie between classes'?"

Lupin laughed, sounding almost as wicked as Snape. "Ah, but you enjoyed having your way with me on the top of my desk, didn't you...?"

There were more kissing noises, followed by panting and heavy breathing, then Snape growled, "Let's take this into the bedroom, Lupin."

As the two men rose to their feet, Dylan quickly closed the door, then he and Theo very quietly retreated back down the stairs to their bedroom. "I think we'd better skip that snack," he said.

"I've lost my appetite," Theodore muttered, then burst out indignantly, "We eat off that kitchen table!"

"Well, actually we eat off plates that we put on the kitchen table," Dylan corrected him helpfully. "Besides, I'm sure that they used a cleaning spell afterwards..."

Theodore shuddered. "I don't even want to think about it!"

"Doing it on a table sounds like it would be kind of uncomfortable, though," Dylan said in an almost analytical tone, frowning a little.

"Will you stop that?! I'm never going to be able to look at that table again without picturing the two of them on it!"

"Do you suppose Remus has a table fetish?" Dylan wondered. "He did say something something about his desk at school..."

Theodore groaned, "I'm never going to be able to look at his office the same way again, either!"

"Well, at the very least, we should make sure to knock before entering his or Snape's office," Dylan said with a grin. "Or any teacher's office, for that matter--who knows how many of them might be carrying on secret affairs?"

"I don't want to think about it!" Theodore said. "I'm going to bed."

Dylan laughed. "Goodnight, Theo."

Theodore crawled into bed, grumbling, "Maybe you could Obliviate the memory of that conversation out of my head. I swear, I'm never going upstairs for a late-night snack ever again!"

*** 

The next morning, they found Lupin cooking breakfast in the kitchen, while Snape sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet, the same as always.

"Good morning, sleepyheads!" Lupin called out cheerfully. "I thought you were going to sleep right through breakfast. Ham and eggs sound good to you?"

"Sounds great," Dylan replied. "Do you need any help?"

"No, everything is just about done. Have a seat." As Lupin began filling their plates with food, he frowned at Theodore. "Are you feeling all right, Theo? You're looking a little flushed."

"No, I'm fine," Theodore hastily demurred as Dylan choked back a snicker. 

Lupin placed his hand on Theo's forehead. "You feel a little warm," he said, sounding worried. "Maybe you're coming down with something."

Snape looked up from his paper. "I can brew him a tonic if he's coming down with a cold or the flu."

"I'm fine, really!" Theodore insisted, while Dylan coughed to disguise his laughter.

"They both seem to be coming down with something," Snape said, giving the pair a suspicious look. "I have some Elixir of Vitality leftover from..." He hesitated, then decided it would be better not to mention that he had been brewing it for the Dark Lord, who obviously no longer needed it. He cleared his throat, then continued, "Well, I have some on hand, and I think that both Mr. Rosier and Mr. Nott should have a draught to stave off any potential illnesses." Snape grinned as his foster sons exchanged glum looks; they knew from experience, having brewed it in class, that the Elixir had a very unpleasant taste. It was an almost invariable rule that most potions that were good for you tasted horrible. It was possible to sweeten the taste of the Elixir with honey, but Snape never bothered with that since an underlying bitter aftertaste still remained and besides, medicine ought to taste like medicine, not candy. "Cheer up," Snape said mercilessly. "It's not half as bad as the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Yes, Professor," they chorused, obediently if not enthusiastically. He fetched the potion and watched over them sternly as they gulped it down, then began eating their breakfast in a much more subdued manner. Lupin smiled at Snape and shook his head a little, but said nothing. Snape just grinned and began eating his own breakfast, feeling quite pleased that he still had the ability to keep mischievous children in line despite the damage Lupin had done to his reputation.

*** 

Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle sent polite regrets that their sons would not be able to attend the birthday party because they would be out of town on vacation that week. Lupin paid the families a personal visit at the Goyles' house, and both women were cool but civil to him, not quite daring to be rude to a hero of the war, but he could read the distaste in their eyes behind their polite smiles. He suspected that it was not only Dylan's and Theodore's connection to the Death Eaters that Mrs. Crabbe and Mrs. Goyle objected to, but also his "tainted" werewolf blood. They might not have been Death Eaters like their husbands, but they were still snobbish and blood-conscious like most of the pureblood elite. Of course, it could also be his rather scandalous relationship with Severus that they objected to. Whatever the reason, they stubbornly refused to change their minds about the party, saying that they would be visiting family and that they could not change their plans at this late date. Vincent and Gregory were happy to see him, though, and were obviously disappointed that they would miss the party.

"I'm sure Dylan and Theo will be sorry that you can't make it," Lupin said, stretching the truth a bit for the sake of politeness. "But I do look forward to seeing you when school starts next month."

The boys' faces lit up, obviously cheered by that thought. Their mothers frowned, but the boys didn't seem to notice. "I can't wait for school to start!" Goyle said happily. "We've been studying our DADA books during the summer and working hard on our Patronuses! We can cast a full Patronus nearly every time now!" Crabbe elbowed him in the side, and Goyle exclaimed, "Oof! What was that for?"

"Students aren't supposed to be working magic outside of the school," Lupin reminded him gently.

"Oops," Goyle said sheepishly as Crabbe sighed and their mothers looked worried.

Lupin smiled and winked at them. "It will be our little secret. I think I can let it slide this once, since the two of you saved my life with your Patronus Charms. But I think you had better stick to simply reading your texts for the rest of the summer, understand?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," the boys chorused, and their mothers gave Lupin a grateful if slightly suspicious look.

Mrs. Goyle saw Lupin to the door when he left. She hesitated, then said in a slightly grudging tone, "Gregory's grades have gone up this year, along with Vincent's. They say it's because of you."

Lupin smiled and shook his head. "No, it's because of their own efforts. They've worked very hard this year; all I did was give them a little encouragement." He thought about telling her how Hermione had helped them in Incantations class, but decided that he should probably hold off--she and Mrs. Crabbe were having enough problems adjusting to the fact that their sons had befriended a werewolf, let alone a Mudblood friend of Harry Potter's.

"They're a little...slow," Mrs. Goyle reluctantly confessed.

"Each student learns at a different pace," Lupin said. "And it's job of their Professors to find the pace and method of teaching that works best for each student." He knew that Severus didn't agree with him--his Potions students were expected to keep up with the pace he set in class or fail--but Lupin decided not to mention this, at least not directly. "I think all they needed was a little individualized attention, and perhaps some of their teachers failed to realize that. Now that they've had a little success and gained some confidence, I think they'll do even better next term. I assure you that an incompetent wizard could not have cast a full Patronus at age sixteen or seventeen."

Mrs. Goyle gave him a look that, while not exactly friendly, was less hostile and even held a hint of respect. "Thank you for stopping by, Professor Lupin."

"It was my pleasure," Lupin said. "I look forward to seeing Gregory and Vincent in class this fall. Good day."

Mrs. Goyle stared after him, something about his words puzzling her, and then she realized what it was: no one but their families ever called the boys by their first names. She stood in the doorway, lost in thought, until Gregory called out, "Mum? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, and shut the door.

*** 

The day of the party arrived, and contrary to Snape's predictions, it was a beautiful and sunny day. Since the cottage was too small to comfortably hold everyone, Lupin and Snape conjured up a long table and benches out in the front yard. Lupin had prepared a few games for the children to play, though nothing as elaborate as Branwen's treasure hunt, and nothing requiring them to use magic, since he was mindful of the spellcasting prohibition for students even if Branwen wasn't. Then again, Branwen had always been a law unto herself, and like Severus, occasionally chose to flaunt the rules when it suited her. They did have a fireworks display courtesy of Fred and George, who had sent a Deflagration Deluxe set of fireworks along with Ron and Ginny.

Ron had nearly had a heart attack when his brothers told him they wanted to send a gift to the Slytherin boys. "Have you lost your minds?" he asked, looking at them suspiciously. "Are you really my brothers, or a couple of impostors using a Polyjuice Potion?"

"Don't be daft, you stupid git!" Fred said cheerfully, punching Ron lightly on the upper arm. "Rosier saved my life during the battle, remember?"

"He's not so bad for a Slytherin," George added. 

So now Ron sat watching the fireworks display with everyone else as Allegra Zabini oohed and ahed over it delightedly. Hermione and Ginny smiled at the younger girl with an indulgent, big-sisterly air. Ron crossed his arms and sulked a little; what was the world coming to, with the Gryffindors suddenly becoming chummy with the Slytherins? Even his own family had turned traitor, he thought to himself darkly.

"Oh, stop sulking, Ron," Ginny whispered. "We're all on the same side now, remember? Dylan's a nice boy, and I don't really know Theodore very well, but he must be okay or Professor Lupin wouldn't have adopted him."

"Professor Lupin isn't exactly the best judge of character," Ron whispered back. "He likes everyone, even Crabbe and Goyle. Not to mention Snape."

"Yeah, well, he likes you, too," Ginny retorted, "so I guess it's true there's no accounting for taste! Now shush and watch the fireworks."

Harry smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder sympathetically. "Cheer up, Ron," he said softly. "It's a different world now, but it's not so bad. At least we don't have to worry about Voldemort and the Death Eaters anymore."

"That's true," Ron grudgingly acknowledged. Then he noticed that Zabini's sister was staring at them instead of the fireworks now, with a wide-eyed look of awe. "What?" he asked. "Do I have dirt on my face or something?"

Allegra giggled and walked over to where the Gryffindors were sitting (on the opposite end of the table from the Slytherins, except for Hermione, who was sitting in the middle next to Dylan). "No, it's just that I've seen your pictures in the Daily Prophet," she said. "You're Ron Weasley, aren't you? Your dad is the new Minister of Magic. And you're Harry Potter, right? You fought in the Final Battle." They could almost hear the capital letters in her voice, using the dramatic designation the Daily Prophet had given the battle. "Like my brother and his friends." She sighed enviously. "It must have been exciting."

"Well, we did battle some giants," Ron said, preening a little despite himself.

"Yes," Allegra said, sounding impressed, "I read about that. You guys defeated the giant king, didn't you?"

"Actually," Ginny interjected before Ron could say anything, "it was Hagrid's brother Grawp who did that."

"Well," Ron said defensively, "we helped."

"What was it like fighting You-Know-Who?" Allegra asked Harry, who suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

"Uh...well...I..." Harry stammered, but was spared from having to reply when Blaise came over and firmly took his sister by the arm. 

"I apologize for my sister," he said. "She doesn't mean any harm."

"It's okay," a relieved Harry said. 

Blaise dragged Allegra back to the other end of the table, saying, "Don't you remember what Professor Snape said about Slytherins having to be circumspect?"

"I was just asking him a question!" she protested.

Harry and Ron gave the girl a bemused look as Hermione and Ginny laughed.

"She's cute," Ginny said.

"She doesn't behave like a Slytherin," Harry said, feeling a little puzzled. "She doesn't even behave anything like her brother." Blaise Zabini seemed like a decent sort for a Slytherin, but he was quiet and reserved while his sister had laughed and chattered gaily throughout the party.

"Family members aren't always alike, Harry," Ginny said with a smile. "Could Percy be any more different than Fred and George?"

"I guess you're right," Harry said, then looked a little wistful. "I've never had any brothers or sisters, so I wouldn't know." Ginny smiled at him and reached across her brother to pat Harry's hand in a consoling manner. He found himself flushing a little, and was both relieved and disappointed when her hand moved away from his. Ron saw this and said nothing, but nudged Harry in the side with his elbow and smiled slyly.

Meanwhile, Dylan was enjoying himself immensely. For a change, both Draco and the Gryffindor boys were on their best behavior, and everyone seemed to be having a good time--even Serafina was smiling as Allegra chattered away at her. Serafina was as silent as she always was, but Allegra talked enough for the both of them and didn't seem to expect any response except for a nod every now and then. 

In spite of his complaints about having to invite the Gryffindors, Theo was happy because Blaise was here. And Dylan was happy because Hermione was here; like Theo and Blaise, they sat close to each other, almost-but-not-quite touching. He noted with pleasure that she was wearing the silver charm bracelet he had given her for Christmas; it was too bad that it was summer, or he would have worn the scarf that had been her Christmas gift to him. 

He glanced over at the adults (Sirius Black and Professor Blackmore had come along with Potter) and saw that Lupin was leaning against Snape, his head resting on Snape's shoulder. Snape shot the werewolf an annoyed look that was obviously just for show, because he didn't push Lupin away. Dylan hastily averted his gaze, but continued watching them out of the corner of his eye and saw Snape snake his arm around Lupin in a stealthy manner when he thought no one was looking. Dylan had noticed that Lupin had started wearing a quartz good-luck charm as a pendant right about the same time that Snape had started wearing a serpent-shaped bracelet and ring, when both men had never worn jewelry before, and he wondered if those were love-tokens. 

Probably. Dylan grinned; who would ever have thought that Snape might have a romantic streak in him? Sirius had put an arm around Professor Blackmore and was whispering something into her ear as she laughed, and Dylan felt a bit envious of his teachers. Hermione had obviously been pleased to see him, but he sensed that she was holding back a little, keeping up a slight air of reserve that stopped him from putting his arm around her the way he would have liked to; probably she was afraid of upsetting her friends. Well, tough luck; they would just have to get used to it, and so would Draco, for that matter. On the other hand, he didn't want to get on Hermione's bad side by antagonizing her friends, so he supposed he'd have to move slowly.

He tapped her on the shoulder and let his eyes slide over towards Snape and Lupin without moving his head. Hermione, as always, immediately picked up on the hint and glanced over without being obvious about it. When she saw Lupin snuggled up against the Potions Master, she quickly lifted her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "They're such a cute couple, aren't they?" she whispered into his ear.

Dylan wasn't sure that "cute" was the word he would use, but he nodded agreeably. He didn't know exactly why, but Hermione and Ginny, along with a great many of the other female students, seemed to find the two Professors' unlikely love affair very romantic, once they had gotten over their initial shock. 

"Forbidden love," Pansy had said dramatically. "It's quite romantic, don't you think? 

Maybe that's why Professor Snape's family disowned him--not because he was a Death Eater; he was never convicted, after all--but because he refused to marry and sire an heir because he was in love with Professor Lupin." The other Slytherin girls had sighed and nodded; Dylan knew that wasn't the case, but had refrained from enlightening the girls and bursting their bubble. He idly wondered if Selima Snape had learned of her son's romance yet--surely she must have, with the way gossip traveled in the wizarding world, and the hints Rita Skeeter had dropped in the Daily Prophet. Lady Snape was as formidable as her son, and Dylan was very glad that he had not been there to witness her reaction.

Dylan grinned and whispered to Hermione, "Snape's favorite phrase seems to be, 'Cut that out, Lupin'. But he never really stops Lupin from doing whatever he wants."

Hermione giggled again. "I knew all along that Professor Snape was a good person, once we found out that he had saved Harry during that first-year Quidditch match," she said smugly. "But Harry and Ron refused to believe me."

Dylan laid his hand over hers and squeezed it. "Well, I'm glad that you had faith in us Slytherins." She smiled and flushed. Dylan let his hand remain where it was, and Hermione didn't try to pull hers away. That would do to start with, he decided. Weasley glared at them, but Hermione didn't notice, and Dylan pretended not to.

Snape saw Dylan and Hermione giggling and whispering together, but fortunately for them, he thought they were just behaving like two normal infatuated teenagers and didn't realize that they were talking about him. He had felt a little embarrassed when Lupin had laid his head on his shoulder during the fireworks display, but he secretly enjoyed it at the same time, and unobtrusively slipped his arm around Lupin, hoping that no one would notice. When he had been a teenager, he had been envious of his classmates who could openly walk around holding hands with their girlfriends or dance with them at the Yule Ball, even sneak off behind the rose bushes, and most of the teachers would wink and ignore it as long as things didn't get too far out of hand, while he and Lupin had been forced to keep their brief romance under wraps. 

Part of him had been glad to keep it a secret, something too precious to be shared with anyone else, while another part of him had wanted to declare to the world that Lupin belonged to him. If it hadn't been too dangerous, he would have, and be damned with his reputation and the fact that his father would have disowned him (which he did anyway); it would have been worth it to wipe that sneer off James Potter's face, to see the shock on his and Black's faces when they realized that their best friend was in love with "that slimy Slytherin". 

Unconsciously, his arm tightened around Lupin. Ah well, at least he'd had the belated pleasure of seeing Black's outrage (even if they had eventually reached a truce), and it was a small consolation to know that Potter senior would be spinning in his grave right now if he could see his best friend snuggled up against Snape and his son here at Snape's sons' birthday party.

Lupin smiled as he saw his lover grin. He didn't know what Severus was thinking, but it was no doubt something wicked. "A fireworks display," he whispered to Severus. "Very romantic, don't you think?"

"Granger and Rosier seem to think so," Snape said in a sour tone that was almost perfunctory.

"They make a cute couple," Lupin said, and Snape snorted in a most unromantic way, but Lupin just laughed.

Theodore sat next to Blaise wishing that they could hold hands the way Dylan and Granger were doing. He didn't think that most of the people at the table would particularly care; Draco and Damien already knew about the two of them, and he suspected that Lupin did as well. He doubted that Sera would care one way or the other; if anything, she would probably be relieved that they wouldn't have to get married as their parents had planned. He was certain that the Gryffindor boys had no clue, being a bit dense and priggish, and it would probably be amusing to see their reaction if he kissed Blaise right here and now in front of everyone. 

But it was clear that Allegra couldn't keep her mouth shut, and he couldn't risk word getting back to Blaise's parents right now. He wasn't sure how Snape would react, either; as a parent, he probably wouldn't object, but as the Head of Slytherin, he was supposed to prevent his students from having "inappropriate relations"--at least in theory. In practice, he ignored any fooling around (between any combination of genders) that went on in the dorms so long as the participants were discreet and didn't do anything that would cause an uproar that would force him to take action. And if he and Blaise made a spectacle of themselves here today, that would probably be something that Professor Snape could not ignore. At the very least, the Zabinis would once again insist that their son be moved to a different dorm room, and that was the last thing Theo wanted.

So he sat quietly next to his lover, for the moment content just to be in his presence. And every now and then Blaise would lean over to make a casual remark about the fireworks, touching Theo's arm or shoulder briefly, allowing his leg to brush against Theo's for a second. No one seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, least of all Allegra, who had fastened her attention on Serafina for the moment, and the two boys exchanged a conspiratorial grin.

After the fireworks were over, Snape hastily removed his arm from Lupin's waist, and Lupin got up to fetch the birthday cake, ice cream, and cold pumpkin juice. After dessert, Dylan and Theodore began opening their presents.

Draco gave both of them a broom compass, and Serafina, as expected, gave them books: for Dylan, a biography of "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn, a former and deceased (eaten by a Chimaera) member of Dylan's favorite Quidditch team, the Caerphilly Catapults, and for Theodore, a book of Japanese legends and folktales.

"Which reminds me, Professor," Serafina said, "I should return the book you let me borrow." Before school had let out, Lupin had loaned her a book on Japanese shapeshifters.

Lupin smiled. "I know it by heart already, Sera. Please keep it." He grinned. "Consider it an early birthday present--or a late one, depending on your point of view."

"Really?" she asked, her face lighting up. "Thank you so much!"

Professor Blackmore also gave the boys books: a Potions text for Dylan, and a book on runes for Theodore. They were both books that they had previously borrowed from the library at her mansion.

"These are valuable books, Professor," a startled Dylan said. "Are you sure that you want us to keep them?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "They are not books that I am likely to use myself, and I'm sure that you'll take good care of them."

"We will!" Dylan promised. "Thank you very much."

"Thank you," Theodore echoed, looking surprised and a little awed.

Blackmore smiled at them warmly. "You may thank me by getting good grades in Potions and Ancient Runes," she said, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

Dylan and Theodore exchanged a look. Was the demonic Professor Blackmore actually joking with them? Dylan grinned at her--looking much like his father, although he didn't realize it--and Theodore smiled shyly.

Branwen continued to smile, but it was suddenly tinged with sorrow and nostalgia, and Sirius knew why. Dylan was normally a serious boy, but when he grinned mischievously like that, he looked just like Evan. Sirius had never liked Evan, but he knew that Branwen, for whatever reason, had loved him like a son, so he put a comforting arm around her.

Branwen smiled up at him, the sorrow receding from her eyes. If she had any lingering doubts about marrying a former student--and one of her most reckless, impulsive students at that--this laid them to rest. Sirius had matured a great deal; in the past he would have demanded to know how she could mourn a murdering bastard like Evan Rosier, but now he quietly offered her comfort without passing judgment. And he had made peace with Severus, reached out to his estranged cousins, and had admitted, somewhat to his surprise, that he actually liked Evan's son. "I'm very proud of you, dear," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek, and he blushed like a schoolboy. Bane croaked in his hoarse voice, sounding petulant and jealous, and Branwen burst out laughing, then scratched her sulky familiar on his head.

Theodore and Dylan continued to open their presents. Sirius gave them boxes of assorted Honeydukes sweets, Harry gave them boxes of Honeydukes fudge, and Ron had reluctantly given them Skiving Snackboxes, since his brothers had given him a family discount. He thought that he wouldn't mind seeing them make themselves sick, even though each of the candies came with an antidote. The Puking Pastilles in particular had a very nasty effect; Ron cheered up as he pictured Dylan Rosier puking all over his immaculate robes.

Snape frowned and said, "If either of you try to use those to get out of class..."

"Don't worry, sir," Dylan assured him with a smile--not looking nearly as intimidated as he should, Snape thought peevishly. Theodore shook his head vigorously, looking more properly cowed. "At least," Dylan added with that roguish grin that was so like Evan's, "not to get out of Potions class!"

Snape scowled fiercely to hide his smile. "You had better not," he said sternly. "Not unless you want to be serving detention for the entire school year."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said in a meek voice, although his eyes were still laughing, and continued opening his presents.

Ginny gave them posters of their favorite Quidditch teams, and Damien gave them a set of magic tricks and gag items from Zonko's. Blaise gave Dylan a book of coupons for sundaes at Fortescue's and Theo a set of runestones. They came in a threadbare velvet pouch and the surface of the stones had been rubbed smooth from years of use, except where the runes were carved into them. "I got these from our shop," Blaise said. "You're good with runes, and I thought maybe you could use them in Divination class."

"They're great," Theodore said, smiling at him. "Thank you."

Allegra gave Theodore a battered copy of "Quidditch Through the Ages," obviously another item from her father's shop, and Dylan a broken wand mended with Spellotape.

"Thank you," Dylan said politely, giving her his usual charming smile, while Draco asked incredulously, "You're giving him a broken wand?" Theodore glared at him, but Draco didn't notice because at the exact same moment, Serafina pinched his arm, hard. "Ow!"

"Be nice," she hissed into his ear, "or I'll hex you."

Draco rubbed his arm sullenly but obeyed, because he had seen her handiwork and knew it was a potent threat. He pasted a smile on his face and said in a falsely hearty voice, "I mean, a broken wand--that's great!" Serafina heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.

Allegra, however, was not offended. "I know it's broken," she explained, "and I know that you already have a wand, but this wand is special. People think mended wands are dangerous or useless--"

"I'll say," Ron muttered, remembering the disastrous effects his broken wand had had in second year.

"--but the thing is," Allegra continued, "you have to test them to understand how they work. They'll never be as good as new, but there's usually a pattern you can figure out. Like spells might have half their normal effect, or it might be good for casting only certain types of spells. This wand is good for casting only one spell, but I think you'll find it very useful." She hesitated, then said, "Percy told me that students aren't allowed to cast spells outside of school, so would you demonstrate, Professor Lupin?"

"I'd be happy to," Lupin replied. "What is the spell?" She came over and whispered something into his ear, and Lupin grinned. He took the wand from Dylan and said, "Orchideous!" and a bouquet of purple and white orchids emerged from the tip of the wand.

Lupin gave the wand and flowers back to Dylan, and he handed the bouquet to Hermione with a flourish. She smiled, blushing slightly, and said, "They're lovely," and Ginny giggled as Ron scowled.

Allegra grinned at Dylan mischievously. "I thought this wand might come in handy because Blaise says you're very popular with the girls--"

"Allegra!" Blaise snapped, but Dylan and Hermione just laughed.

"--and girls like flowers," she continued blithely.

"Indeed they do," Hermione laughed.

"It's a wonderful present," Dylan told Allegra. "Thank you very much."

Allegra beamed, looking very pleased with herself. "You're welcome. I haven't figured out a way to control what type of flowers come out, though. It seems to be different every time."

Lupin tested out the wand a few more times, producing bouquets of roses, lilies, violets, and daisies, which Dylan gave to Professor Blackmore, Ginny, Serafina, and Allegra respectively.

"A very handy gift indeed," Sirius laughed. "Every man should have one!"

"You certainly could have used one back when you were in Hogwarts," Branwen teased, "considering how many girlfriends you had."

"That's all in the past now, my dear!"

"It had better be," Branwen warned, and there was a certain glint to her eyes that made Damien shudder. 

"Take a braver man than me to marry her," he whispered to Draco, who nodded in agreement.

Ron looked a little stunned. "How did you figure that out about the broken wands?" he asked Allegra. "I've never heard that before, that there's a pattern to the way they work."

Allegra shrugged. "Trial and error. We have a LOT of broken wands at the shop."

Ron stared at her with a look of newfound respect. "Boy, I wish you had been around during second year!"

Allegra giggled. "Percy told me about your broken wand. Sorry I wasn't there to help you."

"Fred and George told me that you're friends with Percy," Ron said. "Just out of curiosity, what is it that you like about him?"

Allegra looked puzzled. "He's nice. Don't you think so? He is your brother, after all."

Ron first looked disbelieving, then a little ashamed of himself. "Yeah, well, I guess so. He can be a bit of a prat at times, though..."

Ginny smiled at Allegra. "We love Percy, even though we don't always get along with him. Don't you ever fight with your brother sometimes?"

"Once in awhile," Allegra admitted, "but not often. Blaise is a good brother." Blaise smiled tenderly at her and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Besides," she told Ron, "Percy likes our store and he never calls it a junk shop the way other people do. He says it contains many bargains for a customer with a discerning eye." Ron just shook his head.

Hermione gave both Theodore and Dylan Japanese language textbooks that had obviously been bought in the Muggle world. "Since you've been taking lessons from Professor Lupin, I thought you could use these," she explained.

"Yes, they'll really come in handy, thank you, Hermione," Dylan said, showing no sign of the fact that he was secretly a little disappointed with such a practical and unromantic gift. He sighed inwardly; well, he had said that he liked Hermione the way she was, and she loved books almost as much as Serafina did...then he noticed the sunlight reflect off something shiny in the box the book had come in. He reached in and pulled out a silver charm in the shape of a Japanese kanji character strung on a length of black cord. "My Japanese isn't that good yet. What does it say?"

Lupin grinned and said, "This character is 'yuu'--it means 'friend'."

Dylan slipped the necklace over his head. "Thank you, Hermione. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," she mumbled, blushing as she stared down at the table. Her face turned even more red when he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Lupin grinned from ear to ear while Theodore and Snape looked annoyed but resigned; Draco looked just plain annoyed, and Damien looked a little bemused. He shrugged, then grinned.

"I never thought that Granger was his type, but what the hell...it leaves more girls for the rest of us, right, Malfoy?" Draco scowled at him, but Damien ignored him and rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Now I have a shot at Parvati and Lavender!"

Draco groaned, "Why do you have to chase after Gryffindor girls?!"

Damien was feeling bold enough to wink at Professor Blackmore and say, "Inter-House cooperation!" Much to his relief, she laughed out loud instead of turning him into a toad. "Besides, I don't discriminate--I'll chase after a pretty girl no matter what House she's in! Parvati and Lavender just happen to be Gryffindors and the best-looking girls in the school. Although Padma in Ravenclaw is pretty hot, too; she is Parvati's twin, after all..."

Draco groaned again while Snape shook his head and muttered, "The school will never be the same again."

"That's a good thing, don't you think, Severus?" Lupin asked, slipping his arms around Snape.

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape snapped, but did not push the werewolf away from him. 

Hermione giggled, and Dylan grinned and whispered, "See what I mean?" The next present he opened was from Theodore; it was a small wooden carving of an owl. "Cool," Dylan said. "It looks like Blodwen. Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes, but Remus helped me with some of the finer details, since I'm not that good at it yet."

"Thanks, I really like it," Dylan said, then pushed a package towards him. "Here, open mine next."

Theodore tore off the wrappings, revealing a broomstick servicing kit. "Thanks, Dylan, I can really use this."  "You sure can," Dylan said with a huge grin, and Theodore gave him a puzzled look until Lupin handed him a very large, oddly shaped package that could only be one thing. Lupin grinned as widely as Dylan, and Snape actually cracked a smile (a small smile, but a smile nevertheless) as Theodore eagerly tore open the package.

"Sweet!" Damien said enviously. "A Nimbus 2001!" It was a top-of-the-line racing broom, not quite as good as Harry's Firebolt, but probably the best you could get without shelling out the exorbitant price of a Firebolt, which cost more than Damien's father earned in a year.

"Thank you, Professor, thank you, Remus!" Theodore exclaimed. "I...I don't know what to say."

"Well, we thought you needed a new broomstick," Snape said indulgently, "since it seems you will be joining the Slytherin Quidditch team this year. At least, that is what your team Captain has led me to believe."

"Um...Professor?" Draco asked hesitantly. "That means I'll still be the Captain of the team this year, right?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," Snape replied, looking a little puzzled. "Why wouldn't you be?"

"Er...no reason," Draco said, feeling relieved. "Just wanted to be sure, that's all." He had been afraid that Snape might promote one of his foster sons over him, but apparently the thought had never even crossed Snape's mind.

"And besides," Snape said to Theodore, "you need a good broomstick if Slytherin is to beat Gryffindor again this year." He would have bought a Firebolt if he'd been able to afford it, but it would have wiped out even the considerable savings he had amassed over his years of working at Hogwarts. If he'd still been the Snape heir, of course, he could have bought it without batting an eye, but then again, the Snape heir would not have been allowed to cohabit with a werewolf and foster two orphaned Death Eater offspring. Besides, a Chaser didn't really need the extra speed of the Firebolt, although it was ideal for a Seeker; the Nimbus was good enough. Although it did irritate Snape a bit that Potter had one; trust Black to show off by buying his godson a broom that cost more than it took to feed a small country for a year! Oh well, at least Theodore looked thrilled with his present.

"We'll do our best, Professor," Theodore said with a grin.

"I have something else for you," Lupin said, handing Theodore a small package. "And this is for both you and Dylan." He gave them a larger, square-shaped package.

The small package contained a penknife similar to the one Lupin used for carving, and the other contained a chess set. But not just any chess set...

"B-but this is your chess set," Theodore stammered. "The one you made with your father."

"Yes," Lupin said, smiling a little sadly. "I was never very good at chess, but I've always treasured it because it was something my father and I made together."

"But...then why are you giving it to us?" a bewildered Theodore asked. Dylan understood, though, and smiled at Lupin, looking very touched and pleased.

"Because you and Dylan are my sons now," Lupin explained gently, "and I would like you to have it."

"Oh!" Theodore exclaimed, looking stunned for a moment, then his eyes filled with tears and he hugged Lupin. "Thank you, Remus," he whispered, and Lupin hugged him back, looking a little teary-eyed himself.

"You're welcome, Theo."

Theodore let go of Lupin, turning aside for a moment to wipe his eyes on his sleeve, and Dylan stepped forward to give Lupin a hug, too. He was more composed than his foster brother, but no less moved. "Thank you, Remus," he said quietly. "I promise we'll treasure it just as much as you did."

"I know you will," Lupin said with a smile.

There was one last set of presents for Dylan: Lupin gave him a silver cloak pin shaped like a rose, and Snape gave him a set of expensive Potions equipment and an envelope. Curious, Dylan opened the envelope, which contained four photographs. Two of them looked familiar, and he thought he had seen them before in his mother's photo albums. The first showed Evan and Ariane at about age eighteen or nineteen, their arms around each other, looking young and in love. The second was of Evan, Ariane, and Lyall Wilkes all laughing and waving at the camera. 

But Dylan had never seen the other two photos before: one showed Evan grinning mischievously at the camera, with one arm flung around Ariane's shoulders and the other around Snape's; the other was of Ariane, Evan, Lyall, and Snape. In both pictures, Snape looked grumpy and a little uncomfortable. It was very odd, to see how young they all looked, only a couple of years older than Dylan was now. At least, it was odd for him to see his mother and Snape looking so young. Evan looked young in all the pictures Dylan had of him because he had died before Dylan was born. The image he had of his father would never change, would always be the handsome, charming young rogue. Dylan gently ran his fingers across the last picture, in a gesture that was almost a caress, suddenly filled with both love and sorrow.

Snape saw the expression on Dylan's face and wondered if he had made a mistake by giving him the pictures. "I was going through some of my things," he said gruffly, "and I came across these. I thought you might like to have them, since they're of your parents..."

Dylan smiled at him, and Snape felt relieved. "Thank you, Professor. I don't have many pictures of my father, so it really means a lot to me." And without really thinking about it--because he probably wouldn't have had the nerve to do so if he did--he flung his arms around Snape.

"You're...ah...welcome, Rosier," Snape said, his pale, sallow face flushing as he awkwardly patted Dylan on the back. Harry and Ron gaped at them in shock; Ginny and Hermione smiled; and the Slytherin students regarded their Head of House with varying degrees of bemusement, ranging from disbelief on Draco's part to a look of mild interest on Serafina's face, only slightly more expressive than her normal emotionless mask. Branwen and Lupin grinned hugely, while Sirius blinked in surprise, then smiled, looking amused. 

Allegra, who had met Snape only once before, said cheerfully to her brother, "I don't know why you think Professor Snape is so scary. He seems nice to me."

"Shh!" hissed Blaise, casting a nervous glance at Snape, who didn't seem to have overheard her remark.

Serafina leaned over to whisper to Allegra, "Yes, but you shouldn't say so out loud. Professor Snape will be upset if you ruin his reputation." She said this with a perfectly straight face, but Draco thought he detected a glimmer of humor in her violet eyes, although it was so brief that he wondered if he had imagined it.

"Why does he want everyone to think he's mean?" Allegra whispered back.

The Slytherins stared at each other, not quite sure how to reply to that. Damien shrugged and said, "It's a Slytherin thing."

"He was pretending to be a Death Eater, and Death Eaters aren't supposed to be nice," Serafina said. "And besides, it's easier for him to keep the students in line that way."

"Oh," Allegra said, seeming satisfied with that explanation, at least for the moment.

Everyone said their goodbyes and thank-yous, and as they left, Harry muttered, "I can't believe I saw someone hug Snape."

"Yeah, me too," Ron chimed in. "Even if Rosier is his pet."

"Remus seems to find Severus eminently huggable," Branwen said lightly.

"I'm not sure that I'd call him huggable," Sirius said with a wry smile, "but I admit that Moony seems to have mellowed Snape out a bit."

"Think Snape will be feeling 'mellow' in Potions class?" Ron asked Harry hopefully.

"I wouldn't get my hopes up," Harry replied. "I don't think his mellowness extends towards Gryffindors. Well, except for Professor Lupin."

Later that night, after the boys had gone to bed, Lupin said to Snape, "It was a nice party, wasn't it? The boys were very happy."

"Yes," Snape replied. "It was good of you to give them your chess set. I remember you showing it to me back in fifth year, and I know how much it meant to you."

Lupin smiled tenderly. "It does mean a lot to me; that's why I wanted them to have it. And by the way, Severus, it was good of you to give those photos to Dylan. I know you didn't just happen to come across them the way you implied. That's what you were doing when you went back to Hogwarts, wasn't it? You went to look for the photos because you knew how much they would mean to Dylan."

Snape looked embarrassed and said gruffly, "Actually, I went to Hogwarts to escape your birthday plans. I was thinking about what I should get Dylan for his birthday, and then I remembered I had those pictures stored in my closet. It's not as if they were doing any good gathering dust there, and they don't mean anything to me, but I thought Dylan would like them..."

"You're so sexy when you're being sentimental, Severus," Lupin said with a grin as he reached up, twined his hands in Snape's thick, black hair and pulled his face down for a kiss.

Snape wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended, but as Lupin's mouth closed over his, he decided that he could be offended later. If the werewolf was going to insist on ruining his reputation and making him over into a "softie," he had might as well reap the benefits of it along with the disadvantages. So he didn't bother to make a retort, but wrapped his arms around Lupin and returned the kiss.

*** 

The next day, Snape told Theodore, "Now that you're seventeen, you can apply for your Apparition license. But perhaps we should practice a little first." They cleared an open space in the living room, moving all the furniture back against the walls. Then with a piece of chalk, Snape drew a protective circle on the floor, one that contained a number of advanced runes that they hadn't covered in class yet. "You won't be able to Apparate beyond the confines of this circle," Snape explained. "That's also why I moved the furniture, so that you won't accidentally Apparate into a wall or an object, a common beginner's mistake."

Theodore suddenly looked a little queasy and a lot less eager to apply for his Apparition license. "Relax, Nott," Snape told him. "It's perfectly safe with the precautions we've taken. You're a good mage, and I'm sure you'll be able to master the spell with a little practice." Theodore looked pleased at the compliment, though still a little nervous. "Besides, Branwen told me that Potter and Weasley got their licenses, and if those two idiots can do it, I'm sure you won't have any problems." 

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"If Potter and Weasley can do it, so can I!" Theodore declared, suddenly looking determined. There was no way that he was going to let those two Gryffindors show him up!

"That's the spirit!" Snape said cheerfully, and Lupin shook his head, looking amused. "You know how the spell works?"

"In theory," Theodore replied.

"We'll start with a short distance," Snape said, "from one end of the room to the other; that should be simple enough." His voice took on the didactic tone he used in the classroom. "Of course, the spell becomes more difficult as the distance increases."

"Yes, sir."

"You must have your destination clearly pictured in your mind," Snape continued. "Which becomes more important when you're Apparating to a location out of sight."

"Yes, sir," Theodore repeated obediently.

"All right, then," Snape said. "Give it a try." Theodore stared at the other end of the room intently, picturing himself moving from here to there, but nothing happened; he was a little nervous, and it was difficult to concentrate with everyone watching him. "Focus, Mr. Nott," Snape said sternly. "You need to concentrate solely on the spell and shut out any outside distractions."

Theodore closed his eyes, trying to think only of Apparating, keeping the mental image of the opposite end of the room firmly fixed in his mind. Suddenly, he heard a loud cracking noise and opened his eyes to find himself on the other end of the room. Unfortunately, he had emerged above the floor--only a few inches, but it threw him off enough to stumble and fall to his hands and knees as he landed.

"You did it!" Dylan said, applauding.

"Very good for a first effort," Snape said with a small, wry smile. "But I think you need to focus a little more. Try it again."

The second time was a little easier, and Theodore Apparated back to Snape's side without incident. He Apparated back and forth a few more times until Snape was convinced that he'd gotten the hang of it.

"That looks fun," Dylan said wistfully. "I wish I was seventeen."

"Hmm," Snape said thoughtfully. "You're a bit young, but I think you're capable of handling it. Come here, and be careful not to step on the circle."

As Dylan carefully stepped over the chalk-drawn borders of the circle, Lupin said, "Um...Severus, isn't it technically illegal to be teaching him to Apparate?"

Snape added a few more runes to the circle and said, "These should ward out any prying eyes in case the Ministry should be spying on us."

"It's still illegal whether they're watching or not, Severus," Lupin pointed out.

"Yes, well, it was also illegal for the Death Eaters to torture and murder people, but that didn't stop them," Snape replied. "I'd feel safer if both of the boys knew how to Apparate. If Dylan had been able to Apparate, he might have been able to escape when Lucius kidnapped him, or when Voldemort forced him to wake the vampiric roses with his own blood."

"Voldemort is dead and the Death Eaters are defeated," Lupin reminded him.

"Yes, but..." Snape said, hesitating. He knew that Lupin was right, but the fear and caution he had lived with during all the years he had spent as a spy were not easily overcome. "Rabastan Lestrange hasn't been caught yet, and there are people who still bear grudges against the Death Eaters and those they deem Death Eater sympathizers."

Dylan looked back and forth from Lupin to Snape anxiously. He wanted to learn to Apparate, but he didn't want to start an argument between them. "It's not a big deal, Professor," he said. "I can wait till I'm seventeen."

But Lupin said, "If you really think it's that important, I won't stand in your way, Severus."

"I'm probably being a little paranoid," Snape admitted. "But still, I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"A disregard for the rules is a Slytherin trait," Lupin said with a smile. "Just make sure that we don't get in trouble with the Ministry over it."

Dylan proved to be as adept at Apparating as he was at nearly everything else he did. Theodore sighed a little, recalling Draco's complaints that Dylan was "so damn perfect," then smiled ruefully. "Just don't tell Draco that you can Apparate, or we'll never hear the end of it!"

"You can't tell anyone about this," Snape said sternly. "Because Lupin is right, it's illegal. You aren't to Apparate without my permission unless it's a life-or-death emergency, is that clear, Mr. Rosier?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said solemnly. "I understand."

Confident that they had mastered the basics, Snape allowed them to Apparate from one room to another, which they managed to do without getting stuck in a wall or a piece of furniture. "That's enough for one day," Snape said. "I'm sure you'll pass the test with flying colors, Mr. Nott, and so will Mr. Rosier when he is able to apply next year."

Theodore did indeed get his license without any problems, and while they were in London, Snape picked up a cake--an elaborate confection of strawberries and cream--to celebrate.

"I think you'll use any excuse to indulge your sweet-tooth, Severus," Lupin teased. "But seriously, we're both very proud of you, Theo." 

"Thank you, Remus," Theodore said, beaming at him, and Lupin smiled, suddenly feeling very happy. Both Theodore and Dylan had finally grown comfortable enough to call him by his first name without prefacing it with "Prof...um..." And Theodore had changed dramatically from the sullen, gloomy boy he had been in school. He was still a little shy and skittish, like a stray dog that had been kicked too many times to be sure of its welcome, but every day he was growing a little more secure, a little more content in his new home. 

"By the way, Severus," Lupin said that night over dessert, "I was talking to Branwen..."

"Oh yes, that's right," Snape said. "The wedding is coming up soon."

"We're all invited," Lupin informed the boys with a smile. "Draco and Narcissa will be there, too, and of course, Harry, which is what I wanted to talk to you about, Severus." He smiled at his lover sweetly.

"What about Potter?" Snape asked, suddenly made suspicious by the too-innocent look on Lupin's face.

"Well, of course Sirius and Branwen will be going on their honeymoon after the wedding, which means that Harry will need someone to look after him..."

"He's seventeen years old, Lupin!" Snape said sharply. "He doesn't exactly need a baby-sitter."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Would you leave any teenage boy alone in a house for two weeks without supervision? Particularly a Gryffindor? Harry's a good boy, and I'm sure he wouldn't intentionally get into trouble, but trouble does seem to have a way of finding him."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Snape muttered reluctantly. "But surely you're not suggesting that--"

"Branwen's asked us to look after Harry while they're gone," Lupin interrupted.

Snape scowled fiercely. "You've got to be kidding! Why can't he stay with the Weasleys?"

"Molly's very busy preparing for both Branwen's and Percy's weddings," Lupin said calmly. "Branwen didn't want to burden her further."

"This cottage is barely big enough for the four of us," Snape protested. "There's not enough room in the basement for a third bed." Snape sneered a little as his voice turned sarcastic. "Surely you're not proposing that the golden boy sleep on the couch."

"That was uncalled for, Severus!" Lupin snapped, and Theodore and Dylan began to look a little worried. "Not so many years ago, Harry was accustomed to sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs!" Snape looked a little shamefaced, and Lupin's expression and voice softened. "He's not James, Severus. He's never asked for any special privileges or luxuries, although I do admit that sometimes people have given them to him unasked because he is the Boy Who Lived. But that kind of attention makes him more uncomfortable than anything else. He doesn't revel in adulation as his father did at that age."

Snape sighed wearily and said apologetically, "I know, I know. But it still seems like it would be a bit cramped here..."

"That's why Branwen has asked us to come and stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry while they're gone," Lupin said brightly. 

"Absolutely not!" Snape snapped.

"Oh, come on, Sev," Lupin wheedled. "It's no different than how we spent last summer, and this is just for a couple of weeks."

Theodore looked confused. "You lived in the Black mansion with Potter last summer?"

"Yes," Snape said through gritted teeth, "as part of my duty to the Order of the Phoenix, and it's not an experience that I care to repeat."

"It wasn't that bad," Lupin protested. "At least, I didn't hear you complaining that much at the time." He licked his lips and smiled at Snape lasciviously. "In fact, I recall numerous occasions when you were downright enthusiastic about being there..."

"LUPIN!" bellowed Snape, his face turning bright red.

Lupin grinned unrepentantly. "It'll be just like old times, Sev! Ron, Ginny, and Hermione will be coming over, too."

"What?! Why do we have to watch the other three brats?!"

"Harry could use the company, and things are a bit hectic at the Weasley household. It'll mean two less children underfoot there, and I'm sure Ron and Ginny wouldn't mind a break from the wedding preparations--you know how Molly gets when she's stressed. And I promised to give Hermione Japanese lessons, but it's hard for her to visit us here, since her home isn't connected to the Floo Network, and her birthday isn't till September, so she doesn't have her Apparition license yet."

"I don't care, Lupin! The answer is 'no' and there is nothing you can say to make me change my mind!"

*** 

"Thank you for coming, Remus, Severus," Branwen said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek. "I really appreciate it. Your old rooms upstairs are still untouched, and the boys can take Fred and George's old room. I'm going to go ahead to Blackmore Manor; Sirius and Harry are already there. You can join us after you get settled in."

As they headed upstairs carrying their suitcases, Snape grumbled, "How on earth did I let the werewolf talk me into this?"

"Well, first he started making doe-eyes at you," Dylan replied helpfully. "And then he put his arms around you and started saying, 'Oh, pretty please, Sev, do it for me'--"

"That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Rosier," Snape snarled, giving him a look that made Theodore blanch.

Dylan, however, simply shrugged and said, "Sorry, Professor."

Snape growled deep in his throat and stomped up the stairs, which woke the portrait of Mrs. Black, who began shouting, "Begone from the house of my fathers!"

Dylan and Theodore jumped, but Snape just leaned over the bannister and shouted, "Oh, shut up, you old hag!" 

"Temper, temper, Severus," Lupin laughed.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin! This is all your fault, anyway!"

"Um...who is that?" Dylan wanted to know.

"Black's mother," Snape replied curtly. "As you can tell, she's even more charming than her son. I swear, one of these days, I'm going to blast that portrait into smithereens!"

"Sirius would thank you for it," Lupin said with a smile.

"I know; that's the only thing that stops me from doing it," Snape replied.

"Here's your room," Lupin said to Theodore and Dylan. "Severus and I will be right down the hall." They left the boys to get settled in, then headed to their own room--well, two adjoining rooms, actually, although there was no longer any need to keep up the pretense that they were living in separate rooms. In the middle of unpacking, Lupin suddenly slipped his arms around Snape's waist.

"Thank you for indulging me, Severus," Lupin said tenderly. "I know that you and Harry don't really get along, but it means a lot to me."

"Hmmph," Snape snorted, trying to maintain his grumpy demeanor. "It's not like you gave me much choice." But Lupin just smiled, and it was difficult to stay mad at him when he looked so beautiful. He was wearing forest-green dress robes, and his long hair was tied back in a neat tail with a length of matching green velvet ribbon; Snape felt a sudden urge to pull that ribbon free and let Lupin's hair fall down loose around around his shoulders, and then run his fingers through that silky hair.

"I promise I'll make it up to you, Sev," Lupin said with a mischievous grin, "with lots of wild, passionate sex."

"I'll hold you to that, Remy," Snape said, all his irritation suddenly gone, and he pulled Lupin close and kissed him. He had just reached up to grasp the end of the ribbon when there was a knock at the door.

Snape cursed, and Lupin laughed. He kissed the tip of Snape's nose, whispered, "We'll continue this later," then stepped back and called out, "Come in!"

Dylan and Theodore walked in; they were also wearing dress robes for the wedding: Dylan's were silver-gray and Theodore's were the dark green, nearly black robes he had worn to the Yule Ball. Snape, of course, was wearing black as always. "We're all unpacked," Dylan said cheerfully.

"That was quick," Snape muttered, sounding a bit disgruntled.

"We're not interrupting anything are we?" Dylan asked innocently.

"Of course not!" Snape snapped, and Lupin winked at the boys behind his back. "Let's go!"

Snape and Lupin Apparated the boys over to Blackmore Manor. Dylan wasn't legally allowed to Apparate yet, of course, and Snape didn't want Theodore to risk Apparating that far to a location he wasn't familiar with. And Lupin didn't want to use the Floo Network because "we don't want to get ashes on our wedding finery, now do we?"

They emerged in the living room of Blackmore Manor; Sirius and Harry were there to greet them.

"Hey Moony, looking pretty stylish!" Sirius said with a grin.

Lupin laughed and gave Sirius a hug. "Of course! I am the best man, after all; I can't show up in rags!" He pulled back a little to give his friend a closer look. "You're looking pretty good, yourself, Padfoot!" And indeed, Sirius looked resplendent in his black velvet robes. Harry was dressed in green robes similar to Lupin's.

Sirius tugged a little at the high collar of his robe. "Thanks. I wish this thing was a bit more comfortable, though."

"You don't fool me; I bet you were preening all morning in front of the mirror, you peacock!" Lupin teased. "But seriously, how are you doing, Padfoot? Any last minute jitters?"

"Not really," Sirius said, still grinning. "The only thing I'm nervous about is that the bride might come to her senses and change her mind!"

"You won't get out of this that easily!" Lupin joked. "Once Branwen makes up her mind about something, she rarely changes it. And how are you holding up, Harry?"

"Okay," Harry replied. "But I'm glad that Mrs. Weasley and Professor Blackmore won't be fighting about wedding plans anymore!" Lupin and Sirius both laughed, and even Snape smiled a little. "Um...thanks for coming to stay with me while Sirius is gone, Professor," Harry said to Lupin, but his eyes looked nervous as they flicked over in Snape's direction for a moment.

"It's my pleasure, Harry," Lupin said cheerfully. "It'll be fun; just like old times."

"Now where have I heard that before?" Snape muttered under his breath sourly.

"Is there anything we can do to help, Sirius?" Lupin asked.

"Well, let's see...Hob has the food under control," Sirius replied. "He's been cooking up a storm this whole week and keeping it fresh with a preserving spell. Albus offered to have some of the Hogwarts house-elves help out, but Hob seemed to regard it as an insult; he said he was more than capable of handling it by himself." Sirius grinned. "He's been trying to get me married off ever since he started working for me, so he's just thrilled about the wedding."

Lupin smiled. "A hob isn't really happy unless it has a family to look after, and suddenly he's acquired a ready-made family: you, Branwen, and Harry."

Sirius nodded, putting an arm around his godson, who smiled happily, with a look of awe on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe his good fortune. Lupin recognized that expression, because he frequently saw it on Theodore's face; it made him feel sad, tender, and protective all at once. He wondered if Harry would ever realize how much he had in common with the Slytherins--and vice versa, of course. Well, they were slowly getting to know each other, if somewhat grudgingly, at his own and Branwen's urging, and perhaps the two weeks they were going to spend together would help them all become friends with each other. Well, Gryffindors and Slytherins tended to be incredibly stubborn, but one could always hope...

"Tonks is upstairs helping Branwen get dressed," Sirius continued. "And we've already set up the chairs and tables outside. Molly should be here any minute with the decorations; she might need some help--"

As if on cue, Molly burst into the room, looking very irate. She was followed by Arthur, Ron, Ginny, the twins, and Hermione, all loaded down with bags and baskets filled with greenery, white roses, and green ribbons and streamers. "BRANWEN BLACKMORE!" she shouted.

"Now, now, my dear," Arthur said soothingly. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation..."

"What's wrong, Molly?" Lupin asked.

Molly ignored him and walked up to Sirius; Harry found himself taking a step back. "Did you know about this, Sirius?!"

"Know about what?" a puzzled and nervous Sirius asked.

Just then, Branwen entered the room, followed by Tonks. "What's all the fuss about?" she asked.

Molly's look of anger changed to shock as she saw what Branwen was wearing: a long-sleeved, floor-length gown of black lace with a bit of gold trim around the bodice, cuffs, and hem. "Don't tell me that's your wedding gown!" she exclaimed.

"It's a family heirloom," Branwen said serenely. "Generations of Blackmore women have worn it to their weddings."

"You look like you're going to a funeral, not a wedding!"

Branwen shrugged. "Well, we do have a reputation as Dark Wizards to uphold, after all..."

Sirius stared at her admiringly. "It's a bit...different...but very striking. You look beautiful, Branwen."

"You look quite handsome yourself, my dear," she replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Sirius!" Tonks protested. "You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding!" Then she grinned and said, "Oh well...it's not exactly a conventional wedding, is it?"

Molly looked at Tonks and did a double-take. "Tonks!"

"What?"

"Your hair!"

Tonks was wearing green, since that was the color scheme that had been agreed upon, and Branwen had asked her to be a bridesmaid. But her robes weren't the only thing that was green: "Do you like it?" Tonks asked cheerfully, pointing to her spiky green hair. "I did it special for the wedding!" Molly sighed and shook her head. "Well, you did suggest that I not have violet hair for the ceremony," Tonks reminded her.

"I didn't mean that you should change it to green!" retorted Molly. "Oh, never mind that now!" She turned back to Branwen. "If you didn't want me to do the decorations, you should have just said so! The children and I worked very hard to get everything ready, and for you to just change your mind at the last minute is--"

"What are you talking about?" Branwen interrupted, and Bane cawed in a threatening tone.

"Are you saying that you don't know anything about those flowers outside?" Molly asked suspiciously.

"What flowers?" Branwen asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

Now Molly looked confused. "But if you didn't...then who did...?"

"Why don't you come outside and take a look?" Hermione suggested practically.

So they all trooped outside and gasped in shock at what they saw. There were flowers everywhere: on the tables, woven into the arched trellis beneath which Sirius and Branwen were to say their vows, and even scattered in a random yet artful manner all over the ground. But that was not what had made them gasp; the flowers were all black, orchids and roses, except for a few white lilies scattered here and there, as if for variety. The air was filled with a sweet, heady, almost intoxicating perfume.

Snape bent down to examine the flowers more closely. The black flowers had an iridescent sheen to them, as if black opals had somehow been transformed into velvety petals, and the white lilies were not simply white, but were translucently pale and faintly glowing; if the black flowers resembled opals, the lilies were more like moonstones.

"They're beautiful," Hermione said. "I've never seen flowers like these before."

"These aren't from you, are they, Dylan?" Sirius asked. "I've never heard of black flowers growing anywhere but on the Rosier estate."

"No, sir," Dylan replied. "I haven't been to the estate since before my mother's funeral; you can ask Professor Snape. And besides, the only flowers on the estate are roses."

"These aren't from the Rosier estate," Snape declared. "Even the roses are slightly different; the roses from the estate don't have the iridescence that these do. And there are no orchids or lilies on the estate."

"But then where did they come from?" Molly asked.

Branwen's eyes filled with tears and she smiled as she scooped up a bouquet and lifted it to her face, breathing in the sweet scent. "I remember seeing flowers like these before in my grandfather's garden," she said softly.

Molly looked puzzled, then turned pale as Sirius said, "Grandfather...oh! You mean _that_ grandfather!" Sirius suddenly turned pale as well, and Snape's eyes narrowed as Lupin's widened in awe.

"Thank you, Grandfather," Branwen whispered, still looking down at the flowers, and Bane cawed softly, rubbing his head against her cheek.

The children had no idea what was going on, and none of the adults seemed inclined to enlighten them. "These flowers are from her grandfather?" Harry asked. "I thought Professor Blackmore said that her family were all dead."

"She is the last of the Blackmore line, but she has some living relatives on her mother's side," Dylan said thoughtfully. "But I've never heard of the Byrnes growing flowers like these. Of course, we didn't have much contact with the other pureblood families out on Uncle Math's estate--"

"I don't think she's talking about her maternal grandfather," Theodore hissed, casting a nervous glance at the adults, who were still ignoring them. "Nor her paternal grandfather. I think she's talking about her great-great-great-to-the-umpteenth-power-grandfather."

"How can a dead person send her flowers?" Harry asked incredulously.

"How thick can you be, Potter?" Theodore retorted in a hushed voice. "You know about her family's reputation, and you saw the portrait in the library! The one of her ancestor Lord Raven, whose real name was Araqiel--which, by the way, just happens to be the name of a powerful Demon Lord."

"Not this again!" Harry protested. "Draco tried to convince me that she's a demon, too; said something about Bane having a Dark aura. But she can't be; that's ridiculous! Why would a demon fight against the Death Eaters?"

"Because they killed her parents," Theodore replied. "And besides, her demon blood would have been watered down over the centuries through intermarriage with humans."

"Assuming that her ancestor Lord Raven really was a demon," Dylan added.

"I still think you're all nuts," Harry said, but he sounded a little uncertain, and Ron had turned white with fear.

Ginny looked skeptical. "I know she's scary, but that doesn't make her a demon. Everyone in the wizarding world was terrified of You-Know-Who, and he wasn't a demon. A powerful, evil Dark Wizard, but not a demon."

"Flowers like that don't grow anywhere in the wizarding world, or the Muggle world for that matter!" Theodore insisted. "They're not normal!"

"I've seen plenty of things that aren't normal since I first came to Hogwarts," Hermione said reasonably. "Giants, a Hippogriff, a Basilisk..."

"That's because you're a Mud--" Theodore stopped himself just in time as Dylan glared at him. "Ahem. Because you're Muggle-born. Giants and Hippogriffs, and even Basilisks, are not unheard of in the wizarding world."

"But the Rosier estate has black roses," Hermione pointed out. "Sirius and Professor Snape just said so. I know black flowers aren't normally found in nature, but surely it would be easy to change the color of a flower with magic."

"Yes, the Rosier estate has black roses," Theodore conceded, "but there are rumors about Dylan's family, too, you know. People claim that the ancestors of the Rosier clan had dealings with demons, and that the roses were a gift from one of those demons."

"People in the wizarding world sure like to gossip a lot," Hermione said dryly. "You can't believe every rumor you hear. Look at all the nasty things Rita Skeeter used to print in the Daily Prophet about Harry; none of them were true, but a lot of people believed them."

"And it's not that easy to change the color of a flower," Theodore continued, although Hermione's words made him wonder for a moment why Skeeter had suddenly stopped printing those lies. But he shrugged it off, still preoccupied with the argument over the possible demonic origins of both the flowers and Professor Blackmore. "I mean, it's easy enough to change the color on the surface with an illusion. You can even change the color permanently, although that's harder. But they don't breed true; you could enchant a garden full of red roses and make them black, but the next generation of flowers would be normal red roses. The other pureblood families admired the Rosiers' black roses because they were so rare; no one's ever been able to duplicate them successfully. Ask Professor Sprout if you don't believe me."

"Hmm," Hermione said thoughtfully, a little annoyed at being presented with a piece of knowledge that she hadn't been aware of, but also eager to learn more about it. "That's interesting", she said. "So magic can't alter the flowers at the genetic level."

"Not reliably," Theodore replied. "People have tried, but the results usually turn out a little wonky. The experiments with animals have turned out even worse."

Hermione looked outraged for a moment at the thought of someone "experimenting" on a helpless animal, but then she smiled and said, "You know a lot about Herbology, Theodore."

"Uh...not really," Theodore said, looking a little startled and embarrassed at being complimented by the Gryffindor girl. "My mother used to gossip a lot with the other Death Eater wives. One of the things they used to gossip about was the black roses. It annoyed Narcissa a little that she couldn't obtain any for the Malfoy estate."

"Mrs. Malfoy doesn't look like the type to be interested in gardening," Ron said dubiously.

"It's a status thing, you dolt!" Theodore said rolling his eyes.

"Now see here, Nott--" Ron said hotly.

"Take it easy, Ron," Hermione said in a placating tone. "I think he means that Mrs. Malfoy didn't want them because she was interested in gardening; she wanted them because they were something rare and valuable. And it probably bothered her that she couldn't get them, even though the Malfoys are--or were--one of the most powerful families in the wizarding world." Theodore nodded, and she gave him a reproving look. "But you don't have to be rude about it."

Dylan elbowed him in the side, and Theodore grudgingly said, "Sorry."

Harry was surprised to hear even that much of an apology from the Slytherin boy, although Ron didn't seem to appreciate it. "Whatever," Ron said with a shrug.

"Ron isn't a dolt," Ginny said calmly. "Well, at least not most of the time..."

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly.

"He just doesn't think the same way you do," Ginny continued. "Our family doesn't play politics."

"Yet your father somehow wound up becoming the Minister of Magic," Theodore said.

Ginny grinned. "No one was more surprised than Dad!"

"Maybe it's because he didn't play politics that he became Minister," Dylan reasoned. "Everyone in the Ministry must have been pushing his or her own pet candidate, and then Dumbledore brings in a hero of the war, who isn't allied or beholden to anyone. It would be a good compromise, if you couldn't get your own candidate elected. He might not favor you in particular, but he wouldn't favor your rivals, either."

Harry was both impressed and a little taken aback by what seemed to him to be a rather convoluted line of reasoning. "Do you Slytherins really spend all your time thinking about status and how to get ahead or keep other people from getting ahead?"

"You won't survive in Slytherin House if you aren't constantly aware of what your allies and enemies are doing," Dylan explained matter-of-factly. "Especially when an ally can become an enemy when you aren't looking."

"That sounds a little scary," Hermione said gravely. "Not to mention exhausting--to always have to be looking over your shoulder, I mean."

"It's been better since the Dark Lord was defeated," Dylan said with a smile. "But I don't think we'll ever be as...ah...straightforward as you Gryffindors."

"Well, it would be boring if everyone was the same, wouldn't it?" Hermione laughed.

Meanwhile, Molly said nervously, "Is it safe to leave the flowers lying about like this?"

"They're just flowers, Molly," Branwen said patiently. "They're not going to come to life and start attacking the guests."

Snape picked up an orchid and gave it a speculative look. "I wonder if they have any unusual properties that might be useful in a potion?" 

"The lilies can be used to brew a potion similar to the Draught of Living Death," Branwen replied. "The roses and the orchids have narcotic properties, when properly distilled." She smiled a little. "They can be used in aphrodisiacs, or so I was told."

"Hmm," Snape said thoughtfully.

"I don't think we need any help in that department, Branwen," Lupin laughed, laying his head on Snape's shoulder.

"Oh, cut that out, Lupin!" Snape snapped. Then he muttered under his breath, "If you're like this now, I'd hate to see what you'd be like under the influence of an aphrodisiac. I'd probably die of exhaustion!"

"I don't think you should be experimenting with these flowers, Severus!" Molly said, sounding alarmed.

"When else will I get to experiment with..." Snape hesitated, looking over at the children, who seemed to be getting into a heated debate about something. "...Er, with such unusual plants."

"You may take as many samples as you like after the wedding is over," Branwen told him, much to Molly's displeasure.

"What about my decorations?" Molly asked, sounding almost sulky.

"I'm sorry, Molly," Branwen said with a smile. "I honestly didn't expect to get such a gift from my...grandfather. Perhaps we can combine them somehow?"

Molly grumbled a little under her breath, but the simple white and green decorations didn't clash with the black flowers, and she managed to work them all together into pleasing arrangements with some help from the children. "I still think it looks more like a funeral than a wedding," she complained.

"Well, the Blackmores have often been accused of being Dark Wizards," Lupin laughed. "And it is appropriate, in a way: black flowers for a union between the Black and Blackmore families!"

Sirius pulled Branwen to one side and whispered, "I thought demons couldn't cross over into our world without an invitation."

"Araqiel--or any other demon--cannot cross over into this world without being Summoned," Branwen replied, just as quietly. "But he is a Demon Prince, and his powers are great. If he expends enough energy, he can send messages, or even physical items across the veil that separates our two worlds. Do you not recall how I told you that he sent nightmares to the Death Eater who murdered my parents, and drove him insane, or how he sent Bane to become my familiar after my parents died?"

Sirius stared at the black flowers and said in a shaky voice, "Quite an impressive wedding gift!" Suddenly he remembered what Snape had told him just after he'd announced their engagement: "Don't forget that she has a vengeful Demon Prince for a grandfather who will take it most amiss if you make his favorite little granddaughter cry." Sirius looked around nervously and said, "I hope this means that your grandpa approves of our marriage." He slipped his arms around Branwen and said, "Tell him I'm taking good care of his granddaughter, okay?" Branwen just laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm serious, Branwen!"

Fortunately, the rest of the day went off without a hitch. The guests began arriving; there was quite a large crowd: Branwen's fellow teachers at Hogwarts, Molly's older sons Charlie, Bill, and Percy (the latter two brought Fleur and Penny as their dates), Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, some old Gryffindor classmates of Sirius's, and all the members of the Order of the Phoenix. 

"You should keep an eye on Mundungus Fletcher, Black," Snape muttered to Sirius. "You don't want him running off with the silverware."

"I'm not worried about him," Sirius said cheerfully. "If he's stupid enough to risk stealing from a family of demons and Dark Wizards, then on his own head be it. Branwen tells me that her ancestors were quite adept with curses, and that misfortune tends to befall anyone who takes something from Blackmore Manor that doesn't belong to him."

"In that case," Snape said with a evil grin, "perhaps I'll encourage him to steal the silverware!"

Lupin chuckled to himself softly, enjoying the sight of his lover and his best friend conversing with each other in an almost friendly manner after years of being mortal enemies.

Mad-Eye Moody's magical blue eye began spinning when it caught sight of the black flowers. "This place reeks of Dark Magic," he growled. "I don't know why they had to have the wedding at the Blackmore estate."

"Calm down, Alastor," Lupin said in a soothing tone. "It's just for one afternoon, and you know that Branwen is no Dark Wizard, despite her heritage."

Moody grunted irritably. "Where did these flowers come from?" he asked suspiciously. "They have a very strange aura about them."

"Er...a gift from a family member," Lupin said evasively. "Perhaps it's better if we don't go into more detail than that."

Moody heaved a sigh, looking even more annoyed. "I wouldn't do this for anyone but Branwen," he grumbled.

"You're a good friend, Alastor," Lupin said placatingly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Just tell young Black that he'd better take good care of her, or he'll answer to me," Moody growled. Lupin just grinned and didn't bother reminding him that Branwen was more than capable of keeping Sirius in line by herself.

Branwen's aunt, uncle, and cousins attended the wedding, somewhat to Sirius's surprise. He knew that she still had some living relatives on her mother's side, but this was the first time that he had met them. 

"Aunt Emer!" Branwen cried out when she saw them.

"Oh, my little Branwen, it's so good to see you," said a woman who looked much like the portrait of Fiona Blackmore in the library, although of course she was much older and her blonde hair was turning to gray. Sirius repressed a smile at hearing someone refer to the formidable Professor Blackmore as "little Branwen". Emer embraced her niece and held her tightly, tears running down her face. "For fifteen years we thought you were dead!"

"I'm so sorry that I couldn't send you word sooner, but..."

"I understand," Emer said, wiping away her tears. "It was some sort of Order business, wasn't it? You couldn't let the Death Eaters know that you were still alive."

"Something like that," Branwen said, then changed the subject. "This is my fiance, Sirius."

"My, what a handsome young man!" Emer said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"I like her already," Sirius said to Branwen with a grin. He was introduced to Branwen's uncle, Colm, who seemed to be a quiet, good-natured man, and to Branwen's assorted cousins, some of whom she had not met before, since they had been born while she was in exile.

"And this is my granddaughter Slaine," Emer finished, introducing the last cousin, a dark-haired young girl who stared at Branwen with wide eyes filled with awe and a little apprehension. "She'll be entering Hogwarts in the fall."

"I look forward to seeing you there," Branwen said with a smile, and the girl ducked behind her grandmother.

"She's a little shy," Emer said apologetically.

"It's all right," Branwen said, then after a brief pause said, "I see that Grandfather and Grandmother decided not to come."

Emer sighed, "I tried to convince them, but you know stubborn they are. They still--"

"Blame Father for Mother's death," Branwen finished.

She sounded more resigned than sad, but it still made Sirius angry. "Why does everyone blame your dad for that when he was killed, too? And besides, none of that is your fault!"

"Never mind, Siri," Branwen said, kissing him on the cheek. "Family members don't always get along, as you well know." She smiled sincerely at her aunt, uncle, and cousins. "I'm just glad that you decided to come."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, my dear!" Emer said, embracing her again. "Oh, your mother would be so proud if she could see you today!"

Branwen and Sirius had decided on a civil ceremony, since neither of them was particularly religious; the Minister of Magic himself conducted the ceremony, grinning from ear to ear. Molly was the maid of honor, and Tonks and Narcissa were bridesmaids, while Lupin was Sirius's best man, and Harry and Draco were groomsmen. The boys didn't look thrilled to be in each other's company, but they carried out their duties without arguing or making a fuss--Harry didn't want to ruin his godfather's wedding, and neither of them were stupid enough to risk angering Professor Blackmore. 

Dumbledore gave the bride away in place of her late father, and she looked beautiful in her antique gown and veil of black lace. Molly was still a little aggrieved by the sight of the black gown, but her expression softened a little when she saw the look on Sirius's face as his bride walked towards him: his face was filled with joy and awe, and it was clear that no one else in the world existed for him at that moment. Branwen recited her vows in a steady voice, while Sirius's voice trembled a little when it was his turn. They slipped their rings onto each other's fingers, Arthur beamed at them as he said, "You may kiss the bride," and Sirius gently lifted the veil back from her face and kissed his bride as the assembled crowd burst into cheers and applause. Lupin brushed a few tears from his eyes, and he wasn't the only one. 

Molly was openly weeping, saying to a concerned Tonks, "It's all right, dear, I always cry at weddings," and Dumbledore removed his glasses as Professor McGonagall handed him a handkerchief.

"Thank you, Minerva," he said, dabbing at his eyes with it. "It's so nice to see two of our students finding happiness together, isn't it?"

"More than two, I think," McGonagall replied with amusement, glancing at Lupin and Snape. "You could have told me about Remus and Severus earlier, Albus."

"Ah, but would you have believed me if you hadn't seen it with your own eyes?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling with merriment once more.

"Probably not," she admitted. "And you're right, it is nice to attend such a joyous occasion after the many losses we have suffered."

After the ceremony, the festivities began. There was a bountiful feast prepared by Hob, with champagne for the adults and sparkling cider for the children. And Molly had baked a magnificent four-tiered wedding cake, topped off not with bride and groom dolls, but with a spun-sugar white dove and black raven. Branwen burst out laughing when she saw it, and Bane cawed appreciatively.

"Which one is supposed to be you and which is me?" Sirius asked, grinning. "Am I the delicate little white dove?"

"They should probably both be black," Branwen laughed, "considering that you're a Black and I'm a Blackmore." She took out her wand and the white dove was soon black to match its mate.

Molly shook her head and sighed, "Ah well, you can't change a tiger's stripes, I suppose. Or in this case, the color of a raven's feathers."

"She's a bit...er...eccentric," Arthur said, slipping an arm around his wife. "But she has a good heart, and she cares about her students."

"So now that the Professor is married," Ron mused out loud, "would that make her a Black-Blackmore?"

"If you'd studied wizarding genealogy," Draco said in a superior tone, "you would know that the Blackmore women never take their husbands' names. The title is passed down matrilineally, from mother to daughter."

Ron was about to take offense, but was somewhat pacified when he saw Narcissa give her son a reproving look. "I bet Mrs. Black won't like that," he said with a grin, thinking of the bad-tempered portrait in Sirius's house.

"She'll be livid," agreed Harry with a grin.

"I don't see that it makes much difference," Hermione said. "I mean, 'Black' is already part of Professor Blackmore's name, after all."

"I don't think Mrs. Black will see it quite that way," Harry said.

Sirius and Branwen cut the cake together, and he hesitated slightly as he lifted the piece up to her lips. "If you smash that in my face, you'll be sleeping alone tonight," she warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear," Sirius assured her; he hadn't seriously been considering it, not wanting to risk spending his wedding night as a toad. He gave her an innocent smile and fed her the cake, polite as you please.

After the meal, there was dancing. Branwen danced first with her new husband, then with her uncle, Dumbledore, Moody, Arthur, Lupin, Hagrid, Snape, and just about every other male guest there--or so it seemed to Sirius.

"When do I get to dance with my bride again?" Sirius complained as he danced with Narcissa.

"Probably not till the very end of the party, cousin dear," Narcissa laughed. "It's a traditional game of sorts, to try and keep the bride and groom apart."

"Seems like a stupid tradition," he grumbled.

"I think it's intended to help build up...ah...anticipation for the wedding night," Narcissa said slyly.

Sirius blushed. "Are you really my prim and proper cousin Narcissa, or are you an impostor in disguise?" Maybe Tonks was playing a joke on him, but no, there she was dancing with Kingsley.

Narcissa laughed girlishly, looking more like the student she had been at Hogwarts than  
the mother of a teenage boy. "Just because I know how to behave properly in society doesn't make me a prig, Sirius. No Slytherin could ever be considered prim, I assure you."

"I suppose not," Sirius agreed with a laugh.

Hagrid danced just once with Branwen, careful to hold her at a proper and respectful distance, mindful of Bane's suspicious stare, and perhaps also mindful of the way his date, Madame Maxime, was watching him.

Snape danced with her next. "Are you happy, Branwen?" he asked.

"Very," she replied with a smile. "And you?"

"You know I am," he said gruffly. "Despite the fact that the werewolf takes a distinct pleasure in embarrassing me in public whenever he can. And by the way, thanks ever so much for suggesting to Lupin that we baby-sit Potter while you're gone."

"You're welcome, Severus," Branwen replied sweetly.

"I still say you could have sent him to the Weasleys," Snape grumbled.

"I could have," Branwen admitted, "but I want the Gryffindors and Slytherins to learn how to get along with each other."

Snape's black eyes filled with comprehension. "So it's all part of your plot to foster cooperation between the Houses! I should have guessed."

"Yes, that was the main reason, but Molly really is busy with Percy's wedding, and besides, I think Harry would enjoy spending some time with Remus, and vice versa." Branwen gave her former student a stern look. "I know you still hold a grudge against James and that you don't like Harry, but Remus still cares about them, you know."

"I know, I know," Snape muttered. "I won't try to force him to choose between his friends and me again. I did let him invite Potter to Dylan's and Theodore's birthday party, didn't I? Besides, you'd think you could stop playing teacher and lecturing me on your wedding day at least."

"But this is my last chance to do so for two weeks," Branwen laughed, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hmmph," Snape snorted.

Meanwhile, Harry danced with Ginny, and Dylan danced with Hermione. Ron watched, feeling a little left out until Fleur asked him to dance while Bill was dancing with his mother, and cheered up slightly. Draco danced with his mother several times, although he did take one turn with Tonks, and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Being a dutiful nephew, Dylan reluctantly left Hermione's side to dance with his Aunt Goewin. While he was dancing with her, he watched Weasley go up and ask Hermione to dance, and he frowned a little. His aunt smiled at him and said, "Don't worry, it's clear that your young lady has eyes only for you. But her friends are important to her, too, and you'll have to accept that if you don't want to drive her away."

"I know," Dylan sighed. "I'm trying. I guess we'll all be learning to get along with each other, since we'll be living in the same house for two weeks." He was pleased to be able to spend time with Hermione, but he wasn't sure what it would be like sharing such close quarters with the two Gryffindor boys.

"Everything will work out," Goewin assured him. After the song ended, she went to dance with Sirius, and Hermione was still dancing with Weasley. He saw Professor Blackmore standing alone and unpartnered for the first time since the dancing had begun, and he hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and walked up to her.

He bowed to her and said, "May I have the honor of a dance, Professor?"

She raised her eyebrows, then laughed and said, "Like father, like son, I see! Of course, Dylan, I would be delighted." Dylan took pleasure in the looks of shock on Potter's and Weasley's faces as he waltzed with the demonic Professor Blackmore. "You are much more like your mother in demeanor," she told him, "but every now and then I see a bit of Evan in you." 

"Most people would see that as a bad thing," Dylan said.

"That's not the way I meant it," Branwen replied. "Evan had his good points, too. For a time I feared that you might repeat your father's mistakes, but I'm glad to say that you proved me wrong."

"That's thanks to Professor Snape," Dylan said solemnly.

"I know," Branwen said softly. "You're one of the few people other than Remus to have enough insight to see below the surface, to the man Severus really is."

Dylan wasn't sure how to reply to that. "He's...been good to me," Dylan finally said. "So has Professor Lupin." 

They danced in silence for the rest of the song, then Branwen said, "I'm glad that you're such a serious and studious boy, but remember, there's nothing wrong with a little irreverence." She kissed him on the cheek, then added with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes, "But just a little, mind you, or you'll be scrubbing bedpans like your father did!"

"My lady," Dylan said with fervent sincerity despite the charming grin he gave her, "I would never want to do anything to anger you!" He bowed to her again and lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips in a courtly manner.

Branwen laughed and curtsied to him. "That's just the right amount of irreverence, Mr. Rosier!"

"Is your nephew flirting with my wife?" Sirius indignantly asked Goewin.

"Surely you're not jealous of a sixteen-year old boy," she teased.

"Maybe just a little," Sirius said, only half-jokingly, "when he has the charm and silver tongue of his father!" Then he determinedly walked over to claim a dance with his bride, tradition be damned. 

Dylan graciously ceded the Professor to him, then went to the table where his great-uncle was sitting, holding baby Ariana on his lap. "Here, Uncle Math, let me watch Ari so you can dance with Aunt Goewin."

"Thank you, Dylan," Math said, and got up to join his wife. Theo, Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny all came over to Dylan's table.

"You like to live dangerously, I see," Theodore said dryly. "Trying to uphold your dad's reputation?"

"I think you're nuts!" Ron said, looking a little awed. "I can't believe you had the nerve to ask her to dance! Weren't you afraid she'd turn you into a toad?"

"Oh, don't be silly!" Hermione said. "She wouldn't turn someone into a toad over that!"

"I was more afraid that Sirius might turn you into a toad," Harry said with a grin. "Did you see the look on his face?"

"It's not really a good idea to make a powerful wizard jealous," Theodore cautioned. "Even if he is a Gryffindor, the Blacks have a long history as Dark Wizards."

Dylan laughed. "I remember that Sirius told me he was jealous of my dad for asking Professor Blackmore to dance at the Yule Ball back when they were students at Hogwarts. He claimed it was just because the entire school was so impressed with Dad's audacity, and it didn't have anything to do with Professor Blackmore herself. He swore that he could never think of her romantically, that she was just too scary, but now I think maybe he was protesting a little too much."

"You think he liked her even back then?" Harry asked, sounding stunned. "But he and my dad didn't like her because she gave them detention a lot and they thought she favored the Slytherins. He says they argued a lot when they were Aurors, and they used to fight all the time when they were both living at Grimmauld Place while they were still in hiding. I was shocked when they decided to get married!"

Dylan shook his head, looking amused. "Don't you know that when two people fight a lot it can be a sign of romantic tension, Potter? Look at Snape and Lupin; everyone thought they hated each other. My mother and father thought they hated each other, too, when Professor Blackmore forced them to work on that Summoning project together. My mother said that the first time they kissed, they were in the middle of arguing about their project. She used to say that sometimes the heat of anger can disguise the heat of passion."

Harry's face turned bright red; Dylan's words were remarkably similar to Sirius's comments about arguments adding spice to a relationship, and what Blackmore had said about anger sometimes turning into passion. How come Dylan had so much more experience about these things when he was a year younger than Harry? Well, the Slytherin boy did have a reputation as a ladies' man, or at least, all the girls seemed to fawn over him.

Ron also looked flustered. "You talked about stuff like that with your _mum_?!" he asked incredulously. 

"Sure," Dylan replied carelessly, laughing at the expression on Weasley's face. Well, he couldn't really picture Mrs. Weasley discussing love and passion with her children! "She talked a lot about how she and my dad met. I never knew my father, so I loved hearing those stories about him."

He looked a little wistful then, and Hermione reached out and held his hand. Ron sighed inwardly; he did feel a little sorry for Rosier, who was now an orphan, but there was no shortage of girls willing to comfort him. Ron had enjoyed dancing with Hermione and Fleur, but it wasn't as fun as it could have been, since neither girl was interested in him. He thought he had come to terms with the fact that Hermione only liked him as a friend, but it was one thing to accept it when she wasn't dating anyone else, and another thing entirely when he had to watch her dance and hold hands with Rosier. And now he'd have to watch them moon over each other for the next two weeks. Ron sighed again.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ginny cooed and fussed over little Ariana, more than happy to help Dylan baby-sit while her parents danced. In fact, when Math and Goewin returned, the girls cheerfully told them to "go dance and enjoy the party! We'll watch Ariana for you. She's so adorable!"

"That's very kind of you," Goewin said with a smile. "Ari's a good baby, but it's nice to have a break once in awhile."

"We'll baby-sit for you anytime!" Ginny declared.

"I'll remember that," Goewin laughed, and she and her husband went off to dance some more.

"What makes girls go so gaga over babies and puppies?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Beats me. I can't figure women out. Isn't it obvious, from the way I botched things with Cho?"

"Well, you've still done better than me," Ron pointed out gloomily. "I've never even had a girlfriend."

"Well, that girl Luna likes you..."

Ron made a face. "Oh, that's very comforting!"

Harry watched Dylan laugh with Ginny and Hermione as he bounced his baby cousin on his knee. "Maybe we should ask Rosier for pointers."

"Ask a younger student, and a Slytherin at that, for advice with women?" Ron asked indignantly.

Harry shrugged. "Well, he's obviously a lot more successful with women than we are."

Ron just scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. What was galling was that the idea was almost tempting. He looked over and saw Theodore Nott leaning back in his chair watching all of them with a slightly distasteful but oddly detached look on his face, as if none of this particularly concerned or interested him.

"Hey, Nott," Ron said hesitantly.

"What?" Theodore asked warily.

"Don't you ever get tired of being in Rosier's shadow? Of having to compete with him for all the girls?"

To Ron's confusion, Nott suddenly smiled, looking very amused, and said, "Not really. I'm used to playing second fiddle to Draco, anyway." He smirked and added, "Besides, it doesn't look like Dylan's going to be competing with anyone much longer, now does it? Except perhaps you..."

Ron clenched his fists, and Harry quickly patted him on the shoulder and said, "Take it easy, Ron, don't let him get to you. Come on, don't start a scene at Professor Blackmore's wedding!"

It was more the thought of an irate Blackmore than Harry's soothing tone of voice that caused Ron to get his temper under control. He forced himself to unclench his hands and muttered, "That's what I get for trying to be chummy with a Slytherin."

"We'll have to learn to get along with them if Hermione is going to be friends with Dylan," Harry said, although he didn't like the idea much better than Ron did. "Just ignore him; he's only trying to bait you. Besides, Nott doesn't have a girlfriend, either, so it's not like he has any more luck with women than we do."

Theodore overheard that last remark and almost fell out of his chair laughing as the other children stared at him.

Ginny, Hermione, and Dylan hadn't heard any of that last exchange and were even more confused than Ron and Harry. "What's the matter with him?" Ginny asked.

"I have no idea," Dylan replied. "Perhaps someone spiked the cider. You haven't been in the champagne, have you, Theo?"

Theodore shook his head, still choking with laughter. "I'll tell you about it later, Dylan. Your new Gryffindor friends have such quaint notions."

The girls stared at him in bewilderment, while Harry and Ron suspected that they had just been insulted even if they didn't know exactly how or why. "Slytherins," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

From a few tables away, Lupin said, "The kids seem to be having a good time."

"I suppose," Snape said skeptically as he watched Potter and Weasley glare at a laughing Theodore.

"It was such a beautiful ceremony," Lupin continued.

"I suppose," Snape repeated.

"Care to dance?" Lupin asked with a mischievous smile.

Snape groaned, "Oh please, Lupin! Wasn't it bad enough that you kissed me in front of the entire school?"

"Well, you did call me an exhibitionist!" Lupin laughed.

"That's because you are," Snape grumbled. "Please, Lupin, let's not make a scene at Branwen's wedding. This is supposed to be the bride's big day, after all."

Lupin didn't think that the bride would mind if they made a scene, but he said agreeably, "All right, but you owe me a dance in private later when we get home."

"Agreed," Snape said, feeling relieved that Lupin had given in so easily. He was so relieved, in fact, that he didn't even object when Lupin leaned against him, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. 

Lupin just grinned and snuggled closer, since that had been his intent all along. Severus would have objected if he'd simply snuggled up to him, but faced with a choice between a snuggle and a dance, he eagerly accepted the lesser of two evils. He was gradually training the Potions Master to become accustomed to these little public displays of affection, and who knew? Maybe someday Severus would even feel comfortable with dancing in public. Lupin pressed his face against his lover's shoulder to hide his grin, which would instantly have made Severus suspicious if he had seen it, because it was as sly and devious as any Slytherin's.

When the party was over and Sirius and Branwen were ready to depart for their honeymoon, they climbed aboard Buckbeak, who had been festively bedecked for the occasion: white and green ribbons had been tied onto his saddle and bridle, and he was wearing a huge wreath around his neck made of ivy and white roses. The wreath, unfortunately, was looking a little bedraggled, because the Hippogriff had gotten bored and started munching on the flowers. From his perch on Branwen's shoulder, Bane eyed Buckbeak warily, as if he were afraid the bigger animal might make a mouthful out of him, although Snape privately thought that in a fight between the raven and the Hippogriff, he'd put his money on Bane.

"So where are you going for your honeymoon, Padfoot?" Lupin asked.

"I'm going to show Branwen some of the places I hid out at while I was a fugitive," Sirius replied cheerfully.

"Oh, that sounds very romantic," Snape said sarcastically.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it, Snape," Sirius said with a grin. "I'll have you know that one of the places I stayed at was a lovely little tropical island."

"It sounds wonderful, Padfoot," Lupin laughed. "Have a good time, and send us a postcard!"

"See you in two weeks!" Sirius called out as Buckbeak took off. He and Branwen waved to their guests, who waved back until they flew out of sight.

The Weasleys stayed behind to help Hob, Lupin, Snape, and the children clean up. Lupin packed up the leftover food, which was enough to provide them with meals for the next couple of days, and Snape packed up some of the mysterious black and white flowers that Branwen's "grandfather" had sent. As they prepared to leave, Molly hugged and kissed Ginny and Ron, who squirmed with embarrassment.

"Aw, Mum!" Ron protested.

"Don't 'aw, Mum' me!" Molly said sternly. "You two be good now, and listen to Remus and Severus."

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said obediently.

"Yes, Mum," sighed Ron. "We're not little kids anymore, you know!"

"You'll always be my little boy," Molly replied, kissing him again. Ron turned red as he heard Dylan and Theodore snicker, but if he had looked at them more closely, he would have seen that they looked more wistful than mocking.

Lupin noticed, however, and he placed a gentle hand on each boy's shoulder, then said, "Well, shall we go home?"

Snape and the boys exchanged looks; they didn't really consider Grimmauld Place "home," but they nodded and followed Lupin into the Manor to take the Floo back to their temporary home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and Lupin look after Harry and the others at Grimmauld Place while Sirius and Branwen are gone; and Snape begins receiving letters from his estranged family shortly before school is about to start.

The children went to bed early that night, tired out by the long day, although Lupin and Snape stayed up much longer, with Lupin claiming the dance Snape owed him in the privacy of their bedroom, and then they shared a dance of a different sort between the sheets.

The next morning they all sat in the kitchen eating leftover wedding cake for breakfast, something that Mrs. Weasley would never have allowed them to do, Ron gleefully pointed out.

"How wicked of you," Theodore muttered sarcastically, marveling once again at the naivete and innocence of the Gryffindors. He both scorned and envied them for having led such a sheltered life. "How can you bear the guilt of it all?"

Before Ron could react, Lupin said, "Theodore," in a warning tone, and his foster son fell silent. When they finished eating, Lupin cheerfully suggested to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, "Why don't you show Theo and Dylan around the house?"

"Um, sure," Harry said, attempting to paste a friendly smile on his face although he wasn't sure that he succeeded. "Come on."

Dylan smiled in a friendly enough manner and followed willingly; Theodore shrugged and joined them. They went up the stairs leading out of the basement where the kitchen was located, and paused briefly at the Entrance Hall on the ground floor. "This is where the family portraits are kept," Harry whispered, pointing at the curtain-covered wall. "You have to be quiet when you come through here or you'll wake them."

"I know," Dylan whispered back. "We've already had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Black."

"She reminds me of my grandmother," Theodore muttered under his breath.

Harry almost felt sorry for him then; maybe that was why Nott was always so sullen, if his family was as nasty as Sirius's. He continued up the stairs to the first floor. "Here's the drawing room, the living room, and the dining room is over there. We eat up here sometimes, but mostly we just eat in the kitchen unless we're having company over or something."

"Hermione's and my room is down the hall," Ginny added.

"Maybe you shouldn't be telling them that," Ron said darkly, giving the two Slytherin boys--particularly Dylan--a mistrustful look.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny said impatiently. "We're all on the same side, and besides, it's not like anyone's going to be..." She hesitated. "...doing anything they shouldn't with Professor Snape in the house!" 

Theodore and Dylan glanced at each other, wondering if that was supposed to be a warning or just a statement of fact. Well, she was right either way.

"I have no interest in trying to sneak into a Gryffindor girl's bedroom," Theodore sneered, with a slight stress on the "I". Dylan flushed and glared at his foster brother.

Harry sighed, wondering why Nott had to be so insulting even when he was essentially assuring them that he wasn't up to mischief. Maybe it was a Slytherin thing...

"Why don't we go upstairs and see the rest of the house?" Hermione said brightly, blushing a little. She quickly headed for the staircase without waiting for a reply, and Ginny hurried after her, muttering something under her breath about how immature boys were. After a moment, the boys followed.

"Harry's and Ron's room is up here," Hermione said, her cheeks still pink. "Also, the library and Professor Snape's workroom."

"Professor Snape has a workroom here?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, he stayed here last summer," Hermione explained, "along with Professor Lupin, so he needed a place to brew the Wolfsbane Potion. And the Mind Restoration Potion, too."

"Why exactly was Snape staying here?" Theodore asked, his curiosity temporarily overriding his hostility towards the Gryffindors. "He said something about his duty to the Order..."

Hermione and Ginny giggled. "Well, supposedly he was here to protect Harry and give him Occlumency lessons," Ginny said, "but I think it was more because he wanted to be near Professor Lupin."

Dylan's eyes widened when Ginny mentioned the Occlumency lessons, but he said nothing. Theodore gave Ginny and Hermione a disgusted look, wondering why all the girls seemed to get so giggly over Lupin and Snape, when after all, most of them had despised the Potions Master before. "And Professor Lupin was here because...?"

"Professor Lupin was doing a lot of work for the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione replied, "and this was the Order headquarters. And I think Professor Dumbledore wanted to make sure there were a lot of wizards here to protect Harry. And because, well...Professor Lupin didn't have a job until the Headmaster was able to hire him again last year. Because of the anti-werewolf legislation and all."

"Oh," Theodore said, looking a bit shamefaced. Lucius Malfoy had been the main force behind it, but Thaddeus Nott had supported him on it.

"It's not your fault," Hermione said kindly. "And obviously Professor Lupin doesn't hold a grudge against you."

Theodore flushed and said nothing as they continued with the tour, but Dylan smiled at Hermione.

"Professor Lupin's a very forgiving guy," Ron muttered in a disapproving tone. Ginny glared at him, and everyone else pretended not to hear.

"Well, your room is up here on the third floor, of course," Hermione said. 

"It used to be my brothers' room," Ginny added. "Fred and George."

"Their shop is really cool," Dylan told her.

"Mum was really upset that they dropped out of school," Ginny said with a grin, "but Dad said he was just glad that they found gainful employment."

"Professor Lupin's and Professor Snape's rooms are down that hall," Hermione said. "And Sirius's and Professor Blackmore's are down that way, and..." She frowned and fell silent, and they could all hear a hammering noise coming from the other end of the hallway.

"Um...is anyone else supposed to be here?" Dylan asked.

"No," Harry said nervously. "That's the guest bedroom; it's supposed to be empty."

"Maybe it's a ghost," Ron said in a hushed voice. 

"It's probably just a doxy or a boggart," Hermione said, "but I thought we'd gotten rid of all of them the first summer we spent here." She took out her wand.

"Maybe we should go get the Professors and let them deal with it," Ron suggested.

"We can handle a little doxy by ourselves," Hermione said. When she put it that way, Harry had to agree with her. He could just imagine Snape's reaction if they went and asked for help: "Is handling a single doxy beyond the capabilities of the savior of the wizarding world, Potter?" the Potions Master would sneer.

"But what if it's not a doxy?" Ron protested. "What if it's a ghoul--there was one in the toilet when we first moved in, remember? Or some nasty Dark Magic item that we missed the first time around?" But the other children were already following Hermione down the hall. Ron headed after them, grumbling to himself, "I thought we weren't supposed to use magic outside of school; whatever happened to Miss Follow-the-Rules?"

They opened the door and walked in, wands upraised, and confronted--not a doxy or a boggart or a ghoul, but Hob, who was hammering together a crib. He dropped his hammer and looked up in surprise.

"Sorry, Hob," Harry said, pocketing his wand as he grinned sheepishly. "We heard noises and thought it might be a doxy or a boggart."  "Hob did not mean to disturb you," the little man said apologetically.

"That's okay," Harry said. "Er...what are you doing?" He suddenly noticed that the walls of the room had been painted in pastel colors of yellow and green, and that Hob had apparently brought down some old toys that had been stored in the attic, as well as the crib.

Now it was Hob's turn to look sheepish. "Hob was converting this room into a nursery."

All of the children gaped at him in shock. "Pr-Professor Blackmore's not pregnant, is she?" Harry exclaimed, feeling like he was going to faint.

But Hob shook his head, much to Harry's relief. "No, but the Mister and Missus just got married, and that means there will be children eventually...or at least Hob hopes so." Hob smiled wistfully. "Taking care of families is what Hob does best, and it has been a long time since Hob has had young children to look after." He gave Harry a worried look. "Doesn't Harry want brothers and sisters?"

"I, uh, haven't really thought about it," Harry admitted. It had never occurred to him that Sirius and Professor Blackmore might want to have children, but most married people did, didn't they? It was difficult to picture Blackmore being a mother...but on the other hand, she had always treated Lupin and Snape--and even Sirius, before they became engaged--in a motherly fashion. And hadn't Harry once thought to himself that it would be nice to have a brother or sister, someone whom he could be close to, unlike his cousin Dudley? He envied the Weasleys their large, loving family, even if the brothers did fight and tease each other a lot. 

"I guess it would be okay," Harry said. "It's just that the idea was a little shocking at first."

"Do you need any help?" Hermione offered.

"No, Hob can manage just fine."

"Well, then, we'll leave you to your work," Harry said, turning to leave.

"Er...the Mister doesn't know about this," Hob said hesitantly.

Harry grinned; it was clear that this was Hob's secret project, and it wouldn't do any harm to indulge him in his little fantasy. It would've been funny, though, to see the reaction on Sirius's face when he learned that Hob had been building a nursery. "Don't worry, it's our little secret, right, guys?"

"Right," Hermione, Ginny, and Ron chorused.

"Of course," Dylan said with a smile, then elbowed his foster brother in the side.

"Ouch! Oh, all right, what do I care, anyway?" Theodore said. "I won't say anything."

"Hob thanks you," the little man said, then returned to working on the crib.

"Well, that's about it," Harry said as they left the "nursery". "Buckbeak's room is upstairs, but he's gone off with Sirius and the Professor, and the attic is above that. It's mostly filled with junk."

"Buckbeak's room used to be Mrs. Black's room," Ginny added with a mischievous smile. "Sirius didn't like his mother very much."

"Having seen her portrait, I'm not surprised," Dylan said.

"I don't think it's funny," Hermione said, frowning. "I think it's sad that Sirius and his family were estranged and that they didn't get to make up before his parents died."

"Yeah, Mum was really upset when Percy wasn't speaking to us," Ginny said guiltily.

"Oh, come on!" Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Does Mrs. Black look like the making-up type to you? She could have lived for another century and she still wouldn't have made up with Sirius!"

"You're probably right," Hermione reluctantly admitted, thinking of the portrait downstairs. "But still..."

"Sirius says that family isn't always determined by blood," Harry said firmly. "I'm his family now, and so are Professor Blackmore and Professor Lupin!"

Theodore scowled, not really liking the thought of Lupin belonging to another family, even though he was aware that Lupin loved Sirius Black like a brother, but Dylan smiled as he thought of his new family.

"Yes," Dylan said quietly, "Professor Lupin and Professor Snape and Theo are all my family now, even though we're not related by blood." Theodore's expression softened a little at that. "Although I guess that's not really true. We found out that Theo and I are distant cousins; Snape says that all the pureblood families are related if you go far back enough."

"Maybe you and Snape are related," Ron teased Harry.

Harry shuddered. "Don't even joke about something like that!"

Everyone laughed, even Theodore. "I'm sure Snape would be even more appalled than you if that were true, Potter!" he said.

"So what did you think of the house?" Hermione asked Dylan.

"It's nice," Dylan said politely.

"It gives me the creeps," Theodore said.

"Oh, don't be such a prat, Theo!" Dylan scolded, beginning to get annoyed with the way his foster brother kept baiting the Gryffindors.

"I mean it," Theodore said unhappily, and Dylan saw that he wasn't just being rude to get on the Gryffindors' nerves this time. "I wish we were back in Lupin's cottage."

"What's wrong, Theo?" Dylan asked in a gentler voice.

"It's just that it's your typical Slytherin pureblood mansion," Theodore replied. "Big and gloomy and you can almost smell the Dark Magic on it..."

"Hey, you should've seen it before we cleaned it up!" Ron said. "It was full of doxies and rats, and there were house-elf heads mounted on the walls..."

"It's actually a lot more cheerful and homey since Hob moved in," Hermione finished with a smile. "And Sirius got rid of all the Dark Magic items he could find."

"It reminds me of my home," Theodore whispered, his gray-green eyes looking murkier than usual. "Nott Manor, I mean, not the cottage."

Now that Theo had mentioned it, Dylan noticed that it did resemble Nott Manor, although it was a bit bigger and grander, since the Blacks had been wealthier than the Notts. He reached out and laid a hand on his foster brother's shoulder, not knowing what else to do.

That touch snapped Theodore back to reality, and he noticed that the Gryffindors were staring at him with looks of concern on their faces. It had been ingrained into him as a child never to show weakness in front anyone, especially an enemy, and it was a difficult habit to break, and just as hard to break was the belief that the Gryffindors were his enemies, no matter how many times Lupin assured him that wasn't true. 

So he threw back his head, laughed, and said lightly, "I can't believe this place was actually the Order of the Phoenix headquarters! It looks more like the sort of place a Death Eater would live!"

But his laugh was brittle and his eyes still looked haunted, so Ron bit back the reply that came to mind, which was: "Well, you should know!"

They headed downstairs in silence and found Lupin waiting for them in the drawing room. By that time, Theodore had managed to compose himself, so Lupin didn't notice anything out of the ordinary; if his foster son seemed a bit sullen, he chalked it up to his antipathy towards the Gryffindors.

"I did promise you some Japanese lessons, Hermione," Lupin said cheerfully. "We could start now, if you'd like."

"Oh yes, thank you, Professor!" Hermione said.

"You're welcome to join us," Lupin told Ron, Harry, and Ginny.

"Sure, it sounds interesting," Ginny said.

"Extra lessons?" Ron asked, sounding horrified. "During the summer?"

"I can see why your grades are so lousy," Theodore muttered under his breath.

"It's strictly voluntary," Lupin said with a smile. 

Ron and Harry hung back uncertainly as Lupin settled down to work with Dylan, Theodore, and the girls. "Well, if everyone else is going to do it..." Harry said.

"Aw, come on, Harry," Ron said. "Let's go play Exploding Snap or something."

"Stay," Hermione urged. "It'll be fun."

"You have a strange idea of fun," Ron said.

"Stay or go, but please just be quiet," Theodore grumbled.

"Well, we can't play cards all day," Harry said with a shrug, and joined the study group. So Ron stayed too, but he spent more time leafing through Lupin's Japanese comic books than he did studying.

"Hey, these are kind of cool," he said.

"Yes, and if you'd pay attention, you might actually be able to read them one day," his sister told him dryly.

After about an hour, Lupin said, "That's enough for today; you kids go have some fun."

"What about studying for my N.E.W.T.s?" Theodore asked. 

"This is your summer vacation," Lupin said firmly. "Skipping one day won't hurt."

"But we didn't do any studying yesterday because of the wedding and Professor Snape--"

"I'll handle Severus," Lupin said with a smile. "Go have some fun; that's an order."

That order might be easier to follow if he hadn't been stuck in a house full of Gryffindors, Theodore thought to himself disgruntledly, but he followed the other children out of the room.

"Geez, Nott, you study almost as much as Hermione does," Ron said.

"If you did too, you'd get better grades," Hermione told him in a huffy voice.

"It's not really my idea," Theodore said. "Snape makes us study for at least an hour or two every day."

"He says it's important, especially for Theo, because his N.E.W.T.s are coming up," Dylan added. Hermione nodded approvingly.

"Man, I'm glad Snape's not my dad!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you're not my brother!" Theodore snapped.

"It's not so bad, really," Dylan said, keeping his voice calm and level although he was privately thinking that before the two weeks were up he'd probably be sorely tempted to strangle both Theo and Weasley. "It's not like there's much else to do but study anyway, living in the middle of the woods. And Lupin makes sure that Snape gives us a break every now and then. Although one nice thing about living in the woods is that we can practice our Quidditch moves. You can't fly around in the middle of the city without risking Muggles seeing you."

"Yeah, that's true," Harry agreed regretfully. "I'd sure like to get some practice in before school starts. Especially since you Slytherins have already started practicing!"

"What?" Ron asked. "Hey, no fair!"

"Well, maybe Remus will let us go back to the cottage one day, and we could have a practice match," Dylan suggested cheerfully. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"

"Do you think Snape will go for that?" Theodore asked skeptically.

"Remus is the only one we need to convince," Dylan said dismissively. "He always gets Snape to do whatever he wants...eventually."

Theodore smiled. "Don't let Snape hear you say that!"

Dylan laughed and the girls giggled, while Ron muttered, "I still can't get used to those two being together!"

Later that night, they all gathered together in the drawing room after dinner. Dylan and Hermione sat in one corner of the room, quietly discussing a book they had read, while Harry and Lupin played a game of wizard chess. Ginny cheered on Lupin, while Ron rooted for Harry, offering advice every now and then.

"Hey, no coaching from the sidelines!" Lupin laughed. "I'm already handicapped to begin with; chess isn't really my game--Severus says I'm not devious enough."

"Not in chess, anyway," Snape muttered sourly to himself as he read a Potions journal. "He's devious enough when he's trying to get his own way about something."

Theodore was reading a book on runes, but he glanced up every now and then to watch Lupin and Potter, and every time he did so, he felt a little stab of jealousy and resentment. He wasn't sure why; he'd known all along that Lupin was a Gryffindor and that Potter's father had been one of his best friends, but he just didn't like sharing Lupin with Potter. Lupin, Snape, and Dylan were the only family he had now--his parents had been willing to hand him over to Voldemort, and his remaining blood relatives wanted nothing to do with him, while Potter was the Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, who had no shortage of people who adored him. Theodore conveniently chose to overlook the fact that Potter was an orphan like himself, whose parents had been killed by Theodore's parents' Master.

Snape saw the look in Theodore's eyes and sympathized, because he knew that feeling all too well. He hated sharing Lupin with anyone but his two foster sons, and he especially hated sharing him with Potter, although the worst edge of his animosity had been blunted after the war ended. 

Snape was finally content now that he and Lupin were able to openly live together as lovers, and as much as he complained about the werewolf's exhibitionism and public displays of affection, he secretly enjoyed them because they were proof of Lupin's devotion to him. But still, he understood what Theodore was feeling, so he set aside the magazine he had been reading and said casually, "How about a game of chess, Mr. Nott? You're the first challenging opponent I've had in a long time; it's no fun playing against the werewolf--I can beat him in less time than it takes Longbottom to melt a cauldron."

Theodore laughed, looking very pleased, while Ron glared at Snape. Harry would also have taken offense at the comment about Neville, but somehow he had the strange feeling that Snape didn't really mean it. Lupin seemed to agree, because he just grinned and winked at his lover. Dylan laughed, and the girls looked startled but impressed; it wasn't often that Snape handed out compliments to his students, even the Slytherins. Theodore Apparated to his room to fetch the chess set that had been Lupin's birthday gift (Dylan cheerfully called out, "Show-off!" as he vanished), and the rest of the evening passed pleasantly.

Later that night in bed, Snape told Lupin, "Theodore is jealous of Potter," and explained why he'd proposed the chess game.

Lupin sighed, looking worried. "It's only natural for Theo to still be feeling a little insecure, considering what his life was like before he came to live with us; I should have realized that he might resent Harry. I'll try to be more aware of it, and to reassure Theo that we love him."

"Subtly, Lupin," Snape warned, his pale face turning a little pink; he was still uncomfortable about throwing the word "love" around as freely as Lupin did. It was hard enough for him to verbally express his affection for Lupin, much less the boys. He supposed it was a good thing that Lupin was sentimental enough for the both of them. "He'll be embarrassed if he realizes that we noticed."

"Of course, Severus. I do know how to be subtle, you know."

"Oh, really?" Snape asked skeptically. "I didn't think that Gryffindors knew the meaning of the word; your idea of subtle seems to be pouncing on me at the head table..."

"I wasn't trying to be subtle, then," Lupin grinned, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck. "My idea of subtle is playing footsie with you under the table." Snape rolled his eyes and Lupin laughed. "But seriously, Severus, I'm glad you told me about Theodore." He sighed again. "It's going to be difficult, trying to spend time with Harry without hurting Theo's feelings. And I think Harry was a little hurt that I haven't been around much this summer, but we were just so busy with the boys moving in and all..."

Snape laughed and said, "It's your own damn fault, Lupin, for being so popular! Every brat in the school seems to adore you, from Potter down to Crabbe and Goyle, and even Malfoy! Now I, on the other hand, don't have that problem..."

"You're more popular than you think, Severus," Lupin said, smiling tenderly at him. "The Slytherins know how much you care about them now."

Snape looked horrified at that thought. "No, I don't think so, Lupin!" he said, shaking his head. "They're just grateful to me because I brought you into the dungeon."

Lupin thought it was more than that, but he let the matter drop. "Maybe if you could spend more time with Theo, he won't mind so much when I spend time with Harry. Your approval means a lot to him, too, you know."

"I'll try," Snape said dubiously, "but I think I make a rather poor consolation prize. And I think that Theodore's needs should come before Potter's; he is your foster son, after all, and Potter already has a godfather."

"Of course Theo is my son and my first responsibility is to him and Dylan," Lupin said, sounding very upset, "but Harry is like a nephew to me! His father was one of my dearest friends, and Harry is dear to me as well; I can't just cast him aside." But he felt better when Severus gently stroked his cheek in what was obviously an apologetic gesture; it was unrealistic to expect his lover to shed all those years of bitterness at once, but he was working hard to move beyond it, and that was what mattered. Lupin caught Severus's hand between his own hands, and brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"Slytherins are greedy," Snape said softly, tracing Lupin's lips with his fingertips. "We don't like to share."

"Well, that I can understand," Lupin said, nipping at Snape's fingertips playfully. "Because the wolf doesn't like to share, either. In fact--" He growled and bared his teeth. "--sometimes it's downright possessive."

"I love it when you go all wolfish on me, Remus," Snape purred.

"I love it when you purr like that, Severus," Lupin said, licking his lips. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and let out a little yelp of mingled pleasure and pain when Snape bit down there, hard.

"That does sound very wolfish indeed, Lupin," Snape said, grinning wickedly in a way that made Lupin whine in anticipation. "But what I would really like is to make you howl for me."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Lupin growled.

That was all the invitation Snape needed; he pushed Lupin down on the bed and covered his lover's mouth and body with his own.

A little while later, Harry and Ron sat bolt upright in bed as they heard what sounded like a wolf's howl echoing through the house. It awoke Mrs. Black's portrait, and she began shouting, "Begone from the house of my fathers!"

"What was that?!" Ron exclaimed.

"That sounded like Professor Lupin," Harry said.

"It's not a full moon tonight, is it?" Ron asked. "Snape didn't say anything about brewing the Wolfsbane Potion. What the hell are they doing up there?"

It was the middle of the night, so they were probably in bed...oh. Harry's face turned scarlet. "I think I'd rather not know," he mumbled, pulling his pillow over his head in attempt to muffle any other sounds that might be coming from upstairs. Downstairs, Ginny and Hermione were giggling and blushing furiously.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom directly above Harry's and Ron's, Dylan flushed and said, "I think they forgot to set a silence spell on their room."

"As if it isn't hard enough to sleep in this house as it is," Theodore grumbled. It was bad enough that the mansion reminded him of his childhood home, without having to listen to screaming portraits and libidinous werewolves!

"Sev," Lupin panted, as Mrs. Black's shouts finally sank in through the lust-filled haze fogging his thoughts. "Sev, stop!"

"What?" Snape asked, his voice just as breathless as Lupin's, but also tinged with impatience and annoyance. "Is something wrong? You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago."

"I am, very much," Lupin replied. "But I, um, think we forgot to cast a silence spell before we started."

Snape's black eyes widened as the significance of Mrs. Black's shouting finally dawned on him, and he cursed and lunged for his wand as Lupin laughed.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin! It's not funny!" Snape snapped, which just made Lupin laugh even harder.

*** 

Hob pulled the curtains shut over Mrs. Black's portrait, and silence fell over the house once more, and eventually the children fell asleep. But Theodore's dreams were troubled; the mansion, too much like his old home, had awakened unpleasant memories...

He was six years old, and playing in the living room with the new toy dragon he had gotten for Christmas. It was his favorite gift, not just because it could really fly, but because Uncle Rafe had given it to him. Uncle Rafe was his favorite relative; he always had time to hug Theo and play with him and tell him stories, and he never got mad at Theo the way Father did. It often seemed to Theo that he could never do anything right, at least as far as his father was concerned: he got punished when he made too much noise and disturbed Father, but if he sat quietly and and read a book, Father would say that he was raising his son to be a man, not some "sissy bookworm". And at family parties, he would get in trouble for fighting with his cousins when they teased him, but if he didn't fight back, Father would scold him for being a "weakling". Mother was nice to him, but only when Father wasn't around. Secretly, Theo liked his uncle better than either of his parents, although that thought made him feel a little guilty.

Theo laughed as the dragon flew around the Christmas tree, then his father came out of his study and swatted at the toy irritably, sending it sailing into the wall. One wing snapped off, and the dragon fell to the ground and lay still. "How can I concentrate with all that racket going on?" he snarled.

Theo didn't think that he had been that loud, but he knew better than to argue with his father, and although he was upset about his broken toy, he also knew better than to complain about it. "I'm sorry, Father," he said meekly.

"Sorry's not good enough!" Father snapped. "Maybe this will teach you to behave!" He raised his wand and cast a Stinging Hex.

Theo bit down hard on his lip to keep from crying, which would only make his father even angrier. Only after Father had gone back into the study and slammed the door did Mother appear. "Oh, my poor little Theo," she said, gathering him into her arms. Her embrace actually made his wounds hurt more, and he cried out in pain. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear," she said, gently kissing him on the forehead. "Let's go put some salve on those welts; that will make you feel better."

"Why does he always hurt me?" Theo asked, sniffling a little as his mother applied salve to his wounds upstairs; it was safe to cry in front of Mother, as long as Father wasn't around.

"Oh, Theo," his mother said helplessly. "Your father has been...a little short-tempered lately; things have been stressful at the Ministry recently. You have to be a very good boy and be quiet while Father's working. It would probably be best if you only play upstairs in your room for the next few days."

"He gets mad when I'm quiet, too," Theo said sullenly. "Everything I do makes him mad."

"Oh, that's not true, dear," his mother said, but she didn't really look as though she believed it. "There," she said, as she dabbed salve on the last welt. "You'll feel all better by tomorrow." She kissed him and fussed over him, and Theo let her, but deep inside he resented that all she ever did was comfort him, and not stop his father from hurting him in the first place...

The dream shifted, and he was now seven years old. This time the attack was totally unexpected; Father was in a good mood, laughing and talking with his friend Andreas Avery, who had come over for dinner. Father had even been mildly pleased with Theo when he had demonstrated some of the hexes he was able to cast for Mr. Avery; at seven, he already knew a good deal more about hexes and curses than most first-years at Hogwarts did. 

"I've been working on a new spell, Andreas," Father said, out of the blue. "Let me show you." He took out his wand, pointed it at a startled Theodore, and shouted, "Minuo!"

Theodore shrieked, as much in surprise as pain, as numerous shallow cuts opened up on his hands and arms and began bleeding.

"Clever!" Avery said approvingly. "Can you control the rate of the bleeding?"

"Of course," Father said, flicking his wand in a circular motion. The cuts widened and the blood began streaming out of them at what seemed to Theo to be an alarmingly fast rate, and he started to scream as Avery laughed. Mother just sat there, frozen, her eyes wide and her face pale. Father flicked his wand in the opposite direction, and the cuts slowly sealed themselves. "Oh, stop that screeching, boy, before I really give you something to scream about!" he said contemptuously. "Marta, get him out of here and clean him up."

Mother instantly jumped to her feet, grabbed Theo's wrist--which was slick with blood; the sleeves of his robe were soaked with it--and ran out of the room as he stumbled along behind her, trying to stifle his screams and sobs. She took him to his room and fetched a jar of healing salve, but as she reached for him, saying, "My poor Theo," he angrily slapped her hand away and the jar fell to the floor with a clatter. "Let me help you, my sweet. We need to put some salve on those cuts so they don't scar."

"If you really wanted to help me," Theo snapped, "you'd stop Father from hurting me!"

"But your father is the head of the household," Mother said. "It's not my place to--"

"Liar!" shouted Theo. "You're just a coward! You'd rather he hurt me than you!"

"That's not true!" Mother protested tearfully, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Go away!" screamed Theo. "I hate you!" His mother fled the room, sobbing.

*** 

Theodore whimpered in his sleep, and Dylan stirred slightly, not quite waking, but a worried frown crossed his lips as he slept. Meanwhile, Theodore continued to dream about the past...

*** 

He was eight years old, and he had run out of the house onto the estate grounds to cry where no one would hear him. But his Uncle Rafe had stopped by for a visit and found him. "What's wrong, Theo?" he asked gently. When Theo remained silent, he put an arm around him and said, "It's okay, Theo, you can tell me."

"I can't tell anyone," Theo whispered. 

"You can tell me," Rafe repeated, but Theo shook his head. 

"I'll get in trouble."

"You don't have to be scared, Theo," Rafe said, kindly but firmly. "I'll protect you."

"Really?" Theo asked, feeling a sudden surge of hope. He had always secretly wished that he could live with Rafe instead of his parents. "Even...even from my dad?"

"Did your father hurt you?" Rafe asked, his eyes and voice suddenly going hard and angry. Theo trembled a little, and his uncle's expression softened and he said in a gentler voice, "You can trust me, Theo, I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not even your father." So Theo pulled up the sleeve of his robe, showing Rafe the blisters and welts on his arm; his father had been experimenting with a stronger variation of the Stinging Hex. "Thaddeus did that to you?" Rafe asked, sounding angry again.

Theo nodded, then said nervously, "He'll punish me if he finds out I told you. You said you'd protect me. Can...can I come live with you, Uncle Rafe?"

"Of course," Rafe said, giving him a hug, and Theo felt a profound sense of relief. "Go pack your things."

"Um..." Theo said, casting a fearful look at the house. "Maybe we should just leave now." He didn't care about his clothes or books or toys; he just wanted to be gone before his father realized he was missing.

"No," Rafe said, walking towards the house with a determined look in his eyes. "I'm not leaving your mother behind with Thaddeus."

Theo wanted to protest, "Mother can take care of herself!" It's not like she ever went out of her way to help HIM, after all! But he didn't want to make Rafe mad at him. As he followed his uncle, he had the sinking feeling that he had just made a terrible mistake by showing Rafe his wounds.

"Uncle Rafe, please don't, Father will be angry," Theo pleaded. "We can bring Mother, but shouldn't we wait till Father leaves for work?"

But Rafe ignored him and marched into the house, shouting "Marta!"

Mother came running out, followed by Father. "What's wrong, Rafe?" she asked, looking puzzled, her eyes flickering nervously towards her husband.

"Pack your bags," Rafe said curtly. "I'm taking you and Theo with me."

"Isn't this all a bit sudden? We don't have time to visit you now, but maybe later--"

"I don't mean for a visit, I mean permanently!" Rafe snapped. "I'm not leaving you and Theo in this house for another day!"

"Don't meddle in things that don't concern you, boy!" Father snarled. "You have no right to interfere with my family--"

"They're my family, too!" Rafe said. He grabbed Theo's arm and pulled up the sleeve of his robe before he could protest. "You have no right to call yourself a father, you monster!"

"Rafe, don't!" Mother begged.

"Look at what he's done to your son!" Rafe exclaimed. "How can you want to stay with him after that?"

"He's my son," Father said, in a low but dangerous voice that made Theo tremble. "I will do with him as I please. You're my wife's brother, so I'll give you one chance to walk out of here, and we'll forget this ever happened."

"I'm not leaving without Theo and Marta!"

"Do you think your parents will even want her back?" Father sneered. "All she meant to them was a marriage alliance; she's useless to them now--in fact, she'd bring shame upon them, fleeing from the marriage they arranged for her."

"If they won't look after her and Theo, then I will," Rafe said stubbornly.

"Stop this, Rafe!" Mother shouted urgently. "Please, just go! You're only making things worse!"

Rafe ignored her. "I've never liked you," he said to Father. "I always thought you were a sadistic bastard, and now I'm sure of it. You were a Death Eater--"

"RAFE!" Mother screamed in protest.

"I was under an Imperius Curse," Father said. "I was not responsible for my actions; the Ministry absolved me. They even hired me to work for them."

"You were a Death Eater in truth," Rafe hissed, "and I'll find a way to prove it and show everyone what you really are! The proof is already on your son's body that you've been experimenting with Dark Magic!"

"Rafe, stop!" Mother continued to scream. "Stop this right now!"

"You had your chance, boy," Father said, and pulled out his wand. Rafe reached for his own wand, but he was too late. "Avada Kedavra!" Father shouted, and Theo and Mother both screamed as Rafe fell to the floor, dead. "I will do the same to you if either of you breathes a word of this to anyone, do you understand me?" Father said in a deadly whisper, still holding up his wand. Mother nodded, tears streaming down her face, and Theo nodded frantically. Father's eyes narrowed as he looked at Theo, and he said, "Perhaps this will teach you to keep your mouth shut in the future. Crucio!"

Theo fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain as he was subjected to a Cruciatus Curse for the first time in his life...

The dream shifted yet again, and he was now sixteen years old. He was on the Hogwarts grounds, watching the Death Eaters battle Dumbledore and his allies. He watched the Dark Lord kill Cornelius Fudge with some sort of magical dagger that literally drained the life out of him. He watched a badly wounded Voldemort beckon to Thaddeus Nott, and he watched his father head towards him, a look of grim determination in his eyes. Theodore turned to flee, but Thaddeus called out, "Imperio! Come to me, Theodore!" And against his will, he found himself moving towards his father.

Apparently he wasn't moving fast enough, because Thaddeus grabbed him and literally dragged him towards the Dark Lord, as Theodore begged, "Please, please Father, don't do this, please!"

"I'm not happy about giving up my only heir, as worthless as you are," Thaddeus growled. "But it's you or me."

Theodore desperately pleaded with his mother to help him, but she was as useless as always, and simply stood there and wept. "Help me!" he screamed. "Somebody please help me!"

"Here, my Lord," Thaddeus said, shoving Theodore forward. "A sacrifice for you."

"Father, no!" Theodore shouted, then felt Voldemort's skeletal hands closing around him. "NOOOOO!!!"

*** 

Theodore's screams finally woke Dylan, and he ran over to his foster brother's bed and grasped his shoulder to shake him awake...

*** 

Harry and Ron awoke to the sound of someone screaming for help. "What the--?" Ron said, rubbing his eyes.

"It's Nott!" Harry exclaimed, fumbling on the nightstand for his wand. "It sounds like he's being attacked!"

"Oh, Merlin," Ron moaned, "I hope it's only a boggart!" But he reached for his wand and he and Harry both Apparated to the room upstairs.

They found Nott sitting up in bed, his eyes wild and frantic; they seemed to stare right through Ron and Harry as if they weren't there. Dylan lay sprawled out on the floor, a bruise on his cheek.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. "Are we under attack by Death Eaters or something?"

"I think he was having a nightmare," Dylan said, looking a little stunned. "I tried to wake him up and he hit me; knocked me right off the bed."

Snape and Lupin burst into the room a moment later, followed by Ginny and Hermione, who were out of breath from having to run up the stairs. They all had their wands out, but Lupin asked Dylan, "Nightmare?" and when Dylan nodded, he pocketed his. Snape raised his wand and said, "Accio," and a wand flew off the nightstand into his hand. 

Theodore cringed as Lupin approached and sat on the bed. "Theo," he said gently, reaching out to his foster son. He wrapped his arms around the boy and held him as he screamed hysterically and struggled to break free. But Lupin had the unnatural strength of a lycanthrope, and Theodore could not break his grip. He held his son gently but firmly, even when the boy hit and clawed at him, murmuring, "Shh, Theo, it's me, Remus. It's all right, you're safe now, everything's going to be all right."

It took Theodore a few minutes to realize that it wasn't the Dark Lord who was holding him. And strangely enough, it wasn't Lupin's voice that first penetrated his consciousness and broke through the fear. "Theodore!" he heard a deep, very familiar voice shout urgently. "Mr. Nott!"

"Pr-Professor?" he stuttered, and saw Snape looking down at him, his black eyes anxious and concerned. 

He heard a soft sigh of relief, and Lupin said, "Theo?"

"R-Remus?" Theodore said in a shaky voice as he looked into kindly blue eyes, not malevolent crimson ones.

"Were you having a nightmare, Theo?" Lupin asked in a gentle voice.

"Trust a Gryffindor to ask the obvious," Snape muttered sarcastically, but felt a sense of relief that the boy had finally snapped out of his hysterics.

"I dreamt...my father...the Dark Lord...trying to kill me," Theodore stammered, not very coherently, but Lupin and Snape understood him well enough.

He began to shake uncontrollably, crying in harsh, choked sobs, and Lupin pulled him closer, continuing to hold him in that unbreakable grip that was now reassuring rather than frightening.

Snape looked up and saw the Gryffindors gaping at them in shock. "The show's over!" he snapped. "Go back to your rooms!" In a kinder voice, he said to Dylan, "Give us a few minutes alone with Theodore, Dylan."

"I'm sure they were just trying to help, Severus," Lupin said mildly. He smiled at Harry and the others in a slightly distracted way, as most of his attention was focused on comforting Theodore. "Why don't you all go downstairs to the kitchen and get Hob to fix you some hot milk or cocoa to help you rest? And perhaps you could have him send some up for Theo."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, and hastily obeyed. He was a little offended by Snape's tone, but he was eager enough to leave; he felt extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable watching Nott cry. If someone had asked him a few months ago, he would have said that the boy--that all the Slytherins--were incapable of crying, but clearly he was wrong.

The children headed down to the kitchen in a very subdued manner, and found Hob already heating a small cauldron full of milk (he had to stand on a stool to reach the top of the stove). "Hot milk and honey," he said, stirring the cauldron. "Very good for soothing bad dreams and getting a good night's rest."

"Oh, you heard Nott screaming, too, then?" Harry asked.

"I'm pretty sure the whole house heard him, Harry," Ron said as Dylan glared at him. "Actually, I'm surprised that Mrs. Black's portrait isn't screaming, too."

"She was," Hob replied, "but Hob pulled the curtains shut and she stopped. She does not bother with screaming for very long now, because no one pays any attention to her. It makes her quite cross."

Harry smiled a little; it was true, come to think of it, that they had become so accustomed to the portrait's shouting, that they just tended to ignore her until it stopped. He had learned to tune it out the same way he tuned out Ron's constant complaints about how much homework they had or Parvati's and Lavender's mindless chatter about clothes and boys at school. 

Hob ladled out the milk into mugs and set them on the table, along with a platter of chocolate-covered biscuits. Then he set three more mugs on a tray and said, "Hob will take these up to Mister Snape and Mister Lupin and Theodore," and hurried out of the room.

The children sipped their milk and nibbled on the cookies in silence for a couple of minutes, then Harry asked hesitantly, "Does he often have nightmares like that?"

"I don't know," Dylan said, looking uneasy. "I've only been sharing a room with him since June, and he's never had one before that I've noticed. But it's not surprising, I guess, considering..." His voice trailed off, but Harry and the others could fill in the blanks on their own: considering that Nott's parents had been Death Eaters and had, apparently, tried to hand him over to Voldemort in the middle of the battle. They had not witnessed it themselves, but they had heard about it after the battle was over.

Dylan gave Ron and Harry a hard look, and said in quiet but intense voice, "You had better not tell anyone about this. If I catch you laughing about it with your Gryffindor buddies, I'll make you very sorry--"

"Dylan!" Hermione objected indignantly. "Of course we would never do something like that!"

"You and Ginny wouldn't, but I'm not so sure about Potter and Weasley," Dylan said, not taking his eyes off the Gryffindor boys.

"We'd never--" Harry started to protest.

"The two of you gave Draco a hard time about his father last year," Dylan interrupted. 

Harry and Ron flushed, looking a little shamefaced. "Well, what about all the things that Malfoy's done to us?" Ron protested. "Those 'Potter Stinks' buttons back in fourth year, and all the lies he told Rita Skeeter about us, not to mention the 'Weasley Is Our King' song--"

"Well, I won't deny that Malfoy had it coming to him," Dylan admitted. "But you went around telling the entire school that I was a Death Eater's son when I had just barely met you and had never done anything to you."

"Well, it's the truth," Ron mumbled, but he stared down at the table, unable to meet Dylan's eyes.

"Yes, it was true," Dylan replied, "and people would have found out on their own eventually. But you went out of your way to tell everyone about it, and that I would likely turn out the same as my father."

"Sorry," Ron said, still staring at the table.

"I don't care what you say about me," Dylan said vehemently, "but if you do anything to hurt my brother, you'll find out just how much Dark Magic I really do know!"

"Dylan, stop it!" Hermione snapped, looking a little frightened. "Of course Ron and Harry won't gossip about Theodore!"

Ginny gave all three boys a stern look. "Isn't it about time we stopped fighting with each other?" she asked impatiently. "Are we going to go back to quarreling over petty things after we all cooperated to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters?" Dylan started to protest that Theodore wasn't a "petty thing," but Ginny cut him off before he could finish. "Why don't we all promise that we won't talk about what happened tonight with anyone else?"

"I promise," Harry said earnestly. "People have been gossiping about me ever since I started at Hogwarts, and I've never liked it. I wouldn't want to treat anyone else that way."

"I promise I won't say anything," Ron said. When Dylan still regarded him suspiciously, he added, "On my honor as a Gryffindor."

"All right," Dylan said, seeming pacified by that.

"So," Ron asked hesitantly as they drank their milk, "were you like Snape, a spy all along?"

Now it was Dylan's turn to flush with shame, because Weasley's malicious gossip had been true enough at the time; he had aspired to follow in his father's footsteps, at least until he had discovered what the Death Eaters were really like. Maybe he shouldn't tell them; it would probably only reinforce Weasley's suspicions, and he was ashamed to confess the truth to Hermione, who had believed in him all along. But sitting in the darkened kitchen--which was lit only by the fading embers in the fireplace--at this late hour, combined with the shared sense of unease that they all felt, served to create an odd sort of intimacy, and Dylan found himself sharing things with the Gryffindor students that he would never have spoken of in the light of day.

"No," Dylan said softly. "I only got caught up in all this because I was stupid. I loved my father, even though I never knew him. My mother used to tell me all these stories about how they met and fell in love, and how brave and handsome and charming he was, and I...I guess I built up this image in my head that was probably better than the reality. I mean, nobody is really that perfect, and I know he did some bad things, but..." His voice turned sad and wistful, "But my mother loved him, and so did Professor Blackmore, and Lupin says he liked him, so he couldn't have been all bad..."

Harry knew that Evan Rosier had probably tortured and killed people as a Death Eater, but suddenly he remembered the glimpse of his own father that he had seen in the Pensieve, and he felt a little more sympathy for Dylan. 

"I know how you feel, a little," he said. "I mean, my dad never joined the Death Eaters or anything like that, but I always thought of him as perfect, because people talked about what a great guy he was and how he died a hero, trying to protect me and my mum. But then I found out..." Harry hesitated; he had promised Snape that he wouldn't talk about what he had seen in the Pensieve, and he had already broken that promise once, when he went to talk to Sirius about it. "Um...but it turned out that he wasn't so perfect, after all. I found out from Sirius and Lupin and Blackmore that he used to play pranks on the Slytherins, especially Snape. Not funny ones, but really mean ones. Bad enough that Lupin wanted to stop him, but he was too scared to."

"Yeah, Remus told us a little about that," Dylan said, giving Harry a grateful look. "So, in a way, you were right, Weasley," he continued. "When I first came to Hogwarts, I did want to become a Death Eater and avenge my father's death."

Hermione looked shocked, and even Ron looked a little startled. "What changed your mind?" Harry asked.

Dylan flushed. "Well, I became friends with Hermione, and suddenly killing Mud--er, Muggles didn't seem like such a good idea, after all." Hermione smiled at him, and he was filled with a sense of relief that she didn't hate him. "And my Uncle Math fought on Dumbledore's side in the first war, so if the Dark Lord won, that meant he would probably kill Math and Goewin, and I didn't want them to die. And Professor Snape kept trying to steer me away from the Death Eaters...I thought at first he was just being cautious, or was testing my loyalty, but he was trying to save me." He grimaced. "I didn't figure that out until it was too late, though."

"What happened?" Hermione asked softly.

"I guess the Dark Lord figured out that my mother and I were getting cold feet," Dylan replied. "He had Lucius Malfoy kidnap Mother and then told me he would kill her if I didn't join them. So I did. I let him put the Dark Mark on me. And the worst part of it was, he didn't want me because my father had been such a loyal follower; he never cared about my father at all, even though he died rather than betray his Master. He was just using me to get the vampiric roses from the Rosier mansion."

"The roses that almost killed Fred," Ron said.

Dylan nodded, looking guilty. "If he'd died, it would have been my fault. Voldemort had already used them to kill Professor Karkaroff."

Hermione reached out to touch his hand, and Harry muttered, "So that's what happened to Karkaroff!"

Dylan cheered up slightly as he added, "But I went to Professor Snape after I was Marked, and he helped me. He told me the truth about himself--not everything, at least not at first, but enough so that I knew he wasn't really a loyal Death Eater. He taught me Occlumency so that I could protect myself from Voldemort--"

"You, too?" A startled Harry asked, although in hindsight it was obvious that Dylan must have had some way to disguise his true loyalties or he would have been exposed as a traitor long before the final battle.

"Yes, he had to, otherwise Voldemort might have realized that Snape was helping me, and then he'd probably have killed both of us," Dylan replied. "I remember Ginny said something earlier about Snape giving you Occlumency lessons last summer. I guess that makes sense; you'd have to be able to defend yourself from the Dark Lord's mental attacks."

"Not just that," Harry said slowly, reaching up to rub the scar on his forehead. "This formed a connection between me and Voldemort somehow. I was starting to see and hear his thoughts in my dreams. Dumbledore was afraid it might work both ways, that Voldemort might be able to use that connection to spy on my thoughts, so he had Snape teach me Occlumency so that I could shield my mind from him." 

He shuddered a little, remembering some of the dreams he'd had during that time. "I wasn't very good at it at first," he admitted, "so I kept dreaming about Voldemort all through fifth year. It was awful; I woke up screaming a few times myself, so you see, I would never make fun of Nott...of Theodore...for having nightmares."

"I see," said Dylan, nodding thoughtfully. "I suppose it's surprising that we don't all have more nightmares, considering everything that's happened."

They all nodded and quietly finished their milk, which was starting to go cold. They had just emptied their mugs when Hob reappeared, as if on cue. He gathered up their mugs and put them in the sink and said, "Mister Snape gave Theodore a potion to help him sleep, so perhaps the rest of you should get some sleep, too."

"Okay," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "Thanks for the milk, Hob." The other children added their thanks, then they all headed upstairs to bed.

*** 

While the other children were talking downstairs, Lupin tried to comfort Theodore as Snape hovered over them anxiously, feeling totally useless. He wasn't much good with problems that couldn't be solved with a spell or a detention.

"He said he'd protect me but he lied," Theodore gasped between sobs. "He got himself killed and left me all alone."

Lupin didn't need to ask who "he" was. "I'm sorry, Theodore," he murmured. "Rafe didn't mean to break his promise to you." He thought about what it must have been like for Theodore, living all those years in fear and despair, with no hope of things ever getting better, with no one to turn to for help. His eyes filled with tears and he held his son more tightly. "Severus and I won't leave you, Theo, I promise. You won't be alone anymore." The wolf inside him growled protectively. "We are a pack now, you and I and Severus and Dylan, and pack members always look out for each other."

Theodore eventually stopped trembling, but his fears were not as easily soothed as they had been the last time. He sipped the mug of hot milk and honey that Hob gave him, but his eyes were still shadowed and haunted.

"Did something happen to trigger your nightmare?" Lupin asked, a concerned look on his face.

"It's this house," Theodore muttered. "It reminds me of Nott Manor. I guess I was thinking about my old home, and it carried over into my dreams."

"I told you staying here was a bad idea," Snape said to Lupin waspishly, but he instantly regretted it when he saw the look of guilt on his lover's face.

"I'm so sorry, Theo," Lupin said remorsefully. "I never stopped to think that it might stir up old memories."

"It's okay, Professor," Theodore said, feeling guilty that he'd made Lupin feel bad. "I didn't realize that it would bother me that much, either."

"These old mansions are all alike," Snape muttered, giving Lupin an apologetic look. "Big and dark and drafty; I think they're deliberately designed to be intimidating and depressing. Snape Manor is much the same."

"I'm sorry I woke everyone up," Theodore said, flushing. It was bad enough to have Lupin, Snape, and Dylan see him like this--but he felt humiliated to know that the Gryffindors had seen him screaming and crying like a baby. He privately resolved to threaten to turn Potter and Weasley into slugs if they spread this around the school, but then again, the Gryffindors didn't seem to have much sense of self-preservation...he might have to think of something else.

"It's all right," Lupin said, giving him a hug. "What you've been through is enough to give anyone nightmares. Severus and I have certainly had more than our share of them ourselves!"

Theodore finished his milk and Lupin said, "Do you think you can manage to get some rest now?" Seeing the fearful look in the boy's eyes, he added, "Severus and I will stay with you until you fall asleep."

"I don't think I can fall asleep now," Theodore whispered. "I'm...I'm afraid I'll start dreaming about my father again."

Lupin felt a wave of pity and anger rush over him at the terrified look in the boy's eyes. He tenderly embraced his foster son, but he felt his lips pulling back from his teeth as the wolf snarled. He wanted to hurt everyone who had hurt Theodore: Voldemort, Thaddeus, Marta--even Rafe, who'd loved his nephew and had the best of intentions, but had gotten himself killed, leaving Theo unprotected and with a burden of guilt that would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. Unfortunately--or perhaps fortunately, depending upon how you looked at it--they were all dead and beyond reach of the wolf's vengeance.

"Severus, isn't there a potion or something you could give Theo to help him sleep?" Lupin asked. "Without dreaming," he hastily added when Theodore looked at him in alarm.

Snape frowned. "It isn't really healthy to rely on such potions; some of them are addictive, and they're all harmful if taken too often..."

"Please, Professor?" Theodore whispered. "Just this once?" A few hours of peaceful oblivion sounded very tempting to him right now.

"All right," Snape agreed, unable to resist the pleading look in his foster son's eyes. "But just this once." He paused to think, then said, "A Draught of Peace should do the trick, but I'll have to get some from my office. I'll take the Floo to Hogwarts; I should be back in a few minutes."

"Just please don't give me one that Potter or Weasley brewed," Theodore said, attempting to cover up his fear and lighten the mood.

Snape chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Mr. Nott. I'll bring back a bottle that I've personally brewed myself!"

Snape returned within a few minutes, as promised, and gave Theodore the Draught. It had an unpleasant, slightly acrid and bittersweet taste, thanks to the hellebore that was the main ingredient, but Theodore drank it down gratefully, and soon enough, felt his fears dissipate as a sense of peace came over him. He sighed with relief and let Lupin ease him back down on the bed and draw the covers up over him.

"You'll still stay with me, won't you, Remus, you and Professor Snape?" Theodore asked sleepily. "Until I fall asleep. You promised."

"Yes, Theo," Lupin said tenderly, and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "We'll stay with you." 

Snape felt oddly touched that Theodore had asked him to stay as well as Lupin, and he reached out and stroked Theodore's hair in a brief and rare gesture of affection. Just then, Dylan walked in.

"How's Theo?" he asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Theodore answered for himself before Snape or Lupin could reply. "The Professor gave me a Draught of Peace."

He smiled at Dylan, looking very peaceful indeed. "Good," Dylan said in relief. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He leaned down and whispered, "And don't worry about the Gryffindors; I made them promise to keep their mouths shut."

"Thanks," Theodore said, feeling very pleased that Dylan had anticipated his worries. Or maybe it was the potion that was making him feel almost euphoric, but he didn't really care. "You're a good brother." 

"I'm sure Harry and the others wouldn't gossip about this at school," Lupin said, frowning slightly.

"I just wanted to make sure of it," Dylan said in a placating tone.

Theodore was no longer worried about it, although this was due more to the Draught of Peace than Dylan's reassurances. He turned to Lupin and said in a sleepy, childish voice, "Will you tell me a story?" He yawned. "One about werewolves?"

Dylan blinked in surprise, and Lupin felt a little worried, but Severus didn't seem to be concerned, so he assumed that it was probably a side-effect of the potion. He relaxed and replied, "Of course."

"I want to hear the story, too," Dylan said eagerly, remembering the story Lupin had told his class about the possible origin of werewolves.

Lupin laughed, "All right, get into bed and I'll tell you both a story." 

Dylan climbed into bed, and to his surprise, Lupin tucked him in as if he were a little boy. On second thought, perhaps that wasn't so surprising; he remembered the way Lupin had tucked him into bed and stayed to watch over him the night Snape had brought him to Grimmauld Place to recover from the attack of the newly-awakened roses. He grinned, a little sheepishly, and waited for Lupin to begin his story.

Lupin pulled a chair up between the two beds, and tried to think of a story. His parents had not told him many stories about the shapeshifter clan he had supposedly descended from because they had regarded their heritage as a shameful secret, the reason they had been driven out of their home in France and had come to England hoping to start a new life. The few stories they had told him mostly had unhappy endings--not suitable bedtime stories for troubled children in need of comforting. But Lupin had studied everything he could find about werewolves, including legends and folktales, hoping to find a way to control the beast inside him. There were not a great many happy stories about werewolves, but he finally recalled one that he had read in a book of Japanese folktales that Professor Kamiyama had sent him. 

He settled back in his chair, cleared his throat, and said, "Once upon a time in Japan, there lived a young blacksmith. One day he had to go to the neighboring province on business, and on his way home, he had to cross through an isolated mountain pass that was frightening even in the daytime, and it was now the dark of night. There were thick clumps of trees where it seemed that any manner of beast or bandit might be hiding, and the young man hurried on his way, eager to be out of the pass, when suddenly he heard a strange growling noise. Beside the path stood a huge wolf, its mouth open, growling and whining. It knelt on its front legs and stretched its neck out towards the blacksmith, not in a threatening manner, but more as if it were begging for help. The blacksmith was tempted to run away, but the wolf gave him such an imploring look that he was filled with pity, and stepped forward to take a closer look. He saw that there was a bone stuck in its throat, and said, 'Here, I'll take it out for you.' He put his hand down the wolf's throat and pulled out a large bone. 'You should be more careful when you eat bones like these,' the blacksmith said, and the wolf yipped in relief and licked his hand, then ran off into the mountains. The blacksmith hurried on his way and reached his home safely, and thought no more of the incident.

"Several days later, a beautiful young woman came to his house and asked him to marry her. The blacksmith had no wife, and he was instantly smitten with the beautiful woman, so he eagerly agreed. His new wife, who called herself Kajigakaka or 'wife of a blacksmith,' was a very hard worker and helped her husband at the forge. They lived happily together, and she bore him many children. The children were all handsome and healthy, but the blacksmith was a bit puzzled by the fact that they all had thick hair on their chests, and one day his wife finally confided to him the story of her origin: she was the wolf whom he had helped on the mountain pass! He was quite astounded to hear this, and blessed the impulse that made him stop and help the wolf on that dark night. The blacksmith, Kajigakaka, and their hairy-chested children lived happily ever after, and to this day, children who have hair on their chests are called the offspring of Kajigakaka."

Lupin looked over at the boys, and saw that they were both fast asleep. Snape, who had been watching the proceedings with amusement said, "They were out like a light halfway through the story."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to finish it for them some other time, then," he said with a smile. He hesitated, not sure whether or not they should remain to watch over Theodore.

Snape seemed to read to his mind. "He'll be fine, Remus. The Draught of Peace should give him a good night's sleep."

"Using your Legilimency, Severus?" Lupin whispered as they left the room.

"I hardly need to resort to magic to read your mind, Lupin," Snape said with a derisive snort. "You Gryffindors are so transparent."

"And you know me so well," Lupin laughed, linking his arm through Snape's.

Snape let him do so without objection, since all the children were in bed and there was no one around to see it. "That I do," he agreed.

Lupin's expression suddenly turned sober. "You were right, Severus. I shouldn't have brought Theodore here. I didn't realize it would remind him of his home--"

"And why should you?" Snape interrupted, feeling guilty once again about his thoughtless remark that Lupin had clearly taken to heart. "Stop beating yourself up about it. You didn't grow up in one of these pureblood mansions, but I did, and I didn't realize it would have this much of an effect on the boy. If anyone's to blame, it's me."

"All right then," Lupin said, smiling a little although he still looked serious. "There's no point in passing the blame around now; what's done is done. The question is, what do we do about it now? The Draught of Peace will help him sleep tonight, but we can't give it to him every night; you said yourself that it's not healthy. Perhaps we should go back to the cottage...but then what do we do about the other children? I guess we could send Ron, Ginny, and Hermione home, but I promised Sirius and Branwen that I'd look after Harry..."

"I don't know, Lupin," Snape replied wearily. "We'll deal with it in the morning; I'm too tired to think right now." Then he added in his usual irritable voice, "Besides, it won't kill the golden boy to sleep on the couch for a couple of weeks."

Lupin just laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "By the way, Sev, if Theodore's nightmares persist, you do realize that we can't use a silence spell on our room anymore." Snape stared at him blankly. "The spell works both ways," Lupin patiently explained. "If the children can't hear us, we also can't hear them if, for example, someone cries out for help..."

"We can't have sex until Nott's cured of his nightmares?!" Snape exclaimed, looking aghast at the thought.

Lupin laughed at his expression. "No, it just means that we'll have to have sex quietly," he replied.

Snape gave his lover a dubious look. "I can manage, but you have no self-control, Lupin, what with all that howling."

"Oh?" Lupin said with an impish grin. "And who was it that was shouting, 'Remy, Remy, howl for me!' in the middle of our lovemaking?"

Snape's face turned red. "I didn't say that I was quiet all the time," he said in a tone of offended dignity. "Just that I could be if I wanted to."

Lupin believed it; Severus had an amazing amount of self-control--which Lupin didn't mind, but he loved the fact that he could make Severus lose control in bed, not so much for the physical pleasure of the act (although it was very enjoyable), but because it meant that Severus trusted him enough to let down his guard as he did with no one else. "I can be quiet, too," he protested.

"Not likely," Snape snorted, and to prove it, he leaned down to nip Lupin on the neck, and the werewolf yelped, then growled hungrily. "I rest my case," Snape said smugly.

"No fair," Lupin complained. "You caught me off-guard!"

"Maybe I can figure out a way to adjust the spell," Snape muttered to himself, ignoring Lupin. "So that it lets sound into the room without letting sound go out of the room..."

"Well, you had better figure something out," Lupin said with a grin, "because the wolf doesn't handle celibacy well." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You know, Severus, in a way, maybe Theodore's nightmare is a positive sign..."

"How do you figure that, Lupin?"

"It's clear that these nightmares are a regular occurrence," Lupin said. "But we've never heard him scream before, and no one's ever reported being woken up by him shouting or screaming in the Slytherin dorm, right?" 

Snape nodded. "But how is this a good sign? Doesn't it mean that things are getting worse rather than better?"

"No," Lupin said. "I think it's exactly the opposite. He has enough self-control to remain quiet even in the midst of these terrible nightmares." Lupin found that thought extremely disturbing; it spoke volumes about Theodore's childhood and upbringing. "I only heard him that night in the cottage because my hearing is better than a normal human's. If he's letting go of his self-control, it means that he's finally beginning to really trust us."

Snape thought about it; after a few moments he said, "That's rather convoluted reasoning, Lupin, but I think you're right." He himself had trouble letting his guard down with anyone but Lupin, which was what helped convinced him that the werewolf was right.

"There will no doubt be more bad dreams and sleepless nights," Lupin said, looking happier and more confident, "but I would be more worried if he were still trying to repress his emotions. You were right, Severus, when you said that the boys would deal with their feelings when they were ready." Dylan had been showing signs of grieving for his parents, which Lupin thought was healthy. "It won't be easy, but we'll all get through it together."

"I'll trust your judgment, Lupin," Snape said, then yawned as they entered their own bedroom. "We'll figure everything out in the morning."

"How tired are you, Severus?" Lupin whispered into his ear, growling softly. 

"Not that tired," Snape said with a grin. "In fact, I feel a second wind coming on."

"Good, because it's your fault for arousing the wolf," Lupin said, slipping his arms around Snape.

"But I haven't had time to adjust the silence spell yet," Snape pointed out.

"Well, then, we'll find out if I can be quiet or not," Lupin said. "Besides, you said that Theodore would sleep through the night."

As it turned out, Lupin failed miserably, but it didn't really matter, because the children were exhausted enough to sleep through it all with or without a silence spell.

*** 

Theodore felt well-rested and refreshed when he woke up in the morning, thanks to the several hours of peaceful slumber the Draught had given him, but he immediately felt embarrassed when he recalled how he had woken everyone last night with his screams.

Dylan had just woken up as well. He yawned, stretched, and said, "Good morning, Theo. Feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks, Theodore mumbled, wondering how he was going to face the Gryffindors this morning. Then he noticed that there was a bruise on Dylan's cheek that hadn't been there yesterday. "Um...did I do that?" he asked, tapping his cheek.

"Yeah, kind of," Dylan said apologetically, although Theodore didn't quite understand why; after all, he ought to be the one apologizing for hitting Dylan.

"I'm sorry," Theodore said. 

"It's no big deal," Dylan said lightly. "I've been hurt worse in Quidditch practice! Sorry I startled you last night."

"Sorry," Theodore repeated, flushing. "I almost hexed Blaise once before I realized it was him when he tried to wake me too suddenly. I should've warned you about my nightmares, but I thought they had stopped."

"Don't feel bad, Theo," Dylan said, trying to comfort his foster brother. "We all have nightmares sometimes. Surely we're entitled to, after fighting the Death Eaters!"

"Yeah, but none of you woke everyone up with your screaming," Theodore said sullenly. "I suppose the Gryffindors thought it was funny, a Death Eater having bad dreams..."

"No, they didn't," Dylan said, shaking his head. "For one thing, you were never a Death Eater, and for another, they were more shaken up than anything else. Potter said he used to wake up screaming after dreaming about the Dark Lord--"

"I don't need a Gryffindor to feel sorry for me!" Theodore snapped.

Before Dylan could reply, there was a knock at the door. "Can we come in?" Lupin's voice called out.

Dylan glanced at Theodore, who shrugged. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now, but what was he supposed to do, say no? He didn't want to be rude to Lupin, and besides, it would probably only make the werewolf more worried. When Theo didn't raise any objections, Dylan said, "Sure, come on in."

Lupin and Snape walked in, and Lupin came over and sat at the foot of Theodore's bed. "How are you feeling, Theo?" he asked kindly.

"Much better, thank you," Theodore replied, flushing. "The Draught of Peace really helped. Um...I'm sorry about disturbing everyone last night."

"I told you not to worry about it, Theo," Lupin said firmly, placing his hand over Theodore's for a moment. "As I said, we've all had our share of nightmares. I'm sorry that the house brought back some unpleasant memories for you."

"It's not your fault, Professor," Theodore said, looking even more embarrassed.

"You don't have to stay here if it bothers you that much," Lupin continued. "Would you like to return home to the cottage?"

Theodore's first impulse was to shout, "Yes!" There was nothing he wanted more than to return to the cottage and to not have to share his family with the Gryffindors. But he sensed that Lupin didn't really want to leave, although he showed no sign of it; there was no reluctance or resentment on his face, only love and concern. And Dylan probably didn't want to leave either. "But what about the Gryffindors?" he asked hesitantly. "Aren't you supposed to be looking after them?"

"Ginny, Ron, and Hermione will be disappointed if they have to go home early," Lupin replied, "but it won't harm them, and I'm sure they'll understand. We can't leave Harry here alone, though. He would either have to come with us to the cottage or stay with the Weasleys. We need to decide what to do; that's why I wanted the four of us to discuss this together before I go talk to Harry and the others."

"What about you, Dylan?" Theodore asked. "You were looking forward to spending time with Granger, weren't you?"

"Yes, but I can see Hermione in school," he replied immediately. "We can go home if you want; I really don't mind. You're my brother, and family comes before anything else."

Theodore blinked back tears at the sincerity in Dylan's voice. They meant it, both Dylan and Lupin; they were willing to put him before Potter and Granger. He felt almost dizzy with happiness and relief, but one last thing stopped him from saying that he wanted to go home: he couldn't stand to appear as a coward in front of the Gryffindors. "They'll think I'm a coward," he said, flushing again. "They'll think I'm running away. How will it look to the Gryffindors--a Slytherin running away because of a bad dream?"

"I'm sure they wouldn't think that, Theo," Lupin said gently.

"They promised not to tell anyone," Dylan reminded him.

"Even if they keep their mouths shut, they'll still know what a coward I am," Theodore said, beginning to sound distressed, the peace the Draught had given him rapidly slipping away.

"You're not a coward, Theo," Lupin said quietly. "No one will think badly of you if you want to go home."

Theodore wrestled with his fear and his pride for several long moments; eventually pride won out. "I'll stay. I'll be all right."

"Are you sure?" Lupin asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," Theodore said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. "I promise I won't disturb anyone again; I'll put a silence spell up on my room, and Dylan can move into another room if he wants--"

"That's not what I'm worried about!" Lupin interrupted, looking very upset. "I'm not worried about losing a little sleep, I'm worried about you!" He reached out and cradled Theodore's face between his hands. "I love you, Theo, and I don't want you to stay in a place where you'll be unhappy or frightened. If we do stay, you must promise me that you won't block us out with a silence spell. A family is supposed to support one another, remember? You're not alone anymore, Theo; we want to be there for you when you need us."

"I promise, Remus," Theodore said in a shaky voice, and Lupin hugged him tightly. When Lupin released him, Theodore looked up and was surprised to see Snape nod at him approvingly. He knew that the Potions Master had not wanted to come to the Black mansion and baby-sit Potter in the first place, so he would have thought that Snape would prefer that they return to the cottage.

"It takes courage to face your fears rather than run from them," Snape said gruffly, and patted Theodore on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Nott."

*** 

Theodore was filled with shock and pride and joy at that rare bit of praise from his foster father, and although he was apprehensive about remaining in the mansion, he was suddenly very glad that he had decided to stay. Lupin grinned and hugged him again, then got up and hugged Dylan and then Snape.

"Enough, Lupin!" Snape snapped. "You don't have to go all maudlin on me!"

"You don't fool me, you old softie," Lupin laughed, refusing to release his hold on the Potions Master, and fondly kissed him on the cheek.

"LUPIN!" Snape bellowed.

Theodore and Dylan couldn't help but laugh as they watched Snape struggle with the werewolf. Finally Snape managed to disentangle himself, then straightened his robes and said to the boys curtly, "Get dressed and join us in the kitchen for breakfast."

"Yes, sir," they said obediently, and Snape stomped out of the room, with Lupin happily tagging along behind. A few seconds later they heard Snape yell, "Damn it, Lupin, cut that out!" The boys grinned at each other, then got out of bed to get dressed.

Downstairs in the kitchen, they found that Hob had laid out a veritable feast on the table: eggs, toast, bacon, sausages, and pancakes, not to mention an assortment of jam, marmalade, butter, and syrup for the toast and pancakes, as well as pitchers of orange juice and milk and a heated kettle of tea on the stove.

"This looks like enough to feed an army," Dylan said, looking a little stunned. 

Lupin smiled and whispered to his sons, "A hob's idea of comfort usually involves food."

Theodore flushed, but picked up a plate and joined the others at the table; the Gryffindors were already heaping their own plates with food. They all muttered polite good-mornings, then made slightly stilted small talk with each other; they were all obviously trying--a little too hard--to pretend that everything was normal and that nothing had happened last night. 

All except for Hermione, who smiled at Theodore and said, "Good morning; I hope you slept well last night." Ron kicked her under the table and she exclaimed, "Ow! What was that for?"

"We aren't supposed to talk about it, remember?" Ron hissed. 

"We said we wouldn't talk about it with anyone else and I'm not," Hermione said impatiently. "There are no outsiders here and besides, I'm just asking him how he slept."

Ron didn't much like Nott, but he knew how uncomfortable he would be in the other boy's shoes and said in a hushed tone, "Can't you see he doesn't want to talk about it?"

Unfortunately, it was still loud enough for everyone else to overhear. "Would you two stop talking about me as if I weren't here?" Theodore snapped, his face turning red again.

"I'm sorry, Theodore," Hermione immediately apologized. "I just wanted to know if you were feeling better."

"I'm fine," he snapped. "And what do you care, anyway? Ow!" Theodore glared at Dylan, who had just kicked him in the shin beneath the table.

"Of course I care," Hermione said, looking puzzled and a little hurt. "You're my classmate and Dylan's friend, and the Professors' foster son."

"The Gryffindors and Slytherins don't have to be enemies anymore, Theo," Lupin added gently.

"I know," Theodore mumbled, staring down at his plate. "Sorry."

"And anyway, having a nightmare is nothing to be ashamed of," Hermione continued earnestly.

"Hermione, can't you leave well enough alone?" Ron whispered to his friend, even as he wondered why he was bothering to defend the Slytherin boy. But he couldn't stop thinking about how mortified he'd be if he were in Nott's place and the object of Hermione's well-meaning sympathy.

"I'm sure we've all had nightmares about Voldemort and the Death Eaters," Hermione continued, ignoring him. "Harry has and I have and--"

"You've had nightmares about the Death Eaters?" Ron interrupted, his eyes going wide.

"Of course," she said, giving him an impatient look, as if he had just asked if the sky was blue or the earth was round. "Haven't you?"

"Well...um..." Ron mumbled. He did occasionally see Voldemort's glowing red eyes and skeletal face in his dreams; sometimes in his dreams he would see Voldemort kill Harry, and he would wake up in a cold sweat, although he had not yet woken up screaming as Nott had. But he was a little loathe to admit it.

"Sometimes I dream about You-Know...about Voldemort," Ginny whispered. "About when he controlled me through Tom Riddle's diary." 

Her brother and friends stared at her in surprise and concern; of course she had been shaken up after being rescued from the Chamber of Secrets by Harry, but she had seemed to have recovered completely since then. In fact, it had often seemed to Ron that her ordeal had made her stronger, or maybe it was just the normal process of growing up, but somehow she had changed from his timid and shy little sister into an independent, outspoken, and sometimes stubborn young woman. 

"I don't remember much about that time," she continued. "It's all a bit hazy, like a dream. Maybe that's why it seems clearer to me in my dreams. I can feel him in my mind, telling me to open the Chamber. After I wake up, it takes me a minute or two to realize that he isn't really in my head."

"I didn't know, Gin," Ron said, sounding shaken. "I never heard you scream or cry out in your sleep."

"It's not for lack of trying," Ginny said in a light, joking tone although her eyes were still solemn. "In my dreams I try to scream for help, but I can't, because Voldemort is controlling my body." She turned to Theodore. "That's why I would never make fun of you for having a nightmare. None of us would."

Theodore was struck speechless. He hadn't known the full story behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, although he knew from listening in on his father's conversations that Lucius Malfoy had been furious that Potter had defeated the Basilisk, and even more furious that Potter had freed the house-elf Dobby from the Malfoys' service. He knew that Potter had rescued Ginny Weasley from the Chamber, but he hadn't known that she had been the one to open it, and he couldn't imagine how horrible it must have been to have had Voldemort inside her head. Just viewing him from a distance had been enough to fill Theodore with terror--and that was before his father had attempted to hand him over to the Dark Lord as a sacrifice.

"Well, your nightmare trumps mine," he finally said, although his attempt at humor fell flat.

"No one survives a war without picking up a few scars along the way," Lupin said quietly. Harry unconsciously reached up to touch the scar on his forehead, and Lupin smiled a little. "Some visible, some not. But we have survived, which is a victory in itself, and scars are a sign of healing."

The children finished their breakfast in silence, but Theodore seemed less self-conscious, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin boys regarded each other with more curiosity and less hostility, which made Lupin smile. They were all subdued for the rest of the day, and were content to study, read, and play quiet chess or card games for the rest of the day. Even Ron paid attention during Lupin's Japanese lesson, and didn't utter any complaints when Snape gave them some practice exam sheets to work on. And Snape didn't make any cutting remarks to the Gryffindors or hover over them menacingly the way he usually did in class, but simply left them alone to work in peace.

When the children were ready to go to bed, Lupin went to Dylan's and Theodore's room to say goodnight, with Snape trailing after him.

"You don't have to," Theodore protested, blushing a little as Lupin tucked him into bed. Surely at seventeen he was too old to be tucked into bed, although secretly he enjoyed it. "I mean, I'm okay now, really."

"I know I don't have to," Lupin said cheerfully, "but I want to." Dylan let Lupin tuck him in without protest, although he grinned a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, indulge the werewolf in his little eccentricities, Theodore," Snape said in his usual sarcastic voice. "You know how sentimental Gryffindors can get."

Snape gave Lupin a look of contempt that didn't seem quite genuine, and there was a small smile playing around the corners of his lips. Theodore suddenly understood that the Potions Master was giving him an out, a way to save face. Of course Snape would understand that very Slytherin need to salvage one's pride, even if all the participants involved knew it was a charade. Slytherins had no problem with ignoring reality in favor of their own mutually-agreed upon version of it.

"Oh well," Theodore said casually, "if that's what the Professor wants..."

Lupin grinned and winked at him. "It's Remus, remember?" he said, ruffling Theo's hair fondly. "I never dreamed I'd have a family to lavish my Gryffindor sentimentality upon, so forgive me if I get a little carried away at times."

Theodore found it difficult to speak around the lump that seemed to have formed in his throat. "Of course, Prof...Remus," he said hoarsely. "Be as sentimental as you like."

Lupin smiled down at him tenderly, and Dylan said, "Hey, you never finished that story last night!"

"You fell asleep halfway through it!" Lupin laughed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Um..." Dylan thought for a moment. "The blacksmith was reaching into the wolf's throat to pull out the bone. He did pull it out, right, and the wolf must have rewarded him for his kindness? That's the way these fairy tales usually work."

"If it were a Slytherin fairy tale," Theodore said, with a hint of dry humor, "the wolf would bite off the blacksmith's hand, and the moral of the story would be not to stick your hand down a wolf's throat."

Lupin chuckled. "Well, fortunately for the blacksmith, this story wasn't written by a Slytherin. And he was rewarded, in a manner of speaking. Would you like to hear the rest of the story?"

"Yes!" the boys chorused, and Lupin finished the story, recounting how the wolf became the blacksmith's bride. They stayed awake this time, although they were starting to yawn by the time it was over. 

Lupin turned out the lights and said, "Goodnight boys; sleep well." Before leaving, he placed his hand on Theodore's shoulder and bent down to whisper, "Do you want us to stay with you till you fall asleep?"

He did, but he was too embarrassed to admit it. "No, it's okay," Theo said, and comforted himself with the fact that they would be nearby and had responded to his screams last night with considerable promptness.

"Goodnight, then," Lupin said. "We'll be right down the hall if you need anything, and don't worry about waking us, okay?"

"Okay."

Alone in their own room, Lupin kissed Snape as they began to undress for bed. Snape started to kiss him back, but then suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin smiled and batted his eyelashes at Snape playfully. "Don't you find me attractive anymore?"

"You know I do," said Snape, running his fingers through Lupin's long hair. "But if Theodore wakes up in the middle of the night needing comforting, it might be better if we aren't, ah, caught in flagrante delicto, so to speak."

Lupin said with a rueful grin, "When we adopted two teenagers, I thought we'd be spared all the late night interruptions of 'I had a bad dream' or 'I want a glass of water, Daddy'." 

Snape just stared at him blankly. "Is that what Gryffindor children do?" he asked.

"I thought that was what all young children did," Lupin replied, although on second thought, he couldn't really picture Selima Snape comforting her son after a bad dream.

"I would never have woken up my parents for something as trivial as a bad dream or a glass of water," Snape told him. "That would be like asking to be hit with a Cruciatus Curse."

Lupin shuddered, remembering how Severus had said that his father had punished him with a Cruciatus Curse for such childish offenses as crying over a broken toy or spilling a potion in his father's workshop. "I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said softly. "Sometimes I forget how different your childhood was from mine."

"It's all right, Remus," Snape said, kissing him lightly. "It's just as well that one of us had something resembling a normal childhood."

Lupin smiled sadly. "Your childhood must have been pretty bad, if you can say that mine was more normal, considering that I'm a werewolf."

Snape shrugged, feeling uncomfortable; he didn't like being pitied, not even by Lupin. He attempted to make light of it, saying in his usual sarcastic tone of voice, "You've already met my mother, Lupin. The other pureblood women used to call her the Ice Queen behind her back, but compared to my father, she's as congenial as Molly Weasley." Lupin was still giving him that concerned look, so Snape laughed, but it came out sounding rather harsh and bitter. "What's sad is that a werewolf and a former Death Eater--who just happens to be the most-hated teacher at Hogwarts--have proven to be better parents to Theodore than his biological parents were."

"Labels are misleading, Severus," Lupin said, clasping Snape's hands between his own. "As you should know." He smiled again, more sincerely this time. "I'm glad that we have a chance to do right by Theodore, and heal some of the damage his parents did to him." 

Snape just grunted, which meant that he agreed but wouldn't say so out loud for fear of appearing too sentimental, and Lupin grinned. They finished undressing, but instead of climbing into bed nude as they usually did (because most of their time in bed was NOT spent sleeping), Snape donned a long, gray nightshirt, and Lupin a set of pajamas that caused Snape to stare at him in disbelief.

"What's the matter, Sev, don't you like my jammies?" Lupin laughed. He was wearing red flannel pajamas decorated with a design of cuddly, cartoonish yellow lions.

Snape curled his lip in distaste. "Where on earth did you get those, Lupin?"

"They were a birthday present from Albus," Lupin said cheerfully. 

"It figures," Snape muttered to himself in disgust. He supposed he should just be glad that the old man had not given him green pajamas with a cartoonish snake design. Then again, maybe Dumbledore had been unable to find any--it was difficult to make a snake look cuddly, for which Snape was profoundly grateful.

"Oh, like this is the height of fashion!" Lupin retorted, plucking at Snape's nightshirt. "This looks like something my grandmother would wear!"

"Excuse me?" Snape said indignantly.

"We've got to get you something sexier," Lupin continued, running his hands across Snape's chest. "Black silk pajamas, perhaps."

"They're only going to come right off again," Snape objected.

"But it would help to put me in the mood," Lupin said, still running his hands up and down Snape's chest.

He had a point, Snape had to admit. "Well, as long as they're black," he said grudgingly. "Although you hardly seem to need any help getting in the mood." Their lips met in a long and deep kiss, tongues entwining, until Snape reluctantly pulled away. "We did just agree that it would be better not to start something that might be interrupted," he said, a little breathlessly.

"You're right," Lupin sighed. "Although you were the one who was horrified at the prospect of not having sex until Theodore overcomes his nightmares."

"I'm not talking about an extended period of celibacy, Lupin," Snape said with a wry little smile. "Theodore will likely have nightmares off and on for the rest of his life, but hopefully they'll become less frequent and less intense. I just want to see whether he'll sleep through the night tonight or not. It'll help us judge what to expect in the future and whether we should go back to the cottage or not." He was pleased that Theodore had decided to stay rather than run from his fears, but he was still willing to overrule the boy's decision if it proved too traumatic. "I have some more Draught of Peace on hand in case he should need it, although I don't want him to become dependent on it."

Lupin smiled warmly at his lover, thinking to himself with amusement that Severus needed no help from a softhearted Gryffindor werewolf in ruining his image as the heartless, cold-blooded Potions Master. As much as he tried to hide it, his concern and compassion kept showing through that mask.

"And what are you smirking at, Lupin?" Snape snapped.

"Nothing, Sev," Lupin replied sweetly.

So they lay in bed in each other's arms, simply holding each other, although Lupin would have liked to have done more. He suspected Severus felt the same way, although the Potions Master proclaimed, "All I have to do to kill my libido is look at those ridiculous 'jammies' of yours."

Lupin snickered, "Like that grandma gown of yours is any sexier!"

"I wasn't trying to be sexy," Snape retorted. "That would defeat the whole point, remember? And it's a nightshirt, not a 'grandma gown'!"

Lupin just laughed and snuggled a little closer, laying his head on Snape's chest. Snape growled irritably, but stroked Lupin's hair in a slow, rhythmic fashion that the wolf found extremely soothing--rather liked being scratched behind the ears. The wolf also liked the way that Snape growled, sounding almost like a wolf himself at times; maybe that was why Lupin enjoyed teasing him so much. Lupin sighed happily and let out a contented little growl of his own.

Meanwhile, Theodore lay awake listening enviously to Dylan's slow, even breathing as he slept peacefully. Theodore was tired, and the house was not quite as intimidating as it had been last night, so he eventually fell asleep. But although he was not tormented by nightmares this time, he slept lightly and restlessly, subconsciously remaining on guard even in his sleep, not quite able to relax.

So when Lupin quietly crept into the room to check on him in the middle of the night, Theo stirred and said sleepily, "Remus?"

"Sorry, Theo," Lupin whispered apologetically. "I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay."

Theodore looked up into Lupin's concerned eyes, and then over at Snape, who was leaning in the doorway, and smiled. "I am now," he said, and meant it.

"Good," Lupin said, sounding reassured. He gently stroked Theodore's cheek and said, "Try and get some sleep, now."

"Yessir," Theo said, slurring the words together as he yawned. His eyelids closed, suddenly too heavy for him to keep open. He heard soft footsteps as Lupin left the room, and then the sound of the door closing, and then nothing more, because he was deeply and soundly asleep.

*** 

Lupin continued to check in on Theodore over the next few nights, but simply knowing that his foster parents were watching over him seemed to give Theo enough confidence to sleep through night without interruption. One night, he did start to dream about his father and the final battle again, but this time when Thaddeus tried to drag Theodore over to Voldemort, a large brown wolf appeared and drove him away. So when Lupin looked in on him a little later, he found his foster son smiling in his sleep.

Life returned more-or-less to normal, and Lupin and Snape resumed their bedroom activities, although Snape continued to work on the silence spell until he successfully modified it to allow them to hear outside noises while still keeping sound from escaping the room. There was less arguing between the boys, although Theo and Ron continued to snipe at each other in a halfhearted manner, more for the sake of appearances than anything else.

Although things were going well, Lupin still thought it might be good for Theodore--and the rest of the kids, for that matter--to get out of the house more often. Harry no longer had to hide from Voldemort, so there was no reason for them to be cooped up all day. So he took them on excursions to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and one afternoon they returned to the cottage for some Quidditch practice.

Since there were three Gryffindor players (Ron, Ginny, and Harry) and only two Slytherins, Theo and Dylan invited Draco over to even the odds. Hermione didn't play Quidditch herself, so Ginny declared that she should referee. No one, not even the Slytherins, objected, although Draco looked a bit grumpy; they all knew that she would be fair and impartial--she never hesitated to berate her own housemates and best friends when they did something stupid--and no one could deny that she had pretty much memorized every book she had ever read, including the Quidditch rules manual. Meanwhile, Lupin declared that he and Snape needed to "catch up on a few things around the house" and promptly locked themselves up in their bedroom.

The branches of two of the tallest trees in the woods were designated as the goals, and they used a borrowed Snitch and Theodore's secondhand Quaffle from the junk shop (which he had successfully re-enchanted). The impromptu game was declared a draw by Hermione; both sides scored an equal amount of goals, and no one caught the Snitch: Harry and Draco both crashed into a tree when the Snitch dived into its branches. Ginny, Dylan, and Theo laughed when they saw their team captains dangling from the tree branches, which their robes had gotten snagged on, while the Snitch sat on a branch right above them, fluttering its wings in an almost mocking fashion. Ron valiantly tried to look sympathetic for Harry's sake, but he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Hermione was the only one who looked genuinely concerned as she called out, "Are you two all right?"

Harry was less worried about himself than he was about his broom. "Is my Firebolt okay?" he shouted anxiously.

Ron retrieved the broomstick from the lower branches where it had gotten stuck and examined it. "It's fine, Harry," he called out reassuringly. "A few twigs broken, no big deal."

"It's not funny!" Draco yelled at his teammates, who were still laughing. "Get me down from here!" He impatiently jerked at his robe, trying to rip it free from the branch it was caught on.

Dylan suddenly stopped laughing and shouted, "No, Draco, don't do that!"

He was too late; Draco's robe--which was the only thing securing him to the branch--tore free and he shrieked as he plummeted towards the ground. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione shouted, pointing her wand at him, and Draco stopped in mid-air, then slowly floated down to earth.

The other children clustered around him, looking concerned, even the Gryffindors. "Are you okay, Draco?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah, fine," Draco replied, his pale face flushing as he brushed some leaves off his robe. How humiliating, to have to be rescued by a Mudblood girl, and a Gryffindor at that! Dylan pointedly cleared his throat, and Draco scowled but muttered a grudging, "Thanks." 

To his surprise, Granger didn't look smug, just relieved. "You're welcome, Draco. I'm just glad you're okay."

"Um...hello?" Harry called down to his friends. "It's nice that you're all so concerned about Malfoy, but don't forget that I'm still stuck up here!"

Draco laughed, in a surprisingly good-natured fashion. "Well, Potter, we figured the wizard who defeated the Dark Lord could manage to get himself out of a tree without any help!"

Theodore grinned wickedly. "We could always call Professor Snape for help."

"No, no!" Harry shouted in alarm. "Don't call Snape!" He could just picture the look on the Potions Master's face--he would never be able to live it down! He could almost hear Snape's scornfully amused voice saying, "You seem to have an affinity for crashing into trees, Potter."

Dylan laughed, "I don't think it would be a good idea to bother Professor Snape right now! He and Remus are probably...um...a little busy right now, and I don't think they'd want to be interrupted."

Harry's face turned bright red and the girls giggled and blushed. Even Malfoy and Nott blushed a little, and Ron groaned, "Please, I'd rather not think about that!"

"Don't interrupt Snape, but get me down from here!"

So the others flew up to help him; Dylan and Ginny managed to get Harry untangled and ease him onto Ron's broomstick, and Theo retrieved Draco's broomstick, which hadn't suffered any damage. 

"Don't forget the Snitch," Hermione reminded them. "Professor Lupin has to return it to Hogwarts." Dylan grinned and retrieved the Snitch, which meekly allowed him to pick it up and stow it back in its case.

Harry flopped down on the grass and said, "I'm so glad there aren't any trees on the real Quidditch Pitch! A real game will seem like child's play next to this so-called practice match!"

"Nobody told you to fly into a tree," Hermione said dryly. "Why didn't you pull up when you saw the Snitch was heading towards the tree?"

"And let the Slytherins win?" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"And you, Draco," Hermione continued. "I thought you might have had more common sense!"

Draco had been examining his torn robe with a disgruntled look on his face, but looked up and smiled sheepishly. "But I couldn't let Potter catch the Snitch!" he protested. "He has unholy good luck; if I'd backed off, he would have caught it for sure!"

"The only thing either of you caught were some leaves and splinters!" Hermione pointed out, getting a little angry now that she realized they could have been seriously hurt. "You're lucky you didn't crack your skulls open--although I suppose both of your heads are so thick that it would be almost impossible!" 

From behind them they heard the sound of someone bursting into laughter, and the children turned around to see Lupin walking up to them. "I'm afraid that Gryffindors and Slytherins have no common sense when it comes to Quidditch, Hermione," he said. "Or rather, they have no common sense when they're competing against each other." He turned to Harry and asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time that your father and Severus once insisted on completing a practice match in the middle of a rainstorm when everyone else had left the Pitch?"

Harry started to shake his head, then remembered that Sirius had mentioned something about it once, when he had told his godfather about the glimpse he seen in Snape's memories during his Occlumency lessons, of a young Snape lying in the mud and a young Lupin offering him a hand up. "Er...no, but I think Sirius told me a little about that," he said.

"I haven't heard that story!" Dylan said eagerly. "Will you tell us about it?" The other children looked equally curious.

"Well, it was the spring of second year," Lupin said. "A particularly wet and rainy spring. There was some sort of mix-up with the practice schedule, and both Gryffindor and Slytherin were signed up to use the Pitch at the same time. Neither team was willing to concede the field to the other, so they decided to have an impromptu match to determine who would leave. But it started raining, and pretty soon it was pouring so hard that the field turned to mud and you could barely see your hand in front of your face. All the players came down and took cover--all except for James and Severus." He sighed and shook his head at the memory. "Those two idiots could have easily fallen off their brooms and broken their necks, but they were determined to risk life and limb for the honor of their Houses." He sighed again. "Or more likely, they knew that if one of them backed down, the other would hold it over him until graduation day; they couldn't stand each other, even back then." Lupin smiled wryly. "They were much like Harry and Draco used to be, actually."

The two boys flushed. "Used to be?" Draco muttered.

Lupin grinned at him. "Forgive me, Draco. I didn't mean to imply that you regarded the Gryffindors with anything less than complete and utter loathing."

Draco stared at him, not sure whether to be annoyed, embarrassed, or amused. How on earth did the werewolf manage to say something so sarcastic in such a cheerful, chipper tone?

"Can we get on with the story, please, Professor?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Let's see, where was I? Oh yes, those two idiots refused to come out of the rain. Then the Snitch appeared and they both went after it--which by the way, is totally against the rules, since they were both Chasers, not Seekers, but at that point it didn't really have anything to do with the game, I suppose. Severus bumped into James--on purpose, James and Sirius claimed, although Severus of course denied it--but in any case, James's broom spun out of control and knocked Severus off his broom. Fortunately for him, he landed in a nice soft puddle of mud--which was a great blow to his ego, I'm sure, but at least he didn't break any bones."

"But who caught the Snitch?" Ron wanted to know, practically bouncing up and down with anticipation. "It was Harry's dad, right?"

"You're missing the point," Lupin chided gently, but all the other children, except for Hermione, looked just as eager to hear the end of the story. He laughed and said, "Ah well, you can't change human nature, I suppose! Yes, James caught the Snitch." 

Ron said, "I knew it!" and the Slytherins looked disappointed.

"But Severus did find a way to save face," Lupin continued. "I went over to offer him a hand up, and he pulled me down into the mud with him. His teammates all thought it was quite funny."

"What?!" Ron cried out indignantly. "That slimy git!"

"But Ron," Lupin laughed, not looking at all angry, "it was the start of a beautiful friendship!" The girls giggled, Dylan grinned, Theo looked nonplussed, and Draco, Harry, and Ron stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. 

"But...but...I don't get it," Ron said, looking bewildered. "How could you like him if he was mean to you?" The girls giggled again, looking very smug and superior, and he glared at them.

"Well, after getting soaked in that downpour I had to go take a bath anyway," Lupin replied cheerfully. "Besides, I didn't mind, because I knew that Severus's teammates would have given him a hard time if he accepted help from a Gryffindor. And for just a moment, just before he took my hand and pulled me down in the mud, he looked grateful."

Lupin smiled nostalgically, and the girls sighed. "Oh, that's so romantic, Professor!" Ginny said, and now Ron, Harry, and Draco were regarding the girls as if they were crazy. Theo just muttered, "Women!" under his breath in a disgusted tone.

"Shall we go in and have some butterbeer?" Lupin suggested. "I'm sure you must be tired after that strenuous workout," he added, winking at the boys.

So they trooped into the house, and Snape looked at Harry's and Draco's torn robes with first alarm, and then suspicion. "Have you two been fighting?" he asked in his menacing Potions Master voice.

"No, Severus," Lupin answered for them. "At least, not with each other. They seem to have had a run-in with a tree, and I'm afraid that the tree won." Harry and Draco flushed with embarrassment as their companions choked back laughter; privately, they both thought that they would much rather be punished for fighting.

"I...see," Snape said slowly. His lips twitched slightly, and he seemed to be fighting back a smile himself. "Perhaps next term you can teach your students how to defend themselves against a tree, Lupin." The other children burst into outright laughter, unable to suppress it any longer. Snape just raised an eyebrow and regarded them coolly. "And also a mending spell," he added, glancing back at Harry's and Draco's torn robes. Hermione opened her mouth, and Snape said sarcastically, "Never mind; I'm sure Miss Granger already knows one, as she seems to know everything else."

"Not everything, Professor," Hermione said, smiling at him, not seeming to be offended or intimidated at all; Snape scowled at her. "But I'm learning more all the time," she continued, glancing at Lupin, and she and Ginny giggled.

Snape narrowed his eyes and gave Lupin a suspicious look; the werewolf just smiled back at him innocently. That look might fool many people, but it didn't fool Snape; the werewolf had been up to mischief, and he wondered what Lupin had told the children--something to further ruin his reputation, no doubt. Then Snape looked at the giggling girls and decided that he would probably rather not know; it was less humiliating that way.

Lupin headed to the kitchen, saying, "Come on, Severus, let's fix the children a snack," and Snape heaved a sigh of resignation and followed.

*** 

One evening Harry found himself with nothing to do, and wandered around the house feeling restless and bored. Ginny and Ron had gone out with their family to have dinner with the Clearwaters, a sort of getting-to-know-each-other dinner to prepare for Percy's and Penelope's wedding. Hermione and Dylan were talking quietly together in the library; Dylan was showing Hermione some photos of his parents, and it seemed to be a rather personal and private conversation, so Harry hadn't wanted to interrupt, and left without the pair even noticing he was there. Theodore and Snape were playing chess in the drawing room, and he didn't want to interrupt them, either--besides, hanging out with Snape was not exactly Harry's idea of a good time. He went upstairs and noticed that Lupin's bedroom door was open, and peered inside.

Lupin was sitting at his desk writing in a notebook, but he set aside his quill and looked up at Harry with a smile. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, Professor," Harry said. "Am I interrupting you?"

"Not at all," Lupin replied. "I was working on my lesson plans, but there's no rush; I still have plenty of time to finish them before school starts. Come in and pull up a seat."

Harry walked in and sat down on the empty chair beside Lupin's desk; he had been wanting to talk to his Professor, but this was the first chance he'd had to catch Lupin alone. What he wanted to discuss was not something that he felt comfortable sharing with the Slytherins, or even his friends.

"We haven't really had a chance to just sit down and chat, have we, Harry?" Lupin asked cheerfully, as if he could read Harry's thoughts. "What's on your mind?"

"It's just, well..." Harry began hesitantly. "I never wanted to be the Boy Who Lived or to have to fight Voldemort, but still, that was my main purpose in life for the last six years. I was planning to become an Auror so that I could fight the Death Eaters, but now I don't need to, and...well..."

Lupin smiled, a look of understanding in his blue eyes. "You feel at loose ends?" he asked. "You don't know quite what to do with your life now?"

"Yes," Harry replied, grateful that Lupin seemed to understand how he felt. "I should be happy, and I am, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do now."

"Welcome to the life of a normal teenager, Harry," Lupin said, still smiling. "Well...you'll never really be normal, exactly, after everything you've been through, but would it surprise you to know most of your classmates are probably having similar thoughts?" Harry looked startled. "The lives of Draco and the other Death Eater offspring were permanently altered by the battle, too. Their parents all had plans for them--I think it's just as well that those plans were never carried out, but now they'll have to start over completely from scratch, which I'm sure they find a little scary. And even your other classmates, the ones who did not take part in the battle, are probably feeling a little frightened and unsure of themselves. Their teachers and parents are telling them that they have to decide what kind of careers they want, but very few people know exactly what they want to do with the rest of their lives at age seventeen."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Really," Lupin said firmly. "You don't have to decide the course of your life right now, Harry. It's okay not to decide on a career right away; it's even okay if you try out a job and decide later that it's not for you. Sometimes it takes awhile to find your path in life."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said, feeling much better.

"You're welcome, Harry," Lupin replied. "And you know, you don't have to call me 'Professor' when we're not in school; you can call me 'Remus'."

"Er..."

Lupin smiled at the uncomfortable expression on Harry's face. "You don't have to, of course, but you can if you want to."

"Uh...okay, thanks," Harry said. He wasn't sure that he would feel comfortable calling Lupin by his first name, but he noticed that Dylan and Theodore did, and it made him happy to be granted the same privilege. Although, come to think of it, Lupin had told them two summers ago that they could call him by his name, but Harry and his friends hadn't taken him up on it.

"Professor...um...er...Remus?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Yes, Harry?" Lupin said patiently, looking amused.

"I've been thinking about my dad a lot recently," Harry continued. "Ever since you told us that story about him and Snape playing Quidditch in the rain."

"I see," Lupin said, his expression suddenly becoming more guarded.

"I keep thinking about how much he and Snape hated each other," Harry said, "and about what I saw in the Pensieve." He hastily added, "I know you guys told me he was young, and that he grew out of it, but...well, I was wondering what he'd think about all this. I mean, about you and Snape being together, and Professor Blackmore and Sirius, and the Slytherins helping to fight the Death Eaters and..." He hesitated, then finished quietly, "And about how I had to embrace the Slytherin side of me to kill Voldemort."

"Ah," Lupin said softly, suddenly understanding what Harry was really concerned about: he was wondering whether his father would be proud of him for defeating Voldemort, or angry and disappointed in him for embracing his Slytherin side and allying himself with the people his father had regarded as enemies. Lupin wasn't sure himself how James would have reacted; he had the uneasy feeling that James would definitely have objected to his own relationship with Severus, and to Sirius's marriage to Branwen, whom James had always suspected of being a Dark Wizard even though she had not been a Slytherin. 

In fact, Lupin was very afraid that Sirius would never have matured enough to recognize his feelings for Branwen if James had lived; he had tended to follow James's lead, and the two of them would likely have continued to support each other's somewhat idealized and narrow-minded view of the world. And Lupin wondered if Harry would have grown up into the young man capable of defeating Voldemort if he had been raised by James, or if he would have become as arrogant and intolerant as James had been as a child. 

Lupin felt guilty for having such thoughts, but he kept remembering how James and Sirius had stripped and humiliated Severus beside the lake just for the fun of it, as well as numerous other petty pranks, and he suddenly had a vision of Harry, standing tall and proud, an arrogant sneer on his face, looking rather like Draco Malfoy, except that he was sneering at the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors. Such a boy could never have embraced the Serpent within him as Miyako had prophesied that he must, and he would have fallen to Voldemort, and the Dark Lord would have won the war, and they would all be dead or enslaved...

Lupin suddenly shook his head, telling himself that he was being silly. Yes, James had been narrow-minded, but if he had lived, surely he would have grown and matured, as both Severus and Sirius had! And of course there was Lily...Lupin sighed with relief. If Harry's parents had lived, surely Lily would have raised him to be as compassionate as she was, and she wouldn't have let her son get too full of himself. She was the main reason why James had begun to mature in school; he had been in love with her practically since the day they met, and when he finally realized that his swaggering act was not going to impress her, he started behaving in a more responsible manner, which did. Then Lupin scolded himself for getting all worked up about something that could never happen--Lily and James were dead, and nothing could change that, but Harry had grown up into a fine young man.

Lupin smiled at Harry and said confidently, "I'm sure your father would be proud of you, Harry. It's true that he had some prejudices, and he probably would have been upset about my relationship with Severus, as Sirius was, but I believe that like Sirius, he would eventually have grown up and overcome those prejudices. After all, Severus and Sirius eventually made peace with each other."

"That's true," Harry laughed, looking greatly relieved. "After what happened at the end of third year, I never would have thought they'd ever be able to stay in the same room without killing each other, much less learn to get along with each other! Even when they were both working for the Order, they nearly got into a duel when they were arguing over my Occlumency lessons!"

"It wasn't really you they were fighting about, Harry," Lupin said gently. "It was just a convenient excuse."

"Yeah, I get that now," Harry said. "Sirius was on edge from being cooped up in the house, and it seems like he's always been overprotective of the people he cares about. I mean, that's why he pulled the Shrieking Shack prank, to scare Snape away from you because he was afraid Snape might hurt you, right?"

That was actually a pretty insightful observation, Lupin thought, but Harry was still too young and inexperienced to see down to the deeper truth that lay below the surface: the mutual hatred Sirius and Severus had shared for so many years had been motivated mainly by jealousy on the part of both men. Lupin's lips twisted in an ironic smile as he recalled that Severus had recently told him that he was too popular for his own good; back when he had been a lonely, friendless young boy living alone in the woods with his parents, he had never imagined that someday people might actually be competing with each other for his affection! 

However, it was Sirius's place, not Lupin's, to tell Harry the real reason behind his animosity towards Severus. So all Lupin said was, "I love Sirius dearly, but he used to have the very bad habit of thinking that he knew what was best for everyone," which was true enough. "I think it's been good for him, having Branwen around; she doesn't let him get away with things like that." Lupin remembered, with shame and regret, how many times he had let things slide because he had been too afraid to confront Sirius and the others and risk losing their friendship.

Harry just laughed and said, "Professor Blackmore doesn't let anyone get away with anything--I should know!" Lupin laughed as well, and Harry rose from his seat, saying, "Thank you for talking with me, Professor; I feel a lot better now."

"You're welcome, Harry," Lupin said warmly. "I know I've been busy this summer, but I hope you'll always feel free to call on me if you need someone to talk to. I'll have Sirius or Branwen show you how to use the mirrors we Order members used to communicate with each other, and of course when we're back in school, you can stop by my office anytime."

Snape, who had been standing outside the open door eavesdropping, quickly retreated out of sight down the hall as he heard Potter prepare to leave. He had finished his chess game with Theodore, and had gone up to his room to get a book on chess strategy that he wanted to show the boy, but when he'd heard Potter's and Lupin's voices, curiosity had gotten the better of him; sneakiness was a Slytherin trait, after all. He had overheard Potter asking Lupin what his father would have thought of the whole situation, and Lupin's reply--after a very long pause--that James would have matured out of his old prejudices. 

Snape wasn't nearly so sure of that; Potter senior had been even more stubborn than Black in some ways, and would definitely have objected to Snape teaching his son Occlumency, even more strongly than Black had. Black had reluctantly deferred to the Headmaster's orders, but Snape knew that Dumbledore would never have been able to convince James that Snape wouldn't somehow harm or bewitch Harry during the lessons. And surely Potter would have hit the roof when he realized that his best friend had renewed his old romance with Snape, and Snape suddenly felt a pang of fear as he wondered what Lupin would have done if Potter had tried to make him choose between the two of them. Would he have had the strength to defy his old friend for Snape's sake? 

Snape reminded himself that Lupin had defied Sirius for his sake, but Black had been vulnerable in a way that Potter never was--after twelve long years in Azkaban, as a fugitive on the run with no one else to depend on, Sirius Black had not been willing to risk losing his old friend over a disagreement over that friend's lover. But if Potter and Black had presented a united front, what would Lupin have done then...? 

Snape's conscience told him that he was not giving his lover enough credit, but he was suddenly very glad that James Potter was dead, although he felt a little ashamed of that sudden surge of relief. It was not so much due to the old hatred as it was to the fear of losing what was most precious to him.

Then Snape berated himself for behaving like an idiot; it wasn't as if James Potter was going to rise from the dead and steal Lupin away from him! "I wonder what you'd think, Potter," Snape whispered, "about the fact that your best friend is sharing my bed and has your son associating with my Slytherin students?" He also wondered how James would have reacted to the knowledge that Lily and Harry were Salazar Slytherin's descendants; would his love for them have overcome his revulsion towards Slytherin, or would he have turned against his wife and son, unable to accept the tainted blood in their veins? He stood there ruminating as he waited until he heard Potter junior descend the staircase, then waited a few minutes more, and only then did he casually walk into the room he and Lupin shared.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said, looking up from his lesson plans. "I didn't hear you come up; I thought you were downstairs playing chess with Theo."

"I was, but the game's over," Snape replied. "I managed to beat Mr. Nott this time." He walked over to the bookcase and retrieved the title he was looking for. "I came up to get this book on chess strategy for him; I thought he could use a few pointers."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it," Lupin said with a smile, then his eyes flickered towards the doorway. "Er...you didn't happen to pass by Harry on your way up, did you?"

"No," Snape replied honestly, if somewhat deceptively. "Why do you ask?"

"Harry and I were just having a little chat before you came up," Lupin said, looking at Snape as if he wasn't quite certain that he believed him.

Snape gave Lupin his best nasty Potions Master grin. "Perhaps he ran away when he heard me coming."

"You're utterly terrifying," Lupin laughed, then suddenly rose from his seat and hugged Snape tightly. "I love you, Severus!" he said fiercely.

The unexpected embrace knocked the breath out of Snape for a moment; apparently he wasn't the only one who had been brooding about the past. "I love you, too, Remus," he gasped, "but could you ease up just a bit? I can't breathe."

"Oops," Lupin said with a sheepish grin. "Sorry." He loosened his hold on Snape but did not let go of him. "I was just thinking about how much I love you," he said in a more serious tone, "and that I don't know what I would do without you."

That irrational fear of losing Lupin suddenly vanished. "I was thinking the same thing," Snape replied softly, and kissed the werewolf, a long and deep kiss that left him breathless once again. He tried to return Lupin's embrace, but the book he was still holding got in the way.

Lupin laughed and reluctantly released his lover. "I suppose we shouldn't keep Theo waiting," he said regretfully. 

Snape nodded guiltily; the boy was probably wondering what had kept him so long. "You're right," he said, giving Lupin a brief kiss on the lips before turning to leave. 

"Wait, Severus!" Lupin said, grabbing a deck of cards from his desk. "I'll go down with you, and the three of us can play a game of cards together."

Snape smiled, immediately cheering up. That wasn't quite as appealing as a night of lovemaking, but it ran a close second; Snape was a little surprised to discover how much he enjoyed these little domestic moments of shared family time in the evening. He felt so smug and content that he didn't even object when Lupin slipped an arm around him as they headed down the stairs together. 

He gloated a little at James Potter's imaginary shade, thinking, _Lupin is mine, and no one will ever take him away from me again!_ Then he got absorbed in the game of Exploding Snap with Lupin and Theodore, enjoying his lover's smiles and the rare sound of his foster son's laughter, and completely forgot--at least for the moment--about ghosts, old grudges, and childhood rivalries.

*** 

The rest of their stay at Grimmauld Place passed by quickly; the children were getting along with each other, and Theo had no more nightmares. Lupin worried, however, that Dylan and Hermione might be getting along a little too well, and was faced with another awkward parenting problem.

"Er...Sev," Lupin said to Snape one day. "Have you noticed that Hermione and Dylan have gotten closer lately?"

"I don't see how I could have failed to notice," Snape said sourly, "what with them mooning over each other all the time. Personally, I'd prefer that the students restrict that sort of sappy display of affections to Madam Puddifoot's, but..." Snape frowned, looking a little puzzled as he interrupted his own rant. "Why do you ask, Lupin? Aside from your Gryffindor penchant for stating the obvious, I mean."

"Well," Lupin said, "I don't think their relationship has progressed beyond holding hands and stealing a few kisses in the library, but...um..." He blushed a little. "Perhaps you should have a little talk with Dylan about the...er...facts of life."

Snape snorted. "Slytherins aren't nearly as naive as you Gryffindors, and I'm quite sure that both of them know where babies come from, Lupin!"

"Yes, but do they know about birth control charms and spells?"

Snape froze in place, a horrified look suddenly spreading across his face, then he snorted again and shook his head. "They're both too sensible to do anything stupid, Lupin."

"Yes, but sometimes teenage hormones can overrule one's common sense," Lupin added with a sly grin, and Snape flushed as he remembered how he had become infatuated with a certain Gryffindor boy, in spite of all logic and common sense. "I'm probably worrying over nothing, but it's better to be safe than sorry, don't you think?"

"Why do I have to be the one to talk to him?" Snape whined. "Why can't you do it? I'm sure you would be much better at this sort of thing."

"But you're his mentor and Head of House," Lupin said sweetly. "It seems to me that it's your responsibility."

"We share equal guardianship of the boys," Snape grumbled, glaring at Lupin.

Lupin shrugged. "Well, personally I would be delighted to have a cub or two running around the cottage, but I thought that you--"

That look of horror returned to Snape's eyes and he ran out of the room, shouting, "Fine! I'll talk to him, already!" Lupin laughed as he watched his lover leave; it was probably a little mean of him to tease Severus this way, but he just couldn't resist.

"Stupid werewolf," Snape muttered under his breath, as he heard Lupin's laughter echoing behind him. "It was all his idea; I don't see why he couldn't handle it himself." He found Dylan, Theodore, and the girls practicing their Japanese together in the drawing room. "I would like a word with you, Mr. Rosier."

The other three children gave him apprehensive looks, but Dylan calmly set aside his textbook and said, "Yes, sir." Snape decided to go up to his workroom, where they were unlikely to be interrupted; he didn't really want anyone, especially the Gryffindors, to overhear their little chat.

Snape closed the door behind them, cleared his throat, and said, "Mr. Rosier..."

"Yes, sir?" Dylan asked, now beginning to look a little worried.

Snape coughed again, and felt his face turning a little red. "Lupin and I have observed that you and Miss Granger seem to be forming a...ah...close friendship."

"Yes, sir," Dylan replied, still looking anxious. "I know that you don't like the Gryffindors, but--"

Snape shook his head, saying, "No, I'm not telling you to break it off, Rosier," and Dylan looked relieved. "It's just that...well...Lupin thought..."

"Sir?" Dylan asked, puzzled. He had never seen Snape look so flustered before, except when Lupin was teasing him.

Snape cleared his throat one final time, forced himself to stop dithering, and said in a determined voice, "I suppose I should have had this talk with you before, considering what a ladies' man your father was, but Lupin and I wanted to make sure that you know how to cast birth control spells--and that you are aware of the consequences of not using them."

Dylan's face turned bright red, and Snape felt a bit of malicious pleasure at knowing that he was not the only one suffering from embarrassment at the moment. "Oh no, sir!" Dylan exclaimed. "I mean, yes, I know how to use those spells, but Hermione and I...uh...haven't reached that stage in our relationship yet."

"Good," Snape said, heaving a sigh of relief. "But when...I mean, if...things should get to that point, be sure to use those spells or better yet, pick up a permanently enchanted charm." Birth control charms could be bought, discreetly disguised as pieces of jewelry, usually pendants or bracelets.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, still blushing.

Snape was about to let the matter drop, but he was suddenly curious about something. "By the way, who taught you those spells? Did you study them on your own, or did one of the older boys teach them to you?"

Dylan's face turned even redder, and he looked completely mortified. "Mother taught me," he mumbled.

"Oh," Snape said, his own face reddening and he was suddenly sorry that he'd asked. Well, at least Ariane had not shirked her motherly duty!

"I was kind of an accident," Dylan continued, staring at the floor. "I mean, a happy one, because Mother said she was glad that part of Dad lived on in me, but she, um, never planned to get pregnant. She wanted to make sure that I wouldn't become a father until I was ready for it."

That was a little more than Snape really wanted to know, but at least he wouldn't have to teach Dylan "the facts of life," as Lupin put it. "Very well, Mr. Rosier, you may go."

"Yes, sir!" Dylan said, and fled the room.

"Well, that was a complete waste of time," Snape muttered. "Stupid werewolf; I told him Dylan was sensible!"

"So what did Professor Snape want?" Hermione asked when Dylan returned to the drawing room.

"Nothing," he replied, but his three friends gave him a suspicious look when he blushed.

"He called you out of the room for nothing?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"Well, uh, nothing really important; he, uh, just wanted to make sure that I was keeping up with my studies," Dylan said, thinking that it wasn't that much of a lie. "He just wanted to make sure that I'm, um, studying...er...certain spells that I'll be needing for the current term."

"I don't see why he couldn't have talked to you about that here," Ginny said, still looking suspicious.

"Who am I to argue with Snape?" Dylan asked desperately. "You know how he is; nobody in their right mind is going to tell him what to do--except for Lupin, of course."

"You're right," Hermione said, taking pity on him even though she was still curious herself. "Professor Snape has his own way of doing things." Dylan flashed her a grateful look, and she said, "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

As they began conversing in Japanese again, Theodore leaned over and whispered, "I can't wait to hear about this one!" and Dylan blushed again.

Later, in the privacy of their room, Theo fell back on his bed laughing as Dylan scowled at him. "It's not funny, Theo! How come Snape never had a talk with you about the birds and the bees?"

"I don't think he knows about me and Blaise," Theo said with a grin. "And even if he did, it's not like I can get Blaise pregnant!" Then he started laughing again.

"I'm not going to get Hermione pregnant!" Dylan shouted indignantly.

"You better keep your voice down, Rosier," Theo laughed. "You wouldn't want the Gryffindors to overhear you!" So Dylan had no choice but to sit there and glare at his foster brother in silence.

*** 

The summer drew to a close, and somewhat to Snape's surprise, Penelope proved more than a match for her future mother-in-law in stubbornness, and succeeded in having the small wedding she wanted instead of the huge production Molly would have orchestrated.

"Unless you invite everyone in the wizarding world, someone's bound to feel snubbed," Penelope pointed out to Arthur, who sighed and nodded wearily. Sometimes he preferred being an impoverished nobody to being the Minister of Magic, whom everyone wanted to curry favor with. "But if we only invite family and very close friends, then no one can claim that they're being excluded. Or rather, everyone else will have been excluded too, so there's no reason for them to feel singled out."

Arthur had agreed that it was the perfect solution, and Molly had no choice but to go along with it; Arthur couldn't afford to make too many political enemies as a new, untried Minster of Magic.

"Would people really try to get him fired just because they didn't get an invitation to a wedding?" Harry asked incredulously when Ron and Ginny told him about it over dinner one night.

"Haven't six years at Hogwarts taught you how petty the pureblood wizards can be, Potter?" Snape asked in his usual scornful voice, looking at Harry as if he were an especially dimwitted student. "I assure you that careers have been ruined over less."

"I don't see why anyone would want to come to Percy's wedding so badly," Ron muttered.

"Of course they don't care about that twit Percy!" Snape snapped, pounding his fist on the table in frustration.

"Temper, temper, Severus," Lupin scolded.

"Sometimes I forget how thickheaded you Gryffindors can be," Snape grumbled, calming down a bit. "Would you care to explain it to them, Mr. Nott?"

"Certainly, Professor," Theodore said, looking a little smug. "People don't really care about seeing your brother get married, Weasley. They just want to feel important enough to rate an invitation because your father is the Minister of Magic. And the reception would be a convenient opportunity for them to suck up to your father and ask him for favors."

Ginny nodded; this was not news to her. "I think Daddy's relieved that he can just enjoy the wedding and not have to worry about playing politics."

"Oh," Ron said, feeling a little stupid. Okay, he should have been able to figure that out on his own since his younger sister had, but did the Slytherins really have to be so obnoxious about it? "I guess being Minster of Magic isn't all it's cracked up to be. I thought the Minister could do anything he wanted, but it seems like Dad always has to worry about what people think."

"Unpopular Ministers have been deposed in the past," Snape said in a more serious voice, "or strongly encouraged to resign. Despite all the status that his title confers, the Minister of Magic is not immune to power plays; your father cannot afford to make too many enemies." He added waspishly, "Potter, if you'd read that book Malfoy gave you for your birthday, you would know all this. Are you using it as anything other than a paperweight?"

"I've been reading it," Harry said defensively, which was true, but he hadn't gotten very far; it was long and boring, and he couldn't read more than a few pages at time without yawning--better than hot milk for putting someone to sleep. Admittedly, he hadn't put much effort into reading it, not when there were a lot more fun and interesting things to do: playing cards or chess with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione; the casual Quidditch matches against the Slytherins; and even Professor Lupin's Japanese lessons. However, from the stern look Hermione was giving him, he suspected he would be spending a lot more time reading it under her watchful eye. "It's really long," he complained. "I'm only up to the 1400's right now. The Ministry hadn't even been founded yet."

"Haven't we covered all that stuff in History of Magic?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, but didn't you sleep through most of it?" his sister retorted.

"I can't help it!" Ron protested. "The way Professor Binns just drones on and on..."

"Speak of your teachers with more respect, Mr. Weasley," Snape said sternly, although privately he agreed with the boy. Binns had been his teacher, too, and he remembered what a challenge it had been trying to stay awake in that class. "In any case, Potter, if you continue to read the book you'll find that it gives you more of a sociological perspective than Professor Binns does on things like blood status."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, obediently if glumly.

"It wouldn't hurt Mr. Weasley to read it as well."

"Yes, Professor," Ron echoed, just as glumly.

"Look at those gloomy faces!" Lupin laughed. "I don't think it would hurt to spend, say, one hour of each day reading or studying, and you can still have the rest of the day to do as you please."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Professor," Hermione said brightly.

"Of course you would," Ron muttered under his breath, but decided that it was fortunate Lupin was here; Snape probably would have had them studying all day. Then again, if Lupin hadn't been here, then neither would Snape. He liked Lupin, but he was very grateful that Sirius and Professor Blackmore would be returning soon, and then he and Ginny would be returning home as well, and he wouldn't have to live with Snape anymore.

For his part, Snape was relieved that the Weasleys had decided to keep the wedding small, because it meant that he wasn't invited. He'd been afraid that the werewolf would badger him and the boys into going, but as it turned out, only Lupin was invited--more for Molly's, Ron's, and Ginny's sakes than Percy's, since Percy had never been particularly close to Lupin. Molly apologized profusely for not being able to invite Snape, but he assured her that he was not offended in the slightest.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Lupin teased. "I think I could still wangle an invitation for you..."

"Try it and I'll turn you into a wolfskin rug," Snape threatened, and Lupin just laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

Snape, Dylan, and Theodore passed the day quietly, reading and playing chess until Lupin, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione returned home.

"Well, how did it go?" Dylan asked.

"It was a lovely wedding," Lupin said with a smile.

"Mum wept bucketloads of tears," Ron said.

"Percy had the goofiest grin on his face during the entire ceremony!" Ginny giggled.

"People in love tend do that," Lupin said, grinning at Snape in a rather goofy way himself, and bent down to kiss his lover, who was sitting in a chair beside the fireplace in the drawing room.

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape huffed.

"Oh, don't be so grouchy, Sev," Lupin chided, then handed him a small cardboard box wrapped with a pink ribbon. "Here, I brought you some leftover wedding cake."

Snape eyed the box with interest. "Did Molly bake it?"

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Do you really think she would let anyone else bake her son's wedding cake?"

"No, I suppose not," Snape said, pulling off the ribbon and opening the box.

A mischievous gleam suddenly appeared in Lupin's eyes, and he took the box from a startled Snape and sat down on his lap.

"LUPIN! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Feeding you cake," Lupin said innocently, breaking off a piece with his fingers and holding it up to Snape's lips.

"I just remembered something I have to do upstairs," Theodore said, jumping up and abandoning the chess game he had been playing with Dylan. 

"Yeah, me too!" Ron added hastily, and he and Harry ran out of the room, right on Theodore's heels. Dylan just chuckled, and the girls blushed and giggled, and they hurried after the others.

Snape opened his mouth to yell at Lupin and perhaps threaten to turn him into a wolfskin rug, but Lupin took that opportunity to pop the bit of cake into Snape's mouth. Snape automatically chewed and swallowed, still glowering at his lover, but the sugar calmed him down as Lupin had hoped it would.

"Do you recall that fairy tale you told the boys about the blacksmith who stuck his hand down a wolf's throat?" Snape growled. "And what Theodore told you would happen in the Slytherin version of it?"

Lupin grinned and broke off another piece of cake. "Yes, but we Gryffindor idiots like to live dangerously. I will take my chances with the wolf's jaws--or should I say the serpent's?" 

The Potions Master's glare changed into a sinister smile that would have caused his students to break out in a cold sweat, but in Lupin's case, it caused a burst of heat to spread through his belly...well, a little lower, actually. He held out the scrap of cake and Severus's mouth closed over his fingers. He felt teeth nip playfully at his fingers, then the softer pressure of Severus's lips sliding down his fingers. A little whimper escaped Lupin's throat as Severus slowly licked every last bit of crumb and frosting from his fingers, then Lupin whined in protest when his fingers fell free from his lover's mouth, and Severus grinned wickedly at him.

That grin was all it took for Lupin to lose his self control; the box of cake hit the floor. The Potions Master opened his mouth to complain about the waste of a perfectly good piece of cake, but Lupin instantly sealed his mouth over Snape's, kissing him fiercely, his tongue greedily exploring inside Snape's mouth, tasting the lingering sweetness of the cake. Lupin broke off the kiss and shifted position slightly, throwing one leg across Snape's lap so that he was straddling his lover, then began undoing the fastenings on Snape's robe.

"Lupin!" Snape gasped. "Wh...what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Lupin retorted cheerfully, letting the robe fall open as he started working on the buttons of Snape's shirt. "A clever Slytherin like you ought to be able to figure it out."

"But...but..." Snape stammered weakly. "We're in the drawing room! The children..."

"Aren't likely to be interrupting us anytime soon," Lupin finished smoothly as he glanced at Theodore's and Dylan's abandoned chess set, "considering how fast they ran out of here." Then he laughed, "I can't believe that a naive Gryffindor like myself has actually managed to shock a jaded Slytherin like you!"

Snape tried to glare at him, but was distracted by the fact that Lupin's hands were now caressing his bare chest. "You're not as naive as you used to be, Lupin," Snape said sourly. "In fact, I'm beginning to think that sweet and innocent act of yours is exactly that--an act."

"You're so cynical, Severus," Lupin said reprovingly, then kissed him on the tip of his nose. "But I love you anyway."

"Hmmph!" Snape snorted, and forced his lips into a scowl even though they kept trying to curve up into a smile. "You know, we could continue this in the bedroom."

"But we've never done it in the drawing room before," Lupin pointed out. 

Snape gave up his attempt at scowling, and burst out laughing. "Exhibitionist!"

Lupin grinned. "Oh, look who's talking! I remember how much you enjoyed our office trysts; tell me you don't find this at least a little titillating." He squirmed on Snape's lap, just a little.

"It's you that I find titillating," Snape said in a ragged voice, "not the room."

"You know," Lupin said slyly, "Sirius would be utterly scandalized if he knew what we were doing in his drawing room."

That wicked smile Lupin loved so much was back on Severus's lips. "Now that I do find titillating," he purred. 

Lupin also loved the sound of that low, husky purr. "You're so sexy when you're being evil, Sev," he said, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a feral grin that exposed his fang-like canines.

"You're so sexy when you're being wolfish, Lupin," Snape panted. He felt Lupin's fingers drift slowly down his chest, then slip just under the waistband of his trousers and teasingly skim across his waist. He groaned as Lupin began to unfasten his trousers, then said, "Wait, wait!" and fumbled in the pockets of his robe for his wand. Despite Lupin's assurances that the children would not be back, he wanted to make sure that they would be uninterrupted--and unheard as well.

"What are you doing?" Lupin asked impatiently.

"Looking for my wand."

Lupin grinned and raised his eyebrows as he looked down at Snape's lap. "Oh, is that your wand I feel? And here I thought you were just happy to see me!"

Despite his state of arousal, Snape still managed to roll his eyes and say sarcastically, "Very original, Lupin; just the sort of humor I'd expect from a Gryffindor." 

He cast a warding spell on the door and a silence spell on the room, then turned his attention back to Lupin. They kissed, and he felt Lupin's sharp teeth nip at his lower lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. Snape in turn nipped at Lupin's neck, and the werewolf moaned and began struggling impatiently out of his clothes with Snape's help, although Snape wasn't sure if he was more help or hindrance, since their hands seemed to be getting in each other's way. He was tempted to use the spell that would make Lupin's clothes fall apart at the seams, but just then, the last button was undone, and Lupin shrugged off his robe and shirt. To Snape's regret, Lupin did have to slide off his lap for a moment to take off his trousers and underwear.

One tiny part of Snape's brain was still able to think logically despite being befuddled by lust. "Er...Lupin, we don't have any lubrica--oh!" Snape gasped and leaned back in the chair as Lupin knelt in front of him, finished unfastening Snape's trousers, lowered his mouth, and proceeded to prove that he could provide any needed lubrication on his own, thank you very much. 

Snape groaned and stroked Lupin's silky gold-and-silver hair which was now fanned out across his lap. A little while later, Lupin lifted his face and smiled at Snape, a thin thread of saliva still hanging from his lips, his pale blue eyes looking feral and wanton. Snape thought it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen and wondered, _Did I ever really think Lupin was shy?_ He seemed to vaguely recall that the teenaged Lupin had been shy and inexperienced, and that even the adult Lupin blushed from time to time, but he seemed to be having trouble thinking coherently at the moment.

Lupin climbed back onto Snape's lap, straddling him once more, and slowly lowered himself down. Snape's fingers closed around his hips, halting his progress, and Lupin moaned impatiently. "Are you sure...you're ready?" Snape asked, his voice hoarse and his words coming out in ragged gasps. "Don't want...to hurt you."

There were times when Lupin liked making love at a slow and leisurely pace; this was not one of those times. "Can't wait," he growled. "The wolf wants you now." He leaned forward and nipped gently at his mate's neck. "And werewolves are resilient, remember?" Snape's hands were still resting on Lupin's hips, but now they were urging him downward, and Lupin was more than happy to oblige, groaning out loud as he felt his lover's hardness sliding into him; he heard a hoarse, deeper groan echo his own. He gripped Snape's shoulders to brace himself, raising himself up, and then down again, slowly at first, but quickly increasing the pace. Each time he ground down into Snape's lap, driving his lover deep inside of him, it sent an intense jolt of pleasure through his body. Mingled groans and growls escaped from his lips as he felt the wolf taking over, even though it wasn't really that close to the full moon.

Snape tried to thrust upwards, but found it a bit awkward with his body pinned between the chair and the weight of the werewolf's body, so he leaned back, letting Lupin do most of the work, and drank in the sight of his lover. Lupin looked so beautiful, his pale skin flushed with desire and exertion, his long hair falling in sweaty strands across his face. Lupin bared his teeth in a playful snarl, and his blue eyes were filled almost completely with the feralness of the wolf and very little of the man. Snape found that sight incredibly exciting, and pulled Lupin's face down and kissed him hard, running his tongue along Lupin's sharp canine teeth. Lupin growled into his mouth, exciting Snape further, and despite the awkwardness of the position, braced himself against the chair and began thrusting up into Lupin, who cried out in pleasure. "Oh God," Snape gasped. "Remy...so beautiful...love you..."

Even as his body was driven by the wolf's desires, Lupin's eyes filled with tears and his heart filled with tenderness as he was reminded once again just how fully Severus embraced both sides of him: he did not merely tolerate Lupin's lycanthropy; he loved Lupin the wolf just as much as he did Lupin the man. He leaned forward and bit Severus on the neck, stopping just short of breaking the skin; Snape moaned and began thrusting harder. Lupin marveled at the trust that implied--even though werewolves were not contagious in their human form, how many people would allow one to bite them? For that matter, how many people would sleep with a werewolf, much less love one? For so many years he had nearly torn himself in two, fighting his wolfish nature, but now he joyfully abandoned himself to it, crying, "Severus, I love you!"

That seemed to excite Severus even more, and he raked his nails down Lupin's back. They were blunt and neatly trimmed, of course--God forbid that long nails should hinder the preparation of potion ingredients in any way, Lupin thought with amusement--too blunt to do any damage, but the sensation was enough to make him arch his back and cry out, and he began riding Severus even harder and faster than before. His own erection rubbed against his lover's belly as he ground and writhed on Severus's lap, and he heard himself whine. 

He felt Severus's hands slide from his back around to his chest and drift down lower, but Lupin batted them away before they could touch him. Severus looked startled, and Lupin growled, "Not yet, not yet," in an apologetic tone. He felt like he would explode if Severus touched him there, and he wanted to prolong the pleasure a little longer. Severus seemed to understand, because he smiled and ran his hands up and down Lupin's back instead. But even so, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. 

"Howl for me, Remy," Snape whispered, and Lupin groaned and flung his head back, exposing his throat. Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin, pulled him close, and sank his teeth into Lupin's throat. That sudden surge of pain and pleasure sent Lupin over the edge and he howled as he came, a howl that sounded remarkably like that of a real wolf's and that would no doubt have alarmed--or at least embarrassed--the children if not for the silence spell set on the room. Lupin's hands clenched down on his lover's shoulders, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to leave bruises, and he felt Severus come inside him a moment later with a hoarse, guttural shout. 

Lupin fell forward, collapsing against Snape's chest as Snape slumped back against the chair. They simply sat there for a few minutes, holding each other as they tried to catch their breath.

"Wow," Lupin finally said in a soft voice.

"At a loss for words, Lupin?" Snape asked, smirking. "That's quite unusual."

Lupin planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Well, thanks to your masterful lovemaking, I'm not feeling up to being very articulate right now."

Snape snorted. "That sounded quite articulate to me! Although I do like being referred to as 'masterful'..."

"Well, how would you describe it?" Lupin laughed.

Snape paused to think for a moment. "Truly amazing, mind-blowing sex?"

"I'll settle for that," Lupin chuckled, and kissed him again, this time on the lips. Then he lightly kissed the bruises starting to form on Snape's neck and shoulders. The part of him that was the man felt apologetic, while the part that was the wolf regarded the bruises with smug possessiveness and said with great satisfaction, _My mate. Mine. All mine!_ But he didn't feel too badly about it, because Severus was regarding him with equal possessiveness, reaching up to lightly caress Lupin's throat; it often seemed to Lupin that there was a bit of wolf in Severus as well.

Snape gently ran his fingers across the dark, purpling bruise on Lupin's throat. "I didn't mean to bite you that hard," he said, sounding apologetic and pleased at the same time. "Does it hurt?"

"In a good way," Lupin said, baring his teeth in a wolfish grin. "Besides, I told you that werewolves are resilient. We don't heal quite as fast in our human forms as we do in our wolf forms, but it should start fading away by tomorrow."

"Pity," Snape said, grinning back at Lupin. "That just means I'll have to mark you again tomorrow night, I suppose." He gently nipped at Lupin's neck.

"Only if I can mark you, too," Lupin laughed, and added another bruise to Snape's neck. Those would last longer, Lupin thought with satisfaction, since Severus didn't have the supernatural healing powers of a werewolf. Though it was a pity that the bruises would just be covered up by Severus's high-collared robes; the wolf would have liked everyone to see its claim upon its mate. Ah well, on the other hand, divesting Severus of his clothing, with so many stubborn buttons and fastenings, while frustrating, was also pleasurable--not unlike unwrapping a birthday or Christmas present. 

"You look less like a wolf at this moment, and more like a cat with a bowl of cream," Snape laughed. "I half expect you to start purring!"

Lupin ran his tongue across Snape's throat and shoulders, and did a fair facsimile of a purr, and Snape chuckled. Suddenly Lupin's expression turned serious, and he kissed Snape fiercely, then said, "I love you, Sev!"

Snape blinked, looking startled. "I love you, too, Remus, but what brought that on?"

"Thank you," Lupin said softly, caressing Snape's face, "for loving the wolf as well as the man. For teaching me to accept the wolf. You don't know how much it means to me."

"Oh, I think I have an idea," Snape said gravely. He pulled up the left sleeve of his robe, exposing the pale, smooth skin of his forearm where the Dark Mark had formerly been branded. "Most people would have recoiled in horror from the Dark Mark, but you never hesitated to touch it or kiss it. You accepted the part of me that was drawn to the Dark Arts and the Death Eaters. How can I do any less? You never chose to become a werewolf, but I chose to join the Death Eaters of my own free will, and still you love me."

"Severus, I..." Lupin said, then stopped, too overwhelmed by emotion too continue.

Snape suddenly looked embarrassed and said jokingly, "Struck speechless twice tonight, Lupin? That must be a record! And as for accepting the wolf, it wasn't that hard--for a Dark Creature, you're not very scary, Lupin, what with the way you go around wagging your tail and slobbering all over everyone."

Lupin smiled and kissed him. "I love you, too, Severus."

"Hmmph!" Snape said in a gruff voice that didn't fool Lupin one bit. "Not that this hasn't been fun, Lupin, but I don't really want to spend the night in this chair. Plus you're starting to get a bit heavy and my legs are going numb."

Lupin laughed and crawled off of Snape's lap. They cast a couple of cleaning spells, gathered up Lupin's clothes, removed the wards and silence spell from the drawing room, and Apparated back to their bedroom. 

Hob entered the room a few minutes later and began straightening up, putting away the chess set the boys had left out and the book Snape had set aside when Lupin and the others had returned from the wedding. He also swept up the spilled cake Lupin had dropped on the floor and forgotten about.

"What a waste of good cake," Hob said sadly. "They could have given it to Hob if they didn't want it." It was very unusual for Snape--or the Dark Man, as Hob thought of him--to let sweets go to waste, but he tended to get distracted when Lupin was around. Hob shook his head a little; he was used to living with families--parents busy raising young children--not young couples still in the throes of passion. Well, actually Snape and Lupin were busy raising their two sons, but they still seemed to have plenty of time for passion. Hob was just relieved that they had cleaned up after themselves, aside from the cake--especially since they had been using Mister Sirius's favorite chair. Hob thought to himself that it would probably be best if the Mister never found out about this little incident. 

Hob headed to the kitchen and was delighted to find a cardboard box containing another piece of cake beside the fireplace. Harry had been diligent about carrying out the Mister's duties in his absence, and never forgot to leave Hob's gift beside the fire every night. Hob settled down to eat his cake and thought to himself that even if his wizarding family was a little strange, they were still very nice people.

*** 

Sirius and Branwen returned from their honeymoon; Sirius looked tanned, relaxed, and happy, while Branwen still retained her porcelain-pale complexion, but looked just as happy. Snape was delighted to see them both, even Black, because it meant that he could go home and turn the Gryffindors back over to their parents' care.

"See you at school!" Hermione cheerfully called out to Dylan and Theodore as they left, and Snape sighed at the reminder that the brats would only be in their parents' care for a short time before they would once again be his problem when they returned to school.

Lupin, Snape, and the boys returned to the cottage to find that a large amount of mail had piled up in their absence. Snape began sorting through it; most of it was junk mail: advertisements from potions stores and magical supply shops, as well requests for interviews from the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and The Quibbler. Snape tossed them all into the fireplace, where he had lit a fire for this express purpose.

It was not all junk mail, however. There was a letter from Professor Kamiyama saying that his granddaughter Miyako was progressing well in her studies as a Seer, and that Karasu's and Chizuru's clans were still negotiating their marriage contract. Meanwhile, the happy couple had not waited for the marriage to be formalized and had quietly moved in together at Mahou Gakkou, the Japanese school of magic where Chizuru taught, while the details were being worked out. There were also letters to Dylan from his female classmates, telling him how much they missed him and looked forward to seeing him at school soon, and a wedding invitation for Lupin.

"Another one?" Snape asked peevishly. "Who is it from this time?"

"Brian Perry," Lupin replied cheerfully. "You know, the young man who was recovering from a werewolf attack at St. Mungo's while Arthur was hospitalized there two Christmases ago. He was very bitter for a long time--his family disowned him, you know--but it seems he's finally adjusted to his new life. I suppose it helps that the Daily Prophet portrayed the werewolves as heroes during the final battle. Anyway, he's marrying a young lady named Kyra, one of Lukas's pack members."

"How lovely for them," Snape said sourly. "I'm sure they'll be very happy and raise a nice litter of cubs together. Please tell me that I don't have to go; I don't even know them."

"Well, it says I can bring a guest--" Lupin started to say, and Snape groaned; Lupin grinned. "But you don't have to come if you don't want to. It'll probably be mostly werewolves, anyway, although I think Arthur might want to come; they got to be friendly at the hospital, and he's looked out for Brian since then, even helped him find a job."

"If the Weasleys are going to be there, I definitely won't go," Snape muttered.

"I suppose I could always take Lukas as my date," Lupin said casually, then laughed at the look of shock and outrage on Snape's face. "I'm just kidding, Severus," Lupin said, leaning over to kiss Snape on the cheek. "You know I'm not interested in anyone but you."

"If you want me to come with you, just say so," Snape grumbled. He supposed the werewolf leader was handsome, in a scruffy sort of way. He didn't know whether Bleddri was interested in men or women, and it wasn't as if he didn't trust Lupin, but perhaps it would be best if he came along to protect Lupin from any lecherous werewolves who might take a fancy to him. For his own protection, of course.

"You don't have to come with me, but I'd like you to," Lupin said sweetly.

"Fine," Snape growled. "When is the blasted wedding, anyway? Won't we be in school by then?"

"It's on a Saturday, the last weekend of September," Lupin replied, "so we don't have to worry about skipping class. After all, I'm sure Lukas will be invited to the wedding, and he's a teacher, too."

"Fine," Snape repeated grumpily, then he froze in place and his face went pale as he reached for the next stack of letters. Lupin leaned over his shoulder, and saw that they were all addressed to "Severus Snape, Hogwarts School of Magic," in elegant calligraphy; the school must have forwarded them to the cottage. Snape slowly turned the top letter over with a trembling hand, and Lupin could see that the return address on the back of the envelope said, "S. Snape, Snape Manor," and that the envelope was sealed with red wax stamped with a design of a snake curved into the shape of an "S".

Snape suddenly grabbed up all the letters from Snape Manor and tossed them into the fireplace. "Severus!" Lupin cried out in dismay, and Snape grabbed him and held him back when he tried to reach into the fireplace to retrieve the letters.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Snape snarled. "You'll burn yourself!"

"But Severus," Lupin cried as he watched the fire eat away at the letters, "they're from your mother, aren't they? Don't you want to know what they say?"

Dylan and Theodore stared at their guardians, looking pale and anxious as Snape snapped, "Oh, I already have a pretty good idea of what they say, Lupin!"

"But Severus--" Lupin protested.

"Do you really want to know what they say, Lupin?" Snape raged. "Most likely something along the lines of, 'How dare you disgrace the family name by taking a beast as your lover and exposing your depravity to the world!' Do you really want to read those letters, Lupin?"

Lupin did not flinch, and said quietly, "I am used to being insulted, Severus; I don't care what your mother says about me, except that it obviously distresses you. But there must have been at least a dozen letters in that stack, and we've only been gone for two weeks; what if it's something more than berating you about your werewolf lover? Surely even Lady Selima wouldn't bother writing you a letter every day for two weeks just for that! What if it's something important?"

"I can't imagine what could be so important," Snape said stiffly, but in a more subdued voice. "And even if it is something important, I am no longer a member of the Snape family, so it has nothing to do with me."

"Family ties are not broken so easily," Lupin said softly, "no matter what the official documents say."

"I want nothing to do with my family," Snape said curtly. "And believe me, neither do you. This is not something that can be mended with your Gryffindor idealism and good intentions, so stay out of it, Lupin!" He stalked into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Lupin sighed, staring sadly at the ashes in the fireplace. He felt a hand gently touch his arm, and turned around to look into Dylan's concerned eyes; Theodore looked worried and a little frightened as well. "Are you okay, Remus?" Dylan asked. "I know the Professor didn't mean--"

"It's all right," Lupin reassured him. "I know that Severus isn't angry at me; he's angry at his parents, and I can't blame him. But still, it worries me that Lady Selima sent so many letters, when he's had almost no communication with his family for almost twenty years. At least, I assume it's Selima who sent them; it looked like a woman's handwriting, but I could be wrong."

"She seemed pretty concerned about Professor Snape having an heir to carry on the family name," Dylan said. 

"When did you meet the Professor's mother?" Theodore asked curiously. "I thought his family had disowned him."

"Last Halloween, when I went to Diagon Alley with Remus and Professor Snape," Dylan explained. "We just happened to run into her on the street. She dragged him over to the Leaky Cauldron to talk to him--" Theodore raised his eyebrows; it was difficult to picture Snape being dragged around like an errant child by his mother. Dylan grinned and continued, "Figuratively speaking, of course. His mother is very intimidating; he definitely takes after her--she has that same stare he does, the one that makes his students quiver with fear. Anyway, she was really upset about the possibility of the Snape line dying out; she practically begged him to get married and have an heir, even said that she'd get his father to accept him back into the family." He turned to Lupin. "Maybe that's what she's writing to him about. She must have heard about you and Professor Snape, and she's afraid that now he'll never give them an heir."

Lupin frowned. "Possibly, but why start writing to us now? With the way gossip travels, she must have heard about us by early June; why didn't she write to him then? Why is it suddenly so urgent for her to get in touch with him now?" Lupin hesitated; coming from an old pureblood family, Theo was probably the most politically aware of the three of them. He hated to stir up unpleasant memories, but he was worried about Severus and what Selima Snape might want from him. "Theo," he asked, "did you ever hear any gossip about the Snapes, anything that might explain why his family would be trying to contact him now?"

"Not really," Theodore said slowly, shaking his head. He didn't seem to be upset by Lupin's question, just worried and thoughtful. "I did overhear my parents talking about them sometimes; I know that the Professor's father used to be a friend and ally of Lucius Malfoy's father. But after Lucius's parents died during the war, the Snapes and the Malfoys had a falling-out. Lucius was angry that the Snapes didn't support the Death Eaters during the war; he called them fence-sitters and used his influence against them. The Snapes were too powerful to be eliminated or even just financially ruined the way the Zabinis were, but they lost a great deal of their influence. 

"Severin Snape was forced--well, 'strongly encouraged'--to take an early retirement from his job at the Ministry, and he hasn't been a political player in the wizarding world since then. He's supposed to be kind of a recluse, and hardly ever leaves the family estate. Selima Snape still socializes with her peers, though, at least according to my mother. The Snapes are supposed to be very concerned with protecting their family honor; that's why they disowned the Professor, after all, when they thought he was a Death Eater. But this is all old news; I haven't heard anything that would explain the letters. But I guess they could be concerned about making sure there's an heir to carry on the Snape name; the Professor doesn't have any brothers or sisters, or even any first cousins, at least on his father's side."

"He has family on his mother's side?" Lupin asked curiously; he knew so little about Severus's family, since he didn't like to talk about them.

"Yes," Theodore replied. "She comes from a family of wealthy merchants, the Bashirs. They wouldn't have any claim to the Snape title, of course."

"Of course," Lupin echoed, feeling a little dazed. He had just learned more about Severus's background from Theo in the last five minutes than he had learned from Severus in the past twenty years. "You know all this just off the top of your head?" he asked incredulously.

Theodore smiled. "The purebloods are always gossiping about each other, Remus. They're constantly comparing themselves to other families and seeing how they measure up in status. And there's nothing they love more than gossiping about someone who's suffered a reversal of fortune."

Lupin sighed; he was very grateful that he had not been raised in that world, but it put him at a disadvantage when he was trying to understand how it worked. "I don't suppose that anything has happened recently in the Bashir family, either, that Selima would need to contact Severus about?"

"I don't think so," Theodore said, shaking his head again. "Their business has been doing well, as far as I know, and I haven't heard that they were having any personal problems. Of course, I've been out of the loop for the past few months, ever since..." His voice trailed off, leaving unspoken the words, "my parents died".

"Thanks, Theo," Lupin said, giving his foster son a hug. "I didn't mean to stir up old memories, but I'm worried about Severus."

"It's all right, Remus," Theodore said. "I don't mind; I'm worried, too."

"If it's really important, I'm sure she'll write again," Dylan said. "Or maybe even come in person if he won't reply." He found that thought rather unnerving; the cottage seemed too small to contain the explosion that was bound to occur when two angry Snapes confronted each other.

Lupin wasn't sure whether to hope that Selima would contact Severus again or just hope that she would give up and leave him alone; he wasn't sure which would be better for Severus. Having met Selima Snape, and having heard how Severus's parents had treated him as a child, Lupin wasn't sure that a family reconciliation was possible. He wasn't sure that a reconciliation was desirable even if it was possible; he didn't think that using a Cruciatus Curse on one's own son--as Severin Snape had--was an offense that could be forgiven. He wasn't sure that Selima should be forgiven, either, for failing to protect her son from his father, although she had apparently been motivated by misguided notions of family duty rather than cruelty or fear. 

The only thing Lupin was sure of was that the estrangement from his family was a wound that Severus had let fester for years. Severus had worked hard to help the boys deal with their grief and emotional wounds, but typically, he had never bothered to deal with his own. 

Lupin sighed again and said, "I'll go talk to Severus." He smiled at the boys, trying to look more confident than he felt. "Don't worry; whatever the problem is, we'll work through it together." He walked over to the bedroom door, knocked, and called out, "Severus? Can I come in?"

"If I said no, would that stop you?" Snape replied in his normal snarky tone, and Lupin sighed with relief.

He cheerfully answered, "No," and walked in to find Snape lying on the bed.

Snape immediately sat up and said, "I'm sorry, Remus; I shouldn't have said those things to you."

Lupin's natural response would be to crack a joke about fainting with shock at hearing the Potions Master apologize, but he didn't think that Severus was in the mood for it right now. So he simply sat beside his lover, gently stroked his cheek, and said, "It's all right, Severus; I'm not angry at you. I know it must be a shock, hearing from your family out of the blue like this."

"They're not my family," Snape said firmly. "You and Dylan and Theodore are the only family I have, or want."

"But Severus--"

Snape laid a finger across Lupin's lips. "I know you mean well, Remus, but this is not something you can fix. My parents are not nice people; you know that I don't think of you as a beast, or our relationship as something depraved, but that is exactly what they would think. People aren't necessarily worthy of being called 'family' just because they're related to you by blood--if Theodore's parents were still alive, would you want him to reconcile with them?"

"No, Severus," Lupin said quietly. "Some things cannot be forgiven. I am not saying that you should reconcile with your family, but it seems to me that you have some unfinished business with them." He reached out and laid his hand over Snape's. "Perhaps you need to confront them about the way they treated you as a child--"

Snape snorted derisively. "I already confronted my mother last Halloween, and you saw how well that went over! I can yell at them until I'm blue in the face, Lupin, and it won't change anything. It won't change what happened in the past, it won't change the way they feel, and it won't change the way I feel."

"I know," Lupin sighed, still holding Snape's hand, "but I hate to see you in pain, Severus, and this old estrangement still hurts you, doesn't it?"

Snape laughed, but it came out sounding hollow and not very convincing. "Quite the opposite, Lupin! It came as a great relief when they disowned me--no more need to live in that gloomy mansion, or put up with my parents, or provide them with an heir." 

"No matter how much you hated them, Severus," Lupin said gently, "they were still your family, and it must have hurt when they disowned you. Theo hated his parents, but he loved them as well, otherwise their betrayal would never have hurt so much."

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable. "Theodore is softer than I was as a child; Marta treated him with affection even if she was too cowardly to protect him. As for myself, I feel nothing but hatred and contempt for my parents."

"I saw your reaction to those letters," Lupin said softly. "You can't tell me that you felt no pain."

"As you said once before, Lupin, no one survives a war without picking up a few scars along the way," Snape said curtly. "Seeing my parents and listening to them insult you won't make me feel any better, I assure you."

"But--"

"There is no way that they will ever accept you as my lover," Snape interrupted. "And there is no way in hell that I will ever give you up." Despite his concern, Lupin had to smile a little at the vehemence in his lover's voice. "And I doubt that they would be thrilled about me fostering the boys, either," Snape continued, then sighed wearily. "I know it goes against your Gryffindor inclination to meddle in other people's business, but please just leave it be, Remus."

"Severus--"

"Please," Snape repeated, worrying Lupin further because the irritable Potions Master almost never used the word "please," and he had just said it twice in almost the same breath. "Just let it go. And promise me that if any more letters come, you won't try to open them."

Lupin flushed guiltily, because he had just been thinking that perhaps he could intercept the next letter from Snape Manor before Severus destroyed it. But he didn't have the right to read his lover's mail even if his intentions were good. And Severus looked so weary and drained, near the end of his rope, as he had not looked since before the war had ended, when his role as a spy among the Death Eaters--and his fear that he would not be able to protect his students--had taken a heavy toll on him. "All right, I promise," Lupin said reluctantly. He didn't like it, but he supposed that he couldn't force Severus to confront his family, anyway. If and when it happened, it would have to be a decision that Severus made on his own.

Snape looked relieved, and said, "Thank you, Remus."

"I love you, Severus," Lupin said, holding him tightly. "I'm always here for you, and I'll always support you, no matter what."

"I know, Remus," Snape said, hugging him back. "Thank you."

"Please? Thank you?" Lupin teased, attempting to lighten the mood a little. "My, but you're polite today!"

"Hmmph!" Snape snorted, pretending to be offended. "This is why we Slytherins are always rude--people make fun of us when we're polite!"

Lupin laughed, "I'm sorry, Sev, you're right! But you just wouldn't be you if you were all sweetness and light. I love you, grouchy, snarky, sneaky Slytherin that you are."

"And I love you," Snape said, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile, "even if you are an annoying, idealistic, meddling little Gryffindor." They kissed, and everything was well again--at least for the moment.

A letter arrived every day for the remainder of their summer vacation, delivered directly to the cottage now instead of the school, by a great horned owl, and Snape would immediately throw it into the fire. Lupin kept his promise and held his peace, although aside from his very real concern about his lover, his own sense of Gryffindor curiosity was just dying to know what the letters said; he could see that the boys were curious, too. But the four of them, by mutual unspoken agreement, pretended that the letters didn't exist, and life went on more or less normally, until it was time to go back to school.

*** 

Meanwhile, back at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had a decision to make.

"So, Sirius," Harry said over dinner one night, "what are you going to do when school starts? I mean, you and Professor Blackmore are married now, but you're not a teacher. Are you allowed to live at Hogwarts with her? Or will she still live here?" He frowned a little. "Do all the teachers live at the school? I always assumed they did, but I don't really know..."

"Most of the teachers do," Branwen replied, "but it's not required, except in the cases of the Headmaster, the Deputy Headmistress, and the Heads of the four Houses, who are expected to live at the school and look after the children." She turned to Sirius, giving him a stern look. "And it's about time you made up your mind about this, dear. You've been putting it off all summer, but Harry and I will be returning to Hogwarts next week. Albus has given you permission to share my quarters, or I can continue to live here and commute to work by Floo. Or you can rent a place in Hogsmeade near the school; I will abide by whatever decision you make, Sirius, but you must make up your mind."

Sirius slouched back in his chair and heaved a sigh, and Harry wondered why he sounded so depressed. "It would be really cool if you lived at Hogwarts, Sirius!" he said eagerly. "I could see you all the time, and not just during the holidays!"

Sirius smiled a little then. "That sounds nice, Harry, but I have to think of Hob. It wouldn't be right to leave him in an empty house by himself, and the house-elves would probably feel like he was intruding on their territory if I brought him to the school."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling disappointed. "Will you stay here, then?"

"I guess so," Sirius said unenthusiastically. "I could move to Hogsmeade, but Bran won't have time to see me during the day since she'll be teaching classes, and Floo travel is virtually instantaneous, so I had might as well remain here."

Harry looked concerned, while Branwen merely looked annoyed. "I know you don't like being cooped up here, Sirius," Harry told his godfather, "but Professor Blackmore will be coming home every night, and you're not a prisoner anymore. You can go out anytime you want, maybe even come and visit us at the school--"

"Oh, stop moping, Sirius!" Branwen said sharply. "There's no need for you to sit around feeling sorry for yourself; I know you've had a number of job offers. Or do you intend to just laze about the house like some wealthy pureblood fop? Even Lucius Malfoy managed to hold down a job!"

Sirius sat up straight and glared at his new wife. "There's no need to compare me to Lucius Malfoy!" he said indignantly.

She just smiled at him coolly. "Does that mean that you've decided to do something productive with your life?"

Sirius glared at her for another moment, then leaned back and laughed. "Sometimes I don't know whether you're my wife or my teacher, Branwen!" To Harry he said, "I guess I've been feeling a little out of sorts lately, because I don't really know what I want to do with my life."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. "Me too!"

Sirius chuckled. "Yes, you are a seventh-year now, and I suppose McGonagall and your other teachers have been telling you that you have to start thinking about your N.E.W.T.s and what sort of career you want to go into."

"Yeah, but I didn't think that you'd be having the same problem!" Harry exclaimed.

Sirius grinned. "What, because I'm an old man?" he joked. "You have to remember, Harry, I haven't held down a job for about sixteen years, ever since I was sent to Azkaban."

"You were an Auror before, right?" Harry asked. "Your name was cleared, so I'm sure you could get your old job back if you wanted it."

Sirius grimaced. "Yes, but the problem is, I'm not sure I really want it back. After being thrown into Azkaban without a trial and being hunted down as a fugitive after I escaped, I've developed something of an aversion to the Aurors. There are good people among them, like Kingsley and Tonks, but there are also people who don't really worry too much about whether their targets are guilty or innocent."

"Oh," Harry said in a subdued voice; of course Sirius would have mixed feelings about rejoining the very people who had been hunting him down not so long ago. "But that was because of Cornelius Fudge, right? Surely things are different now that Mr. Weasley is the Minister of Magic."

Sirius and Branwen exchanged a solemn look. "Things are changing, Harry," Branwen said. "But these attitudes and institutions have been in place for years, and Arthur cannot change them overnight. He's stopped the Aurors from imprisoning or killing people without a trial, but some of them have still abused their powers in smaller ways." She explained to him how the Aurors had trashed Nott Manor while searching it.

"Oh," Harry said again. Once he would have felt no sympathy for Nott, who after all was one of Draco's cronies and the son of a Death Eater. But now, having lived with the boy for two weeks, having seen him wake up screaming from a nightmare about the Death Eaters, Harry couldn't shrug it off quite so easily. "But couldn't Mr. Weasley fire them, if they're abusing their powers?"

"He reprimanded them and paid reparations to Mr. Nott," Branwen replied. "But some of those Aurors are politically well-connected, and it would cause trouble if he fired them over what most of the wizarding world would see as a minor incident."

Harry nodded, remembering what Snape had told them when they had been discussing Percy's wedding. "Professor Snape said that the Minister of Magic isn't all-powerful, that he could lose his job if he offends too many people."

Branwen smiled. "Yes, Harry, that is correct. Arthur is trying to change things for the better, but he has to move slowly."

"So what were you thinking of doing, if you don't want to become an Auror?" Harry asked his godfather.

Sirius sighed again. "I have an old friend, Cassidy Sinclair--he was in Gryffindor, a couple of years ahead of me--who's an inventor. He made that music box I gave you for your birthday, and those recording spheres that are so popular now. He modeled them after Muggle devices that didn't have a counterpart in the wizarding world. Anyway, he struck it rich a few years ago when those music boxes started selling like hotcakes, and he's offered me a job."

"But you don't want it?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "I was never much good at building things; Moony is much better at working with his hands than I am." He smiled nostalgically. "Except for my flying motorcycle; I loved tinkering with that thing. I wonder what happened to it? The last time I saw it was when I lent it to Hagrid to take you to your aunt and uncle after James and Lily were killed. I'll have to ask him what he did with it."

Branwen frowned, a distasteful look on her face. "I never did like that noisy, smelly machine. I don't see why you would need it when you have a perfectly healthy and capable Hippogriff to ride."

Sirius laughed; Branwen was remarkably open-minded, but she still held some wizardly prejudices against Muggle devices. "Because I could ride it on the ground and blend in with the Muggles if I had to. Because it's fun. And because it annoyed the hell out of my family and all the other wizards who had rigid notions of what was proper and appropriate." 

Branwen couldn't help but smile at the mischievous, boyish grin on his face. "Oh, all right, you can keep it, just as long as you don't expect me to ride it."

Sirius gave her a speculative look. "Pity; you'd look really sexy in tight jeans and a leather jacket."

Professor Blackmore had a very dangerous look in her eyes, and Harry thought he saw her hand moving towards the pocket that contained her wand. "So what sort of job do you want, Sirius?" Harry asked hastily, in an attempt to distract her.

"Yes, we are getting a little off the subject, Sirius," Branwen said in a cold voice. "I know that Arthur's offered you a position at the Ministry."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Sirius said reluctantly. "Because I was the liaison to the Japanese wizards who aided the Order of the Phoenix, he's offered me a position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Why, that's great, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. 

"Yeah, but I'd have to deal with a lot of bureaucratical nonsense and paperwork, not to mention that I'm hardly a good diplomat," Sirius complained.

"But you just said that you were the liaison to the Japanese wizards," Harry pointed out. "That's what your mission to Japan was about last year, right? It's because of you that Professor Chizuru and Master Karasu and Master Satoshi came to teach at Hogwarts. And if the tengu hadn't been there to help fight the Death Eaters, or if Miyako hadn't given me that prophecy about the Lion having to embrace the Serpent, we might have lost the war!"

Sirius looked embarrassed, and protested, "It was really Remus who did all the hard work. He negotiated with them for over a year; I just helped out a bit because he was busy teaching at Hogwarts. If I did it as a full-time occupation, I'd be sure to lose my temper at some point and offend some high-muckety-muck and start an international incident."

Branwen was drumming her fingers on the table impatiently, and Bane was beginning to get a little agitated, picking up on his mistress's mood. He glared at Sirius and cawed angrily. "I think you underestimate yourself, Sirius," Branwen said, "but Arthur also offered you another position--to head up the Werewolf Support Services."

"But that would be perfect!" Harry said excitedly. "Since Professor Lupin is your friend and all! Don't you want to help other werewolves like him?"

Sirius looked a bit shamefaced. "Well, of course, but I'm not the type to work behind a desk, and it's a dead-end job. Nobody wants that position, the Ministry treats it as a joke--"

"It's true that under Cornelius Fudge's administration it was given only token funding and support," Branwen interrupted. "But you know that things will be different under Arthur! He's already given the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program full funding, and pushed through the equal rights bill. He'll see to it that you have the support you need."

"It'll still involve a lot of paperwork and pencil-pushing," Sirius grumbled.

"Sirius Black!" Branwen shouted, in the tone of voice she used when dealing with a troublesome student. "The werewolves, your best friend among them, risked their lives to fight the Death Eaters alongside us; two of them were killed in the battle! Are you telling me that their courage and sacrifice are not worth the inconvenience of a little paperwork?!"

Sirius hung his head, flushing with shame. "I didn't mean it that way," he muttered.

"I know it's not the sort of job you're accustomed to," Branwen said in a calmer voice. "And I know that dealing with the Ministry makes you uncomfortable since they've been your enemy for so many years. It will be hard and frustrating work, there's no doubt about it. You will be dealing with bigots who still see the werewolves as less than human, no matter what decree the Ministry issues, and yes, there will be paperwork to deal with. But you have a chance to make a difference here, and do some real good! For the first time in wizarding history, the werewolves have been given favorable press and regarded as heroes, but people are fickle and their memories are short. There will never be a better chance to get the werewolves accepted as full-fledged members of society, and if we don't seize this opportunity now, it may be lost forever."

Sirius now looked grave, and a little pale. "But...that's a huge responsibility, Branwen. What if I screw things up?"

She smiled at him with affection and sympathy, but no mercy. "It's time for you to grow up, dear. Do you think that Harry wasn't afraid he'd fail when he took on the Dark Lord?"

"Ouch," Sirius said, wincing. "Guess I'm not much of a godfather, when you have to hold up my godson as an example to remind me to be responsible."

"You're a great godfather, Sirius," Harry said loyally, and Sirius smiled at him.

"If you really don't want the job," Branwen continued, "I won't force you to take it. But don't pass up on it just because you're afraid of failure. You could do a great deal of good in any of those positions--Auror, foreign liaison, head of Werewolf Support." She paused for a moment. "Well, I can't imagine how society would benefit from you building music boxes and magical trinkets, but if you really wanted that job, I wouldn't stand in your way. But you must do _something_ with your life, Sirius!"

Sirius sat up straight, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. "You're right, Branwen," he admitted. "I bet Moony would like it if I took that job, wouldn't he?"

"I'm sure he would be very proud of you," Branwen said.

"He suffered a lot, didn't he?" Sirius asked, a thoughtful look on his face. "All those years I was in Azkaban, and after he lost his job at Hogwarts." He flushed again. "Because of me."

"Yes, he did," Branwen replied quietly. "But he didn't suffer nearly so much as some of the other werewolves. He had parents who loved him, and even if he didn't always have a job, he at least had a roof over his head and enough to eat. Not all the werewolves can claim as much."

"I could help make sure that none of them suffer like that again," Sirius said, a determined look on his face.

"It won't be easy," Branwen cautioned. "The human wizards, particularly the purebloods, will resist your efforts. Even some of the werewolves might resist your efforts; they're very suspicious, for good reason, and you'll have to work hard to win their trust."

"It should help that my best friend is a werewolf," Sirius said, then suddenly grinned. "And compared to fighting Voldemort, how bad can it be?"

Harry grinned back at him, relieved to see that his godfather had cheered up, and Branwen smiled also, but she knew that in some ways, defeating Voldemort had been the easy part. Not to belittle Harry's courage or the sacrifices of those who had died, but it would take a lifetime, maybe more, to undo the prejudices that had brought the Dark Lord to power. But she saw no need to dampen Sirius's spirits right now, when he was trying to put his life back together again--as they all were, really; no one had survived the war unscathed. They would have to take things one step at a time, and this was a good first step.

*** 

The day before school was to start, Dylan found Theo sitting at the desk in their bedroom, frowning as he stared down at five runestones laid out in a cross pattern on a white handkerchief. "What are you doing, Theo?" he asked.

"Oh, hi Dylan," Theodore said, looking up with a slightly distracted look on his face. "I was just playing around with the runestones Blaise gave me for my birthday."

"So what do they say?" Dylan asked with a grin. "Are you going to inherit a fortune or meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger? I don't think Blaise would like that last one very much!"

Theodore smiled, still looking a little distracted. "No, the runes don't give answers that precise." He touched the stone that formed the left arm of the cross, which was engraved with a symbol that looked like an "H" with a slanted crossbar. "This stone represents my past; the rune is Hagall, or hail, which signifies limitations and obstacles, forces beyond one's control."

Dylan nodded. "The war was certainly something beyond our control."

Theodore touched the center stone. "This one represents the present. The rune is Jara, or harvest." It resembled two arrows, interlocked and facing in opposite directions. It stands for change and cycles, and can represent inner turmoil."

"Our lives have changed a lot recently," Dylan agreed. 

Theodore pointed at the stone directly below it. "This one represents obstacles in my way."

"I recognize that one," Dylan said. "It's a protective rune." It resembled a very simple, stylized tree.

Theodore nodded. "Eolh, protection, but it's reversed, which means danger."

Dylan frowned; Theodore had always regarded Divination class as a waste of time, but he seemed to be taking this all very seriously. He pointed at the top stone of the cross, which was engraved with a diamond-shaped symbol, with ends of the lines forming the bottom of the diamond extending down into an upside-down "V" shape. "What about that one?"

"That represents the help available to me. The rune is Othel, which stands for home, inheritances, ancestry."

"Your inheritance as the Nott heir?" Dylan guessed. "Or maybe it just means us, your family. You know we'd do anything to help you, Theo."

Theodore smiled, although he still looked grave. "I know," he said softly. "Thank you, Dylan."

"And the last stone?" Dylan asked. The rune resembled a check mark.

Theodore frowned again. "That one symbolizes the future: Lagu, water, which represents emotion and intuition, but it's reversed, which signifies weakness and betrayal. It's not a good omen, obviously."

"Wow, you really studied up on this," Dylan said, trying to make light of the matter.

"Yes, after Blaise gave me the runestones, I read up on them," Theodore replied, still looking grave. "We use some of the same runes in spellcasting, like the protective circles we drew in Blackmore's class, but their Divination meanings are slightly different." He frowned down at the stones again. "Danger, betrayal...it's not a very auspicious reading."

"C'mon, aren't you taking this too seriously?" Dylan asked. "You're starting to sound like Professor Trelawney! I thought you didn't believe in Divination!"

"Oh, I believe in Divination," Theodore said with a wry smile. "I just don't believe in Professor Trelawney! And I never thought that I had any talent for that type of magic, but...I cast the stones three times, Dylan, and I drew the same stones in exactly the same order all three times."

Dylan felt a shiver run down his spine. "Five stones out of...how many are there in a set?"

"Twenty-five."

"Hermione would probably be better than me at calculating the odds of that happening three times in a row, but I would guess that they're not very high." Dylan looked down at the runestones. "This is starting to freak me out a little, Theo."

"This is seriously freaking _me_ out!" Theodore exclaimed.

Before Dylan could reply, the door opened and Lupin called down from the top of the staircase, "Could you two help me get dinner on?"

"Yes, sir!" Theodore called back, and hastily swept the runestones off the desk and put them away.

"Thanks!" Lupin said, and headed back to the kitchen.

"Don't you want to ask Remus or the Professor about what the runes said?" Dylan asked.

Theodore shook his head. "No, they've both got enough to worry about right now, and neither of them specialize in Divination, anyway. And I'm certainly not going to ask Trelawney for advice!"

"My aunt used to have the Sight," Dylan said. "I could write and ask her for advice."

"Well, I guess that would be okay," Theodore said, looking a little relieved. "But don't make a big deal about it."

"I'll keep it casual," Dylan assured him, and they headed upstairs to help Lupin with dinner.

*** 

The next day, Snape and Lupin saw their foster sons off at the train station. Lupin gave them both a hug and said, "We'll see you at school."

"How are you getting to school?" Dylan asked curiously. He had never seen any of the teachers ride the train, although Damien had told him that Lupin had taken the train to Hogwarts along with the students the first year he had started teaching there.

"Severus and I will Apparate back home and then take the Floo to school," Lupin replied.

"Wouldn't it be easier if we all just went through the Floo together?" Dylan wondered.

Lupin smiled. "Yes, but the Floo Network can't accommodate hundreds of students arriving at once, and it wouldn't be fair to give the teachers' children special privileges," he said gently.

"Oh, of course," Dylan said, feeling a little stupid. "I didn't think."

"Besides," Lupin continued, still smiling, "I always thought it was fun riding the train to school with my friends, getting caught up on what everyone was doing over the summer."

Snape didn't have the same fond memories of riding the Hogwarts Express, mainly because he'd never had any real friends in school. "The school could probably arrange for the students to take the Floo in shifts," he said sourly, "but the journey by train and then boat or carriage has become a school tradition, and God forbid we break with tradition."

"Don't be such a grump, Sev," Lupin laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

"Not in public, Lupin!" Snape complained. 

Lupin ignored him and hugged the boys again. "Take care, now."

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin, we'll be seeing them again in a few hours," Snape said in a huffy tone. "There's no need to get all maudlin about it." He handed the boys small, heavy pouches filled with coins, judging by the metallic clinking sound they made. "To buy something to eat on the train," he said gruffly, then gave each of them an awkward pat on the shoulder as Lupin grinned.

"Thank you, Professor," the boys chorused.

Snape just grunted in response, looking a little embarrassed. "Better go board the train before it leaves without you," was all he said, but Lupin winked at them behind Snape's back.

As the boys turned to leave, they heard someone call out, "Dylan! Theo!" Allegra Zabini came running up to them, with Blaise following at a more leisurely pace.

"Hi," Dylan said with a smile. "Do you want to sit with us?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement.

"Too bad," Blaise joked, "I was planning on stowing her in the luggage compartment."

She stuck out her tongue at her brother, and the boys laughed. They headed for the train, and saw Narcissa Malfoy kissing and hugging her son goodbye.

"I'll be fine, Mum," Draco protested, turning a little red. "Please don't make a scene."

Narcissa gave him one last hug and released him, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Don't forget to write, dear!"

"Yes, Mum," Draco said obediently. He started walking towards the train, then stopped as he came face-to-face with Dylan and the others. He just stood there for a moment, looking uncertain of his welcome.

Dylan thought that he looked young and vulnerable, a far cry from the arrogant Draco Malfoy who had lorded it over everyone in Slytherin. "Hi, Draco," he said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go find a compartment before they're all full." Draco smiled, his eyes full of gratitude and relief, and boarded the train with them.

As they passed through the crowded compartments, many of the girls called out greetings to Dylan.

"Hi, Dylan!"

"How was your summer?"

"Come sit with us!"

He smiled and waved as he passed by, but didn't stop. "Hi, nice to see you, my summer was fine. I'd love to sit with you, but there doesn't seem to be enough room for my friends."

"Boy, you sure are popular, Dylan!" Allegra exclaimed.

"It's like traveling with a Quidditch star or a member of the Weird Sisters," Blaise laughed. "I half expect people to start asking for his autograph!"

"Hey, over here!" Damien shouted, waving at them from the next compartment. "I think there's an empty compartment in the back."

The very last compartment was empty, and they had just taken their seats when Crabbe and Goyle walked in. "There you guys are!" Crabbe said. "We've been looking all over for you!"

Draco looked startled. Of course he and his henchmen had always shared a compartment, but now that his father was dead and disgraced, he had not expected Crabbe and Goyle to continue hanging around with him, especially since their mothers had ordered them not to. "I thought you didn't want to be associated with me anymore," he said stiffly.

"Aw, that's our mums' doing," Goyle said sheepishly. "Sorry about that. They're worried we won't be able to get jobs and stuff when we graduate if people think we're Death Eaters."

"Yeah, we really wanted to come to your birthday party," Crabbe told Dylan and Theodore with a rueful sigh. "It would've been a lot more fun than visiting my aunt and uncle and my snot-nosed cousins, and it would've been nice to see Professor Lupin again."

"The party was lots of fun!" Allegra informed them cheerfully. "You two must be Crabbe and Goyle; my brother says you're as big as mountain trolls, but I think he's exaggera--ow!" She glared at Blaise, who had just pinched her and was casting a nervous glance at his two brawny classmates. "What was that for?!"

"Remember what Professor Snape said about being discreet and thinking before you speak?" he asked through gritted teeth. 

"Is this your sister, Zabini?" Goyle asked, sounding curious but not offended.

"Unfortunately, yes," Blaise sighed.

"You play for the Quidditch team, don't you?" Allegra asked eagerly. "I remember seeing you in that match you won against Gryffindor."

Crabbe and Goyle preened a little at the admiring tone in her voice, forgetting all about the mountain troll comment. "Yes, we are," Crabbe said proudly.

"I want to be a Quidditch player too!" Allegra said. "How come there aren't any girls on the Slytherin team? Is it against the rules or something?"

"Uh..." Crabbe said, looking at Goyle. Goyle shrugged, looking equally confused.

"There's nothing against it in the rule book," Dylan said. "And all the other teams have girls on them. I don't know why there aren't any on the Slytherin team."

"That's because most of the Slytherin families are very conservative and old-fashioned," Serafina said in her cool, emotionless voice as she walked into the compartment. "They don't think it's ladylike for girls to play Quidditch, and the girls don't want to ruin their chances of making a good marriage by having potential husbands--or their potential husbands' families--think that they're rowdy and unladylike."

"That's dumb!" Allegra declared.

"I didn't say it wasn't," Serafina said calmly. "But that's how most of the Slytherin families think. Is it okay if I sit here? All the other compartments are full."

"Sure, come sit by me, Sera!" Allegra said. Serafina looked surprised to hear the younger girl call her by her nickname, which was hardly ever used by anyone but her mother and Theo, but she sat next to Allegra and smiled just a little. "Well, I'm going to try out for the team when I'm old enough," Allegra informed everyone. "It doesn't matter if people think I'm unladylike, because my family's too poor to arrange a 'good marriage' for me, anyway."

Draco raised his eyebrows and said, "She's very, um...blunt...isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Blaise sighed.

The train started to pull away from the station, and Allegra looked out through the window and waved at her parents who were waving good-bye from the platform. She also saw Narcissa Malfoy waving at the train. "Your mum's waving good-bye, Draco," she said. 

"It's so embarrassing," he groaned. "She treats me like a little kid!" But he waved to her nevertheless--"Just to humor her," he claimed.

"Your dads are waving, too, Dylan, Theo," Allegra informed them cheerfully, if not entirely accurately. The two boys looked out the window and saw Lupin waving to them as Snape stood there scowling at him, his arms crossed over his chest. Dylan and Theo grinned at each other, then waved back at Lupin, who kept waving until the platform faded from sight.

Just then, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny ran into the compartment, panting and out of breath.

"It's all your fault we were late!" Ginny scolded her brother. "We nearly missed the train!"

"It's not my fault!" Ron protested. "Fred and George hid my prefect's badge, and it took me all morning to find it! And Harry was late, too!"

"Sirius took forever getting ready this morning," Harry said apologetically. "He's a little nervous about starting his new job; Professor Blackmore threatened to send him out in his birthday suit if he couldn't make up his mind what to wear--"

Hermione cleared her throat and her three friends looked up and finally noticed that the compartment was occupied by the Slytherins.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said. "I didn't know this compartment was taken. Um..." He looked around and saw that this was obviously the last compartment on the train; he glanced back nervously, as if wondering whether they should go back the way they came.

"All the other compartments are full," Hermione said calmly. "Is it okay if we share this one with you?"

"Of course!" Dylan said happily, and moved over to make room for her. She blushed a little and sat next to him while Ron, Ginny, and Harry took the remaining empty seats. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but they all fit. Hermione and Dylan didn't seem to mind being pressed up close against each other, and neither did Theodore and Blaise. Some of the others did, though.

"Oof!" Ron said. "Your elbow is in my ribs, Ginny!"

"I think you're taking up more than your fair share of the seat," his sister grumbled, but she moved away from him a little, which put her closer to Harry. "I'm not squashing you, am I, Harry?"

"Not at all," he replied, with a rather silly grin on his face. Meanwhile, Allegra gave up her seat and perched on her brother's lap to make a little more room.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco to see if he would object to this Gryffindor intrusion, but he just shrugged, so they smiled shyly at Hermione, who smiled back at them pleasantly.

"How was your summer?" she asked politely.

"Pretty good," Goyle replied. "Me and Crabbe were working on our Patronus Charms...oops!" He hastily clapped a hand over his mouth, remembering that Hermione was a prefect and the students weren't supposed to be practicing magic outside of the school.

But to his surprise, Hermione just smiled at him. "I heard how you used your Patronus Charms to save Professor Lupin from the Dementor on the battlefield. It's lucky you were there to protect him."

Goyle looked relieved. "Yeah, well, it's a good thing that Professor Lupin taught us that spell, huh? I guess he knew we'd need it someday."

"We've been practicing drawing runes, too," Crabbe said, steering the conversation towards a safer topic. "We've gotten a lot better."

"That's great," Hermione said.

"Did I hear you say that Sirius has a new job?" Draco asked Harry.

"Yeah, I guess he didn't get a chance to tell you and your mum yet," Harry replied. "He's taken a position as Head of Werewolf Support Services at the Ministry of Magic."

"That's great!" exclaimed Goyle.

"That's so cool!" agreed Crabbe. "Do you think he can get us a job when we graduate?"

"At the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"No," Crabbe said, then clarified, "I mean, yeah, but in Werewolf Support."

"That's a dead-end position," Draco protested. "No one wants that job; couldn't Weasley find a better position for a hero of the war?"

"It was a dead-end position," Harry said, echoing Blackmore's words, "but not anymore. Mr. Weasley cares about the werewolves; he's a friend of Lupin's, after all."

"Hmm," said Draco thoughtfully. "You're right; he did start the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program, and made sure the werewolves were given equal rights after he became Minister."

"Say, Draco," Goyle asked curiously, "how come we purebloods are supposed to hate the werewolves, anyway?"

"Because they turn into vicious, mindless beasts and try to either kill people or infect them during the full moon?" Draco said sarcastically.

"But Lupin's a great guy," Goyle protested, "and werewolves aren't dangerous if they take the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Professor Lupin's not a beast!" Crabbe said vehemently, clenching his fists.

"Calm down, Crabbe," Draco said, looking a little alarmed. "I didn't say that I thought Lupin was a beast; I was just explaining to Goyle how most purebloods think." Crabbe relaxed. 

"The potion was a recent invention," Dylan explained, "and it will take awhile for people to get over their old fears and prejudices. I think the purebloods wouldn't hate and fear the werewolves so much if all they did was kill people; what really scares them is that lycanthropy is contagious." His voice turned scornful. "They don't want to taint their precious pure blood with the blood of a beast." He tried not to think about the fact that his father had murdered people in his crusade to keep the wizard race "pure".

"That's dumb!" said Crabbe, and Goyle nodded emphatically. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were a little startled by how vigorously the pair were defending Lupin, and the werewolves in general, but Hermione just grinned. Draco felt uncomfortable as he remembered how he had taunted and insulted Lupin all through third year and most of sixth year.

"Things are starting to change," Harry said. "The werewolves are heroes of the war, so Professor Blackmore said that now is the best time to get them accepted into society."

"And Dumbledore's hired another werewolf to teach at Hogwarts," Dylan added.

"What?!" Draco exclaimed, and the others looked equally shocked. "Who?"

"Lukas Bleddri, the leader of the werewolf pack that fought during the final battle," Dylan replied.

"That's so cool!" Goyle said enthusiastically. "Two werewolves at Hogwarts! What's he teaching?"

"He's taking over Master Karasu's Physical Defense class, and he said that Dumbledore wants him to teach something called Interspecies Relations," Dylan replied.

"That's the first I've heard of this," Draco said.

"Theo and I only heard about it because Master Bleddri stopped by the cottage to talk about it with Professor Lupin," Dylan explained. "He wasn't sure if he wanted the job, but Lupin persuaded him to take it."

"Maybe Dumbledore's been keeping it quiet because he knew the parents might object," Theodore said.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Draco agreed. "Present everyone with a fait accompli--if he'd announced it ahead of time, it would have given the parents time to get organized and petition the school governors to block his hiring of Bleddri."

"Fate what?" Goyle asked, scratching his head.

Draco sighed. "It means that it would have been easy for the parents to keep Dumbledore from hiring the werewolf, but it'll be harder for them to get him fired once he's already teaching at Hogwarts. Hmm, the old man is smarter than he looks--that's the sort of move a Slytherin would pull."

Ron and Harry were a little annoyed by Draco's less than respectful attitude towards the Headmaster, but were distracted when the food cart arrived. They all bought treats--Ron was especially happy to be able to pay for his own snacks instead of letting Harry treat him--except for Blaise, who looked embarrassed, and Allegra who eyed the cart wistfully. Harry saw that look and said, "Would you like a Chocolate Frog? I've got too many, anyway."

"Yes, too much candy is bad for your teeth, Harry," Hermione said sternly, but she winked at him when Allegra wasn't looking.

"Thank you!" Allegra said, happily accepting the piece of candy and opening the wrapper. "It's a Dumbledore," she said, giggling. "He winked at me!" Blaise still looked embarrassed, but he smiled at Harry as he rumpled his sister's hair fondly.

"Don't mess up my hair, Blaise," she complained.

Theodore and Dylan had of course intended to share their snacks with Blaise and Allegra, but they were surprised by Harry's gesture, Theodore in particular. He gave Harry a puzzled, thoughtful look. "Here, I got some of these for us to share," he said, passing out Pumpkin Pasties and Cauldron Cakes; Dylan had bought cups of iced pumpkin juice for the four of them.

"Thank you!" Allegra said, looking delighted. "That's really nice of you."

"Thanks," Blaise said, flushing a little. "You didn't have to, my mum packed a lunch..."

"Oh, don't be a git, Blaise," Theodore said. "We always share; it's no big deal." He grinned and added, "If you want to pay me back, you can help me with my History of Magic homework when classes start; I always fall asleep in that class."

"Besides," Dylan said cheerfully, "Professor Snape gave us money for snacks, and he was very generous. No sense letting it go to waste." 

Blaise didn't argue any further, and they ate their snacks and made small talk--or tried to make small talk as Allegra peppered the Slytherins with questions about Quidditch and classes and dorm life.

"I wonder who my roommate will be?" she said. "I hope it's someone nice. Do you know which Slytherin girls are entering Hogwarts this year?"

"You won't know who will be a Slytherin until the Sorting Hat places everyone in a House," Hermione told her gently.

"Oh, Daddy says all Zabinis are Slytherins," Allegra said dismissively.

"It's sort of a tradition among the old Slytherin families," Dylan explained. "The children almost always enter the same House as their parents; the Rosiers have all been Slytherins from the founder of our clan down to me."

"Same with the Malfoys," Draco agreed.

"Although there are a few exceptions--like Harry's godfather," Dylan continued.

"Literally the black sheep of the family," Draco laughed.

"So who will my new housemates be?" Allegra asked eagerly.

"Let's see," Draco said, thinking it over. "I know Pansy's brother is starting school this year, and I think Malcolm Baddock's sister is, too..."

Meanwhile, Ron stared at the Zabinis thoughtfully as he munched on a pasty. He remembered what it had been like to wear secondhand robes and have no spending money. Harry had always generously shared treats with him, of course, beginning with their very first trip on the Hogwarts Express, but he remembered feeling a little ashamed of accepting that generosity--as Blaise apparently was, too. He didn't know much about the Zabinis, but he vaguely recalled hearing that they had once been a wealthy and powerful family, but had fallen on hard times in recent years. He noticed that Blaise's robes looked a little faded, although Allegra's looked new, and wondered if Draco had ever taunted him about that. 

It probably wasn't easy being poor in snobbish Slytherin House, and Ron was suddenly very glad that he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle no longer seemed as snooty and arrogant as they had before, though--in fact, they were almost downright human! Ron sighed; he was glad the war was over, but things had been a lot easier when he was able to simply hate the Slytherins, before they had started showing up at birthday parties and sleepovers, before one of his best friends had started dating one...

Ginny had also noticed the similarities between her family and the Zabinis, but she didn't suffer any inner conflicts about it. "That was a nice thing you did, Harry," she said softly, and smiled at him. 

"It was nothing," Harry muttered, blushing a little, but he was suddenly glad of the offhand impulse that had caused him to offer the candy to the Slytherin girl.

It was a long train ride, and after lunch, several of the older students were yawning; Crabbe and Goyle leaned back against their seats and started to doze off. Dylan used the cramped quarters as an excuse to unobtrusively stretch his arm out along the back of the seat behind Hermione, and she yawned, blinked sleepily, and almost unthinkingly slouched against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Allegra, however, was much too excited to feel sleepy, and immediately noticed this. "Dylan!" she exclaimed in a loud voice. "Is Hermione your girlfriend?"

Crabbe and Goyle immediately woke up, their eyes going wide and round. Hermione sat upright with a jerk, her face turning red.

"Y-you?" Crabbe stammered.

"And Granger?!" Goyle finished.

Dylan just grinned. "Well, we're good friends, and I like her a lot, but I haven't officially asked her to be my girlfriend yet."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Allegra asked, and Dylan laughed.

He gave Hermione his most charming smile and asked, "Will you be my girlfriend, Hermione?"

"Silly," she said, still blushing, and kissed him on the cheek. "I thought I already was."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Dylan said with a grin.

"You?" Crabbe repeated, still sounding stunned.

"And Granger?" Goyle finished.

"Is there an echo in here or something?" Theo asked grumpily. He still wasn't thrilled about his foster brother's romance, although he had accepted the inevitable.

"Are you guys gonna go public?" Crabbe wanted to know. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor together--won't that cause trouble at school?"

"The war's over," Dylan pointed out. "There's no reason why a Slytherin and a Gryffindor can't be friends--or more than friends. I don't have to worry about the Death Eaters hurting my friends and family anymore, and I don't care what anyone else thinks. Besides, Professor Lupin's a Gryffindor, and he and Professor Snape are together."

"That's true," Crabbe acknowledged.

"Besides," Ginny added, "Professor Blackmore and the Sorting Hat kept saying that the Houses have to cooperate more."

"That means we can be friends now?" Goyle asked Hermione shyly.

"Of course!" Hermione said, smiling at Goyle and Crabbe warmly, although Ron looked horrified, and Harry only slightly less so. "I'd like that a lot."

"Let's all be friends!" Allegra said, clapping her hands together excitedly. "All of us--you and me and Blaise and Theo and Dylan and Draco and Harry and Ron and--" Now Draco looked just as horrified as Ron and Harry.

"Are you sure she's a Slytherin?" Theodore muttered to Blaise as Allegra prattled on.

Blaise sighed, a pained look on his face. "She's definitely a Zabini, but I have no idea who she takes after. I swear no one else in my family is like this!"

Damien just laughed. "You two have to go public!" he urged Dylan. "It's your civic duty to free up the rest of the female student population for us single guys! Do you know how hard it is to get a date when all the girls are holding out in hope of you asking them out?"

Dylan grinned and said to Hermione, "Well, I guess we'll have to do it for Damien's sake, so that he won't have to spend another year dateless."

"I hope all those girls don't get mad at me for taking you away from them," Hermione joked nervously. She was used to being teased for being "brainy" or for things like S.P.E.W., and usually brushed off those insults without being bothered by them, but the thought of facing the wrath of nearly every girl in the school was a little unsettling.

"Don't worry, Hermione!" Damien said with a good-natured smile. "I promise I'll do my best to console all those heartbroken girls!"

Hermione laughed in spite of her worries. The red-haired Slytherin boy was actually quite handsome and charming, but he had been overshadowed by his more popular friend for the past few years. Maybe the girls would begin to notice him now, and not spend too much time bemoaning the fact that Dylan was no longer available...at least, Hermione hoped so.

Serafina looked up from the book she was reading and regarded her companions with a mildly interested yet slightly detached look, like a scientist observing a laboratory experiment. A small smile crossed her lips for a moment, then she looked down at her book again.

It was dark by the time the train pulled up at Hogsmeade Station. "Firs' years here! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid called, waving a lantern in the air.

"Go ahead, Allegra," Blaise told his sister, who was looking excited but a little nervous as well. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, "You'll be fine, and I'll see you at the Great Hall in a little while." 

"Okay," she said, and ran off to join the other first-years. As the older children headed towards the stagecoaches, Goyle and Crabbe stopped in their tracks so suddenly that Damien, who had been walking behind them, ran right into them.

"Oof!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter with you two--" Then he looked up and saw what had caught their attention--the Thestrals--and stopped and gawked as well. "Merlin's Beard!" he shouted, turning a little pale as he saw the skeletal, bat-winged horses for the first time; Damien, along with everyone else in their little group, could finally see the Thestrals since they had all witnessed death during the final battle. "Those...those...things...have been pulling the coaches all this time?!"

"I told you they were nasty creatures," Theodore said.

"Whoa!" shouted Goyle.

"They're so cool!" Crabbe said enthusiastically.

"What?!" Damien exclaimed, and all the other children turned to stare at Crabbe and Goyle incredulously, except for Serafina, whose face showed only its usual cool indifference. "They're the ugliest things I've ever seen!"

"I think they're really neat," Goyle said, sounding a little offended. 

He reached out as if to pet the nearest Thestral, and Draco shouted, "Stop that, you idiot! What if it bites your hand off?!"

"Don't call me an idiot, Malfoy," Goyle said, scowling at his former leader, who was reminded that he no longer held any power over his Slytherin classmates.

"It might not be a good idea to touch them, though," Hermione said in a placating voice. "They do have sharp teeth, and they're not used to being handled by anyone but Hagrid."

Goyle looked disappointed, but withdrew his hand. "Do you think Hagrid will cover Thestrals in class again this year?" he asked. "It would be a lot more fun now that we can see them."

"Speak for yourself," Draco muttered, but under his breath.

"Even if he wasn't planning to, maybe he would if you asked him," Hermione suggested.

"They're fascinating creatures," said a dreamy voice behind them, and they turned to see Luna Lovegood approaching. "And they're not dangerous; we rode them once at the end of fourth year--well, it would have been your fifth year."

"You got to ride them?" Crabbe asked enviously. "When?"

"When Harry, Ronald, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, and I went to the Ministry to rescue Harry's godfather," Luna replied, still in that dreamy-sounding voice. "Only he didn't really need rescuing after all; it was a trap set by the Death Eaters."

"Oh, when Dad got arrested the first time," Goyle said, not sounding very upset about it. "So what was it like?"

"It was fun," Luna said.

"That's not what I'd call it," Ron muttered.

"Let's go before the coaches leave without us," Draco said impatiently.

They couldn't all fit into one carriage, so they had to split up, and Ron, Harry, and Ginny somehow found themselves sharing a coach with Crabbe, Goyle, and Luna while Hermione rode with Dylan and his friends.

"Abandoning us for those Slytherins," Ron said darkly.

"Oh, don't be an idiot, Ron," Ginny said. "We'll see her at the castle in a little while."

Harry said nothing, but privately he agreed with Ron. It wasn't so much that he minded her dating Dylan (although he wasn't that happy about it, either), but the three of them had been best friends since first year, and always shared the train and carriage ride to Hogwarts. Maybe he was being silly, but it hurt a little to have their triad broken up for the first time. 

Meanwhile, Goyle and Crabbe seemed oblivious to the awkward silence between the Gryffindors as they chattered happily with Luna about Thestrals.

*** 

Dylan and Hermione caused an uproar when they walked into the Great Hall holding hands; Dylan had decided that since they were "going public," there was no time like the present. Although he was studious like his mother, he still had a touch of his father's dramatic flair, and was quite aware that every eye in the room was focused on them, and he enjoyed the attention even if Hermione did not. He walked her over to the Gryffindor table, gallantly pulled out a chair for her, then bowed over her hand and kissed it in a courtly fashion as Hermione turned bright red and her housemates--both male and female--watched slack-jawed. Then he calmly sauntered over to the Slytherin table to join his own housemates.

"Y-y-you?" Parvati stammered.

"And Dylan?" Lavender wailed.

From the head table, the teachers watched with varying degrees of shock and amusement. McGonagall just raised her eyebrows and said, "Oh my," while Hagrid sat there with his mouth hanging open, stunned into speechlessness.

"He takes after his father, doesn't he?" Branwen said fondly.

"Indeed," Snape replied sourly.

"They make such a cute couple, don't they?" Lupin asked sweetly, and Snape glared at him.

"They certainly do," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses.

"Oh my!" Flitwick laughed, looking surprised but pleased. "He certainly does know how to make an entrance! A pairing I never imagined, but they are well-suited to each other, come to think of it."

"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin?" Hagrid asked incredulously, having regained his voice. "Our little Hermione and the son of a Death Eater?" Then he turned a little pale as Branwen, Bane, and Snape all skewered him with equally baleful and dangerous looks.

Even Flitwick frowned at him, although he was nowhere near as intimidating as the other three. "Here now," he said reprovingly, "Dylan is a good lad, and a good student. Both he and Miss Granger share a love of knowledge, so as I said, they're well-suited to each other."

"Dylan risked his life and his mother sacrificed her own fighting the Death Eaters," Snape growled, "and this is the thanks they get?"

"Dylan should not be held responsible for his father's crimes," Branwen said sternly, as if lecturing a student. "It is something of a miracle that he chose to fight on our side despite the hostility and prejudiced remarks he has endured his entire life." Her expression softened a little as she looked at Snape. "We can thank Severus for that, I think." Then her face and voice turned stern again. "I am surprised at your attitude, Hagrid. I would have thought that you would be the last person to judge someone on appearances, considering your own background. You should not be surprised that Hermione chose to befriend Dylan--did she not stand by you when that Skeeter woman made your parentage public?"

Hagrid hung his head, looking like a chastened student, and mumbled an apology. Snape was still annoyed, but he took some pleasure in hearing Branwen sharpen her tongue on the Gamekeeper; she had honed it on himself often enough, both as a student and an adult.

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Pansy was demanding of Dylan, "Since when are you and Granger an item?!"

"Since this summer," Dylan replied calmly. "But we've been friends ever since my first year at Hogwarts."

"But you never said anything about it!" Pansy protested.

"Of course not," Dylan said. "If the Death Eaters had found out that I was friends with one of Harry Potter's friends, they might have hurt her--or me and my family."

"What's so special about her, anyway?" pouted Yvonne, who was one of Dylan's yearmates. She was very pretty, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and delicate features, but Dylan found her flighty, shallow, and completely uninteresting compared to Hermione.

"She's smart, she's brave, and she doesn't care what anyone else thinks of her," Dylan explained patiently. "She does what she thinks is right even if people make fun of her or get mad at her, or even threaten her."

"Are the Slytherin girls not good enough for you?" Pansy complained.

"I like her for herself, not because of what House she's in," Dylan said softly, then smiled at her. "It's okay to be friends with people in other Houses now, isn't it? You and Millicent are friends with Lavender and Parvati, after all."

"Um, well, that's true," Pansy admitted, looking confused. She frowned as she tried to come up with a reasonable objection to Dylan's new romance.

"And she stood up to the Gryffindor boys when they called me a Death Eater," Dylan continued. "She believed in me, and in Professor Snape."

Pansy calmed down, and several of the other Slytherin girls looked thoughtful, although Yvonne was still pouting. "Well...I suppose it's okay, then," Pansy said reluctantly.

Millicent seemed to be taking the news with surprising equanimity. "I was wondering why you never really dated anyone during the three years you've been going to school here, when almost any girl in the school would love to go out with you. You were pining after Granger all this time." Dylan blushed a little, and Millicent grinned. "That's kind of romantic, actually."

Pansy gave her friend a suspicious look, then let out a high-pitched squeal as she caught sight of something glittering on Millicent's hand. "Ow!" Damien said, wincing as he clapped his hands over his ears. "I think you just shattered my eardrum!"

Pansy ignored him and grabbed Millicent's hand. "A ring! Did Miles give that to you?"

Dylan was temporarily forgotten as a crowd of Slytherin girls clustered around Millicent, who smiled smugly and held out her hand so that they could admire her ring--a silver Claddagh ring set with a small, heart-shaped emerald.

"It's so pretty!" Pansy gushed. "And in Slytherin colors, too!"

"Is it an engagement ring?" Yvonne asked excitedly.

"We're not engaged yet," Millicent said, "but it's a promise ring. He's off training with the Falmouth Falcons--"

"He's going to be a professional Quidditch player?" Yvonne exclaimed.

"Well, he's apprenticing as a reserve player right now," Millicent said modestly, but she looked very proud. "He has to go through training before they'll put him in a real match. Anyway, he gave me this ring 'to keep me in your mind so you won't forget about me' were his exact words."

The girls squealed and sighed, and Damien said, "Huh! I didn't know Bletchley could be so smooth! Hmm...I'll have to remember that line." Dylan was just pleased that the girls' attention had been diverted away from him.

Back at the Gryffindor table, Hermione had just finished explaining to Lavender and Parvati why she and Dylan had kept their friendship secret up until now. "So he was protecting you from the Death Eaters," Lavender sighed. "He's so brave!"

Suddenly Parvati's eyes focused on Hermione's silver charm bracelet, and she noticed the tiny silver rose charm on it. "That rose wasn't on there before!" she said almost accusingly. "You said your mum gave you that bracelet for Christmas, but it was from Dylan, wasn't it?"

Hermione blushed. "Yes, but I couldn't tell anyone it was from him. That was why I left the rose charm off until now, in case someone noticed and put two and two together." She added in a flattering tone, "You have very sharp eyes, Parvati."

Parvati preened for a moment, then looked over at the Slytherin table and sighed mournfully. "Oh well," she sighed. "He was bound to choose a girlfriend someday, and I didn't think I had much of a chance with him anyway, since I thought Malfoy wouldn't let him date a Gryffindor." Just then, Damien caught her eye, and grinned and winked at her flirtatiously. Parvati giggled, cheering up slightly. She quickly looked away, then cast a discreet sidelong glance back at him; Lavender followed suit. Damien waved at them, still grinning, and the girls burst into giggles.

"You know, he is kind of cute..." Lavender said speculatively.

"He chases after anything in a skirt," Parvati said, but she giggled again and waved back at him.

Hermione sighed with relief, as did Seamus Finnigan, for different reasons. Dylan had virtually monopolized the attention of the female students for the past few years; now that he was no longer available, they might start looking at other suitors more favorably. Seamus smiled at Lavender and asked casually, "So how was your summer?" That simple question caused her to launch into a detailed description of how she had decided to become a Healer, which had led to her and Parvati volunteering at St. Mungo's and petitioning Snape to enter his Advanced Potions class.

"Wow!" Seamus said, sounding impressed. "You're a lot braver than I am, to voluntarily go into Snape's class! And you must have worked really hard studying to take that special O.W.L.!"

Lavender smiled, looking flattered. "Well, I have to take Potions to become a Healer, and I don't really think Snape's that bad anymore. I mean, he's still a little scary, but Professor Lupin loves him, so he must be okay."

Seamus wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't about to argue with Lavender when she was smiling at him so prettily. He sighed dramatically and said, "Well, I would have braved Snape and taken Potions too, if I had known you were going to be there!"

"I'm not sure I believe that!" Lavender said coyly, but she giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. Dean Thomas gave her a disgusted look; hero of the war or not, he still didn't like Snape, and he didn't understand why some of the girls now saw him as a romantic figure just because he had apparently been carrying on a secret affair with Professor Lupin. He glanced over at the head table where Snape sat, looking just as sallow and sour as ever. Then Lupin suddenly leaned over and kissed Snape on the cheek, and the Potions Master's pale face turned bright red--that part was a little different, Dean had to admit to himself!

"Cut that out, Lupin!" Snape snapped.

"Oh, cheer up and stop looking so grumpy, Severus!" Lupin laughed. "You know you're glad to be back at school."

Lukas Bleddri slumped back in his chair, looking at Lupin as if he didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused; he still wasn't entirely happy that Lupin had talked him into taking this job. "Is he always so disgustingly cheerful?" Lukas asked Snape.

"Yes," Snape immediately replied, the expression on his face eloquently speaking of long-suffering stoically borne. "You see what I have to put up with?" 

Lupin just chuckled as Lukas nodded sympathetically. "It's so nice to see you two getting along so well," he said in a bright, chirpy tone, and they both turned to glare at him.

Meanwhile, the students were so engrossed with Dylan's and Hermione's newly-revealed romance that most of them didn't even notice that there was a new teacher sitting at the head table. Most of the girls were mourning and commiserating while most of the boys, like Seamus, were overjoyed.

"I don't see what's so great about Hermione," Padma sniffed at the Ravenclaw table.

"She seems like a nice person," Lisa Turpin said. "And she's very smart. Besides, I thought she was your sister's friend."

"Aren't you upset?" Padma asked. "Weren't the two of you going out for awhile during fourth year?"

Lisa shook her head. "No, we went to the Yule Ball together, and we went to Madam Puddifoot's together a couple of times, but nothing ever really happened. I mean, we danced, we flirted, we even kissed a few times, but..." Padma sighed enviously, and Lisa frowned a little. "There was no real spark. I don't know how to explain it, exactly, but I never felt like I really knew him. Sometimes we talked about personal things, like our families, but it always felt somehow like he was holding something back."

"What do you mean?" Padma asked.

"Well, like I never really saw him get angry or sad before the final battle," Lisa replied. "He was always so calm, and he never lost his temper even when the Gryffindors said nasty things about him. At the time I just assumed it was because he was being careful not to give anyone an excuse to have him expelled from school, although I guess it was also because he knew the Death Eaters were watching him. But anyway, you can't really have a relationship with someone who can't--or won't--open up to you. So we just stayed friends, and I'm fine with that. I'm glad he feels like he doesn't have to keep his guard up anymore. So if he's happy with Hermione, than I'm happy for him."

The Ravenclaw girls stared at her in awe, then Padma jokingly complained, "Do you have to be so mature about it, Lisa? Let us hate Hermione just for a little while!" and everyone laughed.

At the Hufflepuff table, Justin Finch-Fletchley was staring thoughtfully at the Slytherin table when Zacharias Smith grinned and elbowed him in the side, and he looked up with a start. "It's great news, isn't it?" Zacharias asked. "Rosier's finally freed up the field for the rest of us!"

"Yes," Justin said, his eyes flickering back to the Slytherin table for a moment. "It is."

"You don't need to gloat about it," Hannah Abbott complained.

Then the chatter died down as Professor McGonagall led the first-years into the Great Hall to be Sorted. They lined up in front of the Sorting Hat, and it began to sing:

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindor apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuff are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk will use any means   
To achieve their ends.

But do not forget how Hogwarts  
Was nearly torn apart last year:  
Houses turned on one another  
In jealousy and fear.  
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff,  
Gryffindor and Slytherin--  
Let four Houses stand united,  
And let the Sorting now begin!

Professor McGonagall began calling the first-years forward. "Ames-Diggory, Tristan!"

A thin, serious-looking boy with brown hair stepped forward and put on the Hat. After a long pause, the Hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The boy smiled and headed to the Hufflepuff table as his new housemates cheered and applauded loudly.

"Ames-Diggory?" Ron said. "Do you suppose he's related to Cedric?"

"He kind of looks like Cedric," Harry said uneasily as a wave of grief and guilt suddenly swept over him. He had defeated Voldemort, but it had been too late to save Cedric.

At the Slytherin table, Pansy was saying, "He's supposed to be Cedric Diggory's cousin. I hear that the Diggorys named him their heir after Cedric died." But Theodore was paying no attention to her, or to Tristan, because his eyes were focused on the line of first-years.

"What is HE doing here?" Theodore hissed, looking angry and upset.

"Who?" Blaise asked, puzzled.

"Baddock, Miriam!" McGonagall called.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Malcolm Baddock smiled and waved at his sister as she headed towards their table, but Blaise, Dylan, and Damien ignored their new housemate as they turned to see who Theodore was pointing at: a tall boy with black hair and brown eyes who was much too old to be a first-year.

"Biggest first-year I've ever seen," Damien joked. 

"He must be a transfer student," Dylan said.

"Chang, Jun!" McGonagall said, calling the next student, a dark-haired boy who bore a strong resemblance to Cho Chang.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Creevey, Emma!" A girl with brown hair tied back in pigtails smiled as Colin and Dennis Creevey waved at her from the Gryffindor table.

"Geez, how many of them are there?" Draco grumbled. "They're breeding as fast as the Weasleys!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"So who is he?" Damien asked, ignoring Draco.

"Who is who?" Draco wanted to know, a little miffed at being ignored.

"Delacour, Gabrielle!"

"Hey, that's Fleur's sister!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah, Fleur is living in London now, so her sister wanted to come to Hogwarts to be closer to her," Ron said. "Bill just told me about it the other day."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"So who is that guy, Theo?" Damien repeated.

But there was no need for Theodore to answer, because the tall black-haired boy was stepping forward as McGonagall called his name: "Dietrich, Aric!"

The Hat was only on his head for a second before it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Aric walked over to the Slytherin table, an arrogant smirk on his face. "Do you know him, Theodore?" Pansy asked eagerly. "He's so handsome!"

"I thought your heart was broken," Damien teased. "You pined over Dylan for--what? All of five minutes?"

"A girl has to be practical," Pansy said airily, tossing her hair back. "No point in crying over spilled milk."

Dylan and Blaise were staring at Theodore with concerned looks on their faces. "Dietrich," Blaise said slowly. "Isn't that your mother's maiden name?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Theodore demanded as Aric took a seat across from him, still smirking. "I thought you were at Durmstrang!"

"It's nice to see you, too, cousin dear," Aric sneered. "My parents decided that it was safe to send me to Hogwarts now that dear old Uncle Thaddeus is dead. How nice of you to finally tell the truth, Theo--too bad it's too late to do Uncle Rafe any good."

Theodore went pale, then flushed with guilt and anger. "He was my uncle, too, Aric," he said in a low voice.

"Then why did you let your Death Eater daddy get away with murder?" Aric demanded.

"Leave him alone!" Dylan snapped. "How was an eight-year old child supposed to stop a Death Eater?"

Aric turned his sneer on Dylan. "Ah yes, you must be Rosier...another little junior Death Eater."

"I don't like your attitude, Dietrich," Draco said, with his old air of haughty authority. 

"Yeah?" Aric asked, looking unimpressed. "And what are you going to do about it, Malfoy? Your daddy's not around anymore, either."

Draco clenched his fists in anger and frustration, and suddenly Crabbe and Goyle stood, looming over Aric as they flexed their muscles. "We don't like your attitude, either, Dietrich," Goyle growled.

Pansy decided that Aric wasn't that handsome after all. She didn't like his sneer and his tone of voice, which were far more arrogant and insufferable than Draco at his worst. The other Slytherins also began giving him hostile looks; even if they didn't particularly like Draco or Theodore, they didn't like an outsider attacking one of their own.

"You might want to think twice before you go around picking fights with Nott and Rosier," Pansy said in a cool voice. "They are Professor Snape's foster sons, after all, and Professor Snape is your Head of House. He can make life very difficult for you if you antagonize him--not just in school, but when you graduate. You'll have a hard time getting a job without a recommendation from your Head of House."

"And he has connections to the Minister of Magic," Millicent added, bluffing a little. She didn't really know how much influence Snape had with Arthur Weasley, but since they had both been members of the Order of the Phoenix, it was safe to assume that he had some. Besides, Lupin seemed friendly with the Weasleys.

Aric scowled and subsided, but the look he gave Theodore clearly said that this wasn't over.

Meanwhile, at the head table, Snape and Lupin watched with concern as Aric joined the Slytherin table.

"He looks like Rafe," Lupin said, "and he has the same last name."

"He's the son of the Dietrich heir," Snape said, frowning. "Which would make him Rafe's nephew and Theodore's cousin. He's supposed to be at Durmstrang; his family didn't want to send him to Hogwarts after Rafe's disappearance--they wanted as little to do with the Notts and the other suspected Death Eaters as possible."

"So they sent him to a school whose Headmaster was a former Death Eater?" Lupin asked skeptically.

Snape shrugged. "There weren't many other options, Lupin. The Dietrich family has Dark leanings themselves, so it was natural for them to choose Durmstrang over Beauxbatons. Besides, Karkaroff had pretty much severed his ties to the Death Eaters when he turned traitor, and even in the old days, he had little love for Thaddeus Nott."

"Then I suppose it's natural for them to bring their son home, now that they need no longer fear Thaddeus and the other Death Eaters," Lupin said.

Snape was still frowning. "But Aric is the same the age as Theodore, so it doesn't really make sense to switch schools during his last year. It puts him at a disadvantage, starting over from scratch with new teachers and a new curriculum, not to mention having to establish himself in the social pecking order in Slytherin House."

"Well, maybe he wasn't doing that well at Durmstrang," Lupin suggested, although he was beginning to look worried. "Maybe his parents thought he would do better at Hogwarts."

"I'll take a look at his transcript record," Snape said. "But I think there's more to it than that; I'll have to keep a very close eye on Mr. Dietrich."

They were so busy discussing Aric Dietrich that they missed seeing the next few students being sorted, and by the time they looked up again, McGonagall, moving alphabetically down the list of students, had reached the J's.

"Jordan, Jarrett!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Kendrick, Slaine!"

A dark-haired girl nervously approached the stool where the Sorting Hat sat. Lupin thought she looked familiar, and suddenly remembered where he had seen her before. "Isn't that one of your cousins, Branwen? I seem to recall meeting her at the wedding."

"Yes," Branwen replied. "I'm looking forward to getting to know her. I think she's a little intimidated by me, though."

"I can't imagine why," Snape muttered sarcastically.

The Hat seemed to be taking a long time to decide which House to place Slaine in, but finally it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Branwen gave Snape a stern look. "I expect you to look after her, Severus, and see that she's treated fairly."

Snape scowled, wishing that the girl had been Sorted into another House; the last thing he wanted was Branwen breathing down his neck to make sure that her little cousin was not being mistreated. The girl was walking over to the Slytherin table with an apprehensive look on her face, which boded ill for both her and Snape--a true Slytherin would know better than to show such weakness, because the older students would sense it, like a predator scenting blood. Normally they would mercilessly bully and harass such a timid-looking first-year, but perhaps her connection to Branwen would protect her; Snape would have to make sure that they all knew she was a blood relative of the demonic Professor Blackmore. He doubted that they would want to incur her wrath after having seen Draco, Weasley, and Potter run afoul of her last year when they turned Bane into a bunny. On the other hand, it did his reputation--which was already in tatters, thanks to Lupin--little good for them to see that their Head of House was almost as cowed by Professor Blackmore as they were. 

Lupin, of course, was just thrilled. "Of course we'll look out for her, Branwen. I'm glad she's been sorted into Slytherin; it means I'll have a chance to get to know her a little better, since I'm living in the dungeon with Severus now." He beamed at Snape, looking so radiantly happy that Snape's irritation eased slightly. 

"Laroque, Isabelle!" McGonagall called out, and a pretty girl with long brown hair and green eyes stepped forward. Like Aric, she did not seem to belong with the crowd of first-years; she looked to be about fifteen or sixteen.

"Two transfer students in one year?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows.

"She looks vaguely familiar," Lupin said.

"She is the niece of Gideon and Fabian Prewett," Branwen informed them, referring to two members of the Order of the Phoenix who had been killed during the first war. "Their sister Emilie moved to France after they died--I think she feared that the Death Eaters might come after her as well, although she wasn't a member of the Order." The Death Eaters had been known to wipe out entire families, so it wasn't an entirely unfounded fear. "She married a French wizard, and Isabelle has been attending Beauxbatons up until now."

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted.

"How do you know all this?" Snape asked.

Branwen smiled. "You and Remus weren't the only ones I spied on while I was...ah...passing the time in my grandfather's palace. I did look in on my fellow Order members and their families occasionally. And besides, Albus mentioned it to me."

"He might have briefed the rest of us," Snape grumbled, but wasn't surprised that he hadn't; the old man took a distinct pleasure in springing surprises on people. 

A few more students were Sorted into various Houses, then McGonagall called, "Parkinson, Patrick!" and a plump blond boy stepped forward and donned the Hat.

"Is that Pansy's brother?" Lupin asked Snape, who nodded.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat immediately shouted, and the boy ran eagerly to the Slytherin table.

"Pettigrew, Portia!" A thin girl with mousy brown hair cautiously approached, looking even more nervous than Slaine had.

"Pettigrew?!" Snape exclaimed. "Don't tell me that the rat had a daughter!"

"No," Lupin said, "but he did have a brother. I believe Portia is Peter's niece." He saw Snape scowling at the girl and added pointedly, "She is not to blame for what her uncle did, Severus, any more than Dylan is to blame for Evan's crimes, so don't take out your dislike of Wormtail on her."

"Fine," Snape said sulkily.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Portia hesitantly headed towards the Gryffindor table, and several of the children gave her suspicious looks. One boy asked loudly, "Are you related to that Death Eater who was posing as Weasley's rat?"

Portia flushed and said stiffly, "Not any longer. Peter Pettigrew disgraced his family name, and was formally disowned, and his name removed from the family tree."

"Come sit by us," Hermione said kindly to Portia, and then glared at the boy who had just spoken and said sternly, "Everything that happened last year should have taught you to judge people by their actions, not their blood! Otherwise you're just as bad as the Death Eaters who hated people for having Muggle blood! Besides, I'm sure the Sorting Hat knows what it's doing!"

"That's right!" Ginny said emphatically, then elbowed Harry in the side.

"Ouch!" he said. "Uh...right." He was not sure how he felt about a relative of Wormtail--a niece, or perhaps a cousin?--entering Gryffindor. Portia looked a little bit like him, and Harry could not forget that Peter Pettigrew was responsible for his parents' deaths. On the other hand, the Hat would not have put her into Gryffindor if she was a bad person, right? But then again, Peter Pettigrew had once been a Gryffindor himself...had the Hat made a mistake back then, and could it have made one now?

While Harry was pondering all this, Portia took a seat between Ginny and Hermione and smiled at them shyly. The two older girls greeted her warmly, trying to make up for their housemates' less-than-enthusiastic response.

"Hi, I'm Ginny. Welcome to Gryffindor."

"And I'm Hermione--"

"I know who you are," Portia said softly. "You're famous; I've read about you in the Daily Prophet."

Hermione looked a little embarrassed. "Yes, well...don't worry about the others. I'm sure they'll like you once they get to know you." Portia didn't look convinced, but she just nodded in response.

"Sloper, Kenneth!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Jack Sloper, a Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, cheered loudly, then gave his younger brother a hearty slap on the back as he took his place at the Gryffindor table.

"Talbott, Corbin!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Dylan stared at the solemn-looking dark-haired boy who was heading over to the Ravenclaw table. "My father's mother was a Talbott," he said. "I wonder if we're related?"

"He does look a little bit like you," Pansy agreed. "You might be cousins or something."

"I'll have to talk to him later," Dylan said, smiling at the thought of finding a new cousin and possibly learning something about his grandmother's family.

Allegra Zabini was, of course, the last student to be called. She had been fidgeting impatiently; it seemed to take forever for all the other first-years to be Sorted, but finally Professor McGonagall called her name, and she eagerly ran forward and took a seat on the stool as McGonagall placed the Hat on her Head.

"Hmm, let's see," the Hat said. "Brave...inquisitive...loyal...I think that Gryffindor is the House for you."

"What?" Allegra cried in dismay. "But I'm supposed to be a Slytherin! I want to be in the same House with my brother and his friends!"

"Doesn't _anyone_ want to go into the House I select for them?" the Hat asked peevishly.

Allegra giggled a little at how put-out the Hat sounded. "You mean other people have wanted to go into different Houses than the ones you chose?"

"Yes," the Hat said grumpily. "Your brother insisted that I put him into Slytherin even though he was really better suited for Ravenclaw."  "Really?" Allegra asked, fascinated; Blaise had never said anything about that!

"Yes," the Hat replied. "And several of your fellow first-years argued with me as well."

"Really? Which ones?"

"None of your business," the Hat replied firmly. "Besides, we're discussing you. You are not suited for Slytherin. You have no great ambition or desire for power. You are intelligent, but you have no subtlety, no deviousness or cunning."

"Well, I don't mean to be disrespectful, sir," Allegra said, "but my father will be upset if you put me into Gryffindor. And the Gryffindors might not be happy about it, either."

"I'm not saying it will be easy," the Hat said. "Some of them might be prejudiced against you, yes, but I think you will make true and loyal friends there. If you insist, I will place you in Slytherin, but Gryffindor is where you will reach your full potential."

"Are you sure?" Allegra asked dubiously.

"I have been doing this for hundreds of years, child!" the Hat said indignantly. "I believe I might know just a little more about it than you do!"

Allegra giggled again, and glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all...Harry Potter and his friends had been nice to her, and Hermione was Dylan's girlfriend. And if she joined Gryffindor, maybe they would tell her about how they had fought the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters...

The Hat seemed to sense the direction her thoughts were taking. "It will be a grand adventure," it said coaxingly.

All right," Allegra said, nodding.

Meanwhile, at the Slytherin table, Blaise fretted, "What on earth is taking so long?" His sister seemed to be arguing with the Sorting Hat, which was taking an inordinately long time to Sort her.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the Hat.

"OH NO!" wailed Blaise as his little sister skipped over to the Gryffindor table. "My parents are going to kill me!"

"It's not your fault," Theodore said soothingly, patting him on the shoulder; he'd had a sneaking suspicion that something like this might happen when Allegra started arguing with the Hat.

"She's supposed to be in Slytherin!" Blaise shouted, still distraught. "My mother told me to look after her! How am I supposed to do that if she's in Gryffindor?!"

"Don't worry," Dylan said, a little taken aback at seeing his normally calm and quiet friend lose his composure. "I'll ask Hermione to look out for her. She and Ginny really like Allegra."

"But what about the other Gryffindors?" Blaise asked. "Won't they pick on her because she's from a Slytherin family? You know what they're like--they think all Slytherins are Death Eaters and Dark Wizards!"

"Not all of them think that way," Dylan protested. "Hermione and Ginny don't. And the others are starting to change, too."

Pansy nodded. "He's right, Zabini. I'll ask Parvati and Lavender to make sure the other Gryffindors don't bully her."

"Besides," Serafina added, startling everyone at the table since she rarely spoke, "Allegra is stronger than you think. She can look after herself."

Blaise sighed and slouched down in his chair, groaning, "My dad is going to have a fit! If she was going to be placed into another House, couldn't it have been Ravenclaw, or at least Hufflepuff? No, it has to be Gryffindor...typical Allegra, causing a stir wherever she goes!"

Allegra hesitated as she reached the Gryffindor table and saw her housemates staring at her in shock, but then Hermione smiled and waved at her. 

"Hi, Allegra!" Hermione called out cheerfully. "I'm really glad you're in our House! Come sit over here with us." So Allegra smiled and ran over to take a seat near her.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling at her; he felt more confident about accepting her into their ranks than he did Portia Pettigrew. Blaise was a decent sort, for a Slytherin, and there didn't seem to be any malice in Allegra, either. She seemed like a good-natured and cheerful--if overly-talkative--little girl.

"Hi, Harry!" Allegra said, smiling back at him, and the other Gryffindors relaxed a little, seeing that Harry--who was the savior of the wizarding world, after all--had accepted her.

"Aren't you Blaise Zabini's sister?" Colin Creevey asked in a curious but not hostile tone. "I would have thought you'd be Sorted into Slytherin."

"Me too," Allegra agreed. "I was really surprised when the Hat told me I should go into Gryffindor, but I guess he knows best." She mimicked the Hat's indignant voice: "I have been doing this for hundreds of years, child! I believe I might know just a little more about it than you do!" Most of the children at the table burst out laughing, but a few still regarded her warily, Dean Thomas and Portia Pettigrew among them.

At the head table, Snape sat there looking stunned. "I don't think a Zabini has ever been Sorted into Gryffindor before!"

"I sort of thought she might be," Lupin said, looking amused, "although I didn't say anything, since she seemed to have her heart set on Slytherin. She seemed much more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin to me."

"Yes, annoying chatty and cheerful," Snape grumbled. "Well, at least she won't be my problem."

"She still might be, at least indirectly," Lupin said. "Blaise seems rather upset about it."

"I'm not surprised," Snape said. "Marius is going to be livid when he hears about this."

"And I'm worried that some of the Gryffindors might have a hard time accepting her," Lupin continued. "Although I think that Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Ron will look out for her."

"Are you sure?" Snape asked skeptically. "The girls, perhaps, but Potter and Weasley--"

"Have matured a lot over the summer," Lupin said firmly. "And I've no doubt that Hermione will remind them if they start to backslide."

"So that bossy Gryffindor wench will come in good for something after all," Snape chuckled. "You're probably right, but I'll have a word with Minerva just in case."

"Have a word with me about what, Severus?" McGonagall asked as she took her seat at the head table.

"About how the Gryffindors will react to having a Slytherin in their midst," Snape said.

"If you're referring to Allegra Zabini," McGonagall said, "she cannot, by definition, be a Slytherin if she is in Gryffindor House."

"You know what I mean," Snape snapped.

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, I know," she admitted. "I will keep an eye on her, but I think that the hostility between Houses has lessened since the war ended. I'm more worried about Portia Pettigrew."

"Well, Hermione seems to have taken both girls under her wing," Lupin said with a smile. "But yes, I think we should all watch them carefully, Portia in particular, to make sure that they're not harassed."

Snape frowned; he knew from experience that the teachers could not stop the students from harassing each other if they were truly determined to do it. Oh, they could punish flagrant offenses like hexing, but they couldn't stop the petty taunting and name-calling. Even the hexing could be difficult to punish, if the offenders were not caught in the act. 

He scowled as he remembered how many times Potter senior had gotten away with hexing him--the teachers, save for Branwen, had tended to give the golden boy the benefit of the doubt, and besides, Snape had not often complained to the teachers. He had known Potter would find a way to weasel out of it somehow, and running to the teachers for help would have caused the Gryffindors to call him a whiner and made him appear weak to his fellow Slytherins. No, Snape had usually kept silent and plotted his own revenge on his tormentors. 

Lupin laid a hand on Snape's arm and whispered, "Things are different now, Severus. I'm not letting any student get away with the kinds of things that James and Sirius did. Neither will you or Branwen, I'm sure."

Snape flushed and gave him a suspicious look. "Are you sure you've never learned Legilimency?"

Lupin smiled at him tenderly. "It's just that I know you so well, my love."

Several of the teachers, Hagrid among them, were staring at Lupin and Snape incredulously; they were still having a little trouble adjusting to the fact that this very unlikely couple was indeed a couple. Others, like Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Branwen, merely looked amused. Lukas Bleddri just snorted and shook his head.

"Don't go all maudlin on me in public, Lupin," Snape complained, but the expression on his face softened a little, and he seemed comforted by Lupin's words.

Now that the first-years had all been Sorted, Dumbledore stood and made his usual welcoming speech, complete with the warning about staying out of the Forbidden Forest, then closed with, "And I would like to introduce a new member of the staff to you. Master Satoshi has remained with us to teach Illusions, but Professor Chizuru and Master Karasu have returned to their home in Japan. Madam Pomfrey will give special classes in Healing to those of you with the Healing Gift, and Master Bleddri will take over Master Karasu's classes. He will also teach a new class in Interspecies Relations." He motioned to Lukas, who stood and nodded curtly, then took his seat again. The students applauded halfheartedly, then immediately began gossiping with each other excitedly as Dumbledore said, "Now let the feast begin!"

"He's a werewolf, isn't he?" Pansy asked. "I read about him in the Daily Prophet!" She gave her new teacher an appraising look and said, "You know, he is kind of good-looking..."

The other Slytherin girls gave Master Bleddri a closer look, and Millicent said, "I suppose so, if you like the bad-boy type." The werewolf was handsome enough, with high cheekbones and aristocratic features, and his long hair was an interesting shade--or more precisely, shades--of blond. Most of it was a buttery-yellow shade of blond, but interspersed here and there with streaks of white-blond and darker streaks of golden-brown almost the same color as Lupin's hair. His eyes were feral-looking, though, an almost bestial shade of yellow-green, and instead of an ordinary wizard's robe, he was wearing a long black leather trenchcoat that was scuffed and faded.

Pansy laughed and said pertly, "I'm a Slytherin; what other type would I like?"

"But he's a werewolf!" Yvonne said, looking horrified. "You can't possibly be thinking of mixing your blood with that of a beast!" 

Crabbe and Goyle immediately took offense. "Professor Lupin's a werewolf!" Crabbe said angrily. "Are you calling him a beast, too?"

"Oh, take it easy, Yvonne," Pansy said impatiently. "I just said he was handsome; I didn't say I was going to marry him!"

Yvonne subsided, cringing a little, as Goyle growled, "Professor Lupin's not a beast!"

"I see things have changed in Slytherin House since my father's days," Aric said scornfully. "Befriending werewolves--no wonder my parents sent me to Durmstrang!"

"Feel free to go back anytime!" Theodore snapped.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings, Theo?" Aric shot back. "I forgot Lupin is your daddy now--or is it Snape? Which one of them is the mummy, and which is the daddy? Lupin looks like the submissive type to me, but appearances can be deceiving..."

Crabbe and Goyle were rising to their feet, and Dylan and Blaise were trying to restrain Theodore from taking out his wand and hexing his cousin, who was laughing at him mockingly. The other students at the table were also glaring at Aric, and a riot might have broken out except that just then, a great horned owl flew into the Great Hall, distracting everyone as it dropped a red envelope on the table in front of Professor Snape and flew out again. Snape stared at it in horror for a moment, then took out his wand in an attempt to destroy it, but he was too late.

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" the letter screamed in Selima Snape's voice, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear. "YOUR FATHER IS DYING! COME HOME AT ONCE!" Then it literally exploded, leaving behind a scorch mark on the table and bits of singed red confetti.

Snape's face turned sheet-white, and a dead silence fell over the hall; one could literally have heard a pin drop. Snape jumped up and ran from the table, and Lupin, Branwen, and Dumbledore immediately got up to follow him.

At the Slytherin table, even Aric had been stunned into silence. Theodore stared after Snape uncertainly, not sure whether he should go after him or not; Dylan had no such doubts. "Come on," he said impatiently as he rose from his seat. "What are you waiting for? We've got to make sure the Professor's okay."

As Theodore followed his foster brother, Draco called out, "Wait!" and the two boys turned to look back at him. "If...if it's true...tell the Professor I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay," Dylan said, and he and Theo ran after Snape. They found him in his dungeon office, still white and trembling slightly.

"I'm going to kill her!" Snape raged. "She had no right to embarrass me in front of the entire school!"

Lupin gently laid a hand on his lover's shoulder, and decided not to remind him about the numerous letters that he had burned unopened. "We have more important things to worry about, Severus," he said softly. "Has your father been ill?"

"How would I know?" Snape snapped. "I haven't spoken to him in years!"

"There has been no gossip about it," Branwen said, "but Severin Snape has been something of a recluse for many years."

"You must go home, Severus," Dumbledore said gravely. "I'll give you a leave of absence if necessary."

"I'm not going home!" Snape shouted. 

"They're your family, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly.

"They're not my family!" Snape screeched, looking wild-eyed and on the verge of hysteria. "They disowned me!"

"They are still your family, Severus," Dumbledore said sternly. "Your mother needs you."

"I don't give a damn what she needs! Where were they when I needed them?!"

"If you won't do it for your mother," Lupin said in a quiet but urgent voice, "do it for yourself. If your father is truly dying, you will never have another chance to make peace, or at least reach some closure, with him."

"Have you not heard a single word I've said, Lupin?" Snape shouted. "There will never be any peace, any closure with my family unless I fall into line like a good little Slytherin heir and marry some woman of the proper bloodline and sire a pureblooded Snape brat! Is that what you want?!"

"No, Severus," Lupin replied calmly. "But I still think you need to go home and see your father. I think you will regret it if you do not."

"Go, Severus," Branwen said in her sternest Professorial voice. "If your father truly is dying, you will be rid of him soon enough. Go this once and say your farewells." Then her voice softened and she smiled just a little. "Besides, I'm sure that Selima will keep sending you Howlers until you do." Snape groaned, horribly certain that she was right.

"Go, Severus," Dumbledore said, gently but firmly. "That's an order."

"I'll go with you," Lupin said.

Snape gave him a shaky smile. "I wasn't planning on going without you," he said; he didn't think that he could face his parents without Lupin's moral support. "But be prepared to hear a lot of nasty insults."

"I doubt they'll say anything I haven't heard before," Lupin said, unperturbed.

"Oh, Lady Selima is very creative," Snape said with an ironic little smile. "She can curse in four different languages."

"Then we'll have something in common," Lupin laughed. "We're both good with languages!"

"I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear it," Snape said sarcastically. He still looked unhappy, but a little less pale. "All right, let's get this over with."

"Professor?" Dylan asked timidly. "Can we come with you, too?"

Snape looked at him, startled; he hadn't even noticed that the boys were in the room. "Are you sure you want to? You've met my mother; this isn't likely to be a heartwarming little family reunion."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said firmly. "We're sure." Theodore didn't feel quite as certain of that himself, but he nodded. 

"Very well," Snape said. He knew that he shouldn't subject the boys to the confrontation that was sure to follow, but he was feeling weak enough right now to want the support of his entire family--his real family--standing by his side when he faced his parents.

"Oh, and Draco said to tell you that he's sorry about your father," Dylan added.

Snape nodded. "Well, you may thank Mr. Malfoy, but let's see what the situation is before people start doling out their condolences. Perhaps my mother is exaggerating the situation." 

That was probably wishful thinking; Selima Snape was not given to hyperbole, but like any Slytherin, she was capable of deceit. Maybe this was merely a trick to get him home so that she could try and convince him to give them an heir. He really hoped that was all it was...then he wondered why he was hoping that. He hated his father; what did he care if the man lived or died? He told himself that he didn't care, that he just wanted his parents to leave him alone; why did they have to bother him now, after fifteen years of silence? 

He sighed, then stepped forward and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, threw it in the fireplace, and said in a resigned tone, "Snape Manor!"

*** 

Snape stepped out of the fireplace into the drawing room of his childhood home; Lupin and the boys joined him a moment later. The room was luxurious, but gloomy: the drapes were made of black velvet, and the furniture was likewise upholstered in shades of black, blood-red, and dark green.

"Reminds me of Sirius's house," Lupin murmured, "though a bit more elegant."

"Yes, well, that's because my mother has better taste than the Blacks did," Snape grumbled, and Lupin smiled a little. "And because it hasn't been allowed to fall into disrepair by a half-mad house-elf."

As if on cue, a house-elf scuttled into the room. It was wearing a tattered black-and-red tea cozy, and looked older than Dobby or Winky, with wrinkled skin and wisps of white hair growing on the top of its head and out of its large, bat-like ears. "Master Severus!" it cried. "Please wait here; Vorcher will tell the Mistress you are here!"

"Out of my way, you miserable wretch!" Snape snarled, striding forward, and Vorcher cringed and scampered backwards to avoid being trampled on. "My mother was the one who called me here, and I'm not about to sit around cooling my heels waiting for her!"

"Severus!" Lupin cried reproachfully.

"Is Master Severus still mad at Vorcher about that incident?" the house-elf whined. "It wasn't Vorcher's fault; Vorcher was only following orders..."

"SHUT UP!" Snape roared, and Vorcher fled the room.

"Severus!" Lupin said angrily, as the boys watched anxiously. "I know you're upset, but there's no reason to take it out on that poor creature!"

"Stay out of this, Lupin!" Snape snapped. "You don't know anything about it!"

Lupin blinked, the anger draining from his face, and he gave his lover a thoughtful look. "It's not because you're upset about the Howler; it's something personal, isn't it? I always thought that you didn't like house-elves in general, but there's something about this specific house-elf that you dislike. What 'incident' is he referring to, Severus?"

Snape's face reddened. "None of your business, Lupin."

Lupin smiled a little. "Now you've really piqued my curiosity, Severus. Come on, you might as well tell me now; you know I'll get it out of you sooner or later."

Snape heaved a sigh of resignation and gave in. "Vorcher was kind to me when I was a child. He had no choice, of course--house-elves are required to be subservient to their masters, and I wasn't stupid enough to mistake it for friendship, but..."

"But you liked him," Lupin said with a smile.

"I wouldn't go that far," Snape said huffily. "But house-elves do tend to have a fondness for children, and like to pamper and indulge them, as I'm sure you've noticed the Hogwarts elves do. I took it for granted, but I forgot one very important thing--that house-elves only have one true master."

"The head of the household," Lupin said quietly.

"When I was eight years old, I snuck into my father's workshop without permission to mix some potions," Snape continued.

"A budding Potions Master even then," Lupin gently teased, and Snape actually smiled a little.

"I accidentally knocked over and broke a potion bottle. Vorcher helped me clean it up and he promised that he wouldn't tell my father about it..."

"But he did," Lupin finished quietly, and suddenly remembered something Severus had said during his argument with Lady Selima at the Leaky Cauldron last year. "And your father punished you with a Cruciatus Curse."

"Yes," Snape sighed. "I had hoped that my father wouldn't notice the missing bottle, but he did, and he asked Vorcher who had been in his workshop..."

"It wasn't Vorcher's fault, Severus," Lupin said gently. "You know he had no choice but to obey the commands of his master."

"I know," Snape sighed. "But..."

"But you felt betrayed?" Lupin asked.

Snape flushed and scowled, unwilling to admit to it out loud; a proper Slytherin did not feel affection towards sniveling little house-elves, certainly not enough to feel betrayed by them when they did their duty and reported some childish offense to their master. "I suppose Vorcher did me a favor," Snape said stiffly. "He reminded me of the lessons every Slytherin is taught: to trust no one and to never let your guard down." 

"But that's not true, Severus," Lupin said softly, reaching out to place a hand on Snape's shoulder. "You trust me, and I trust you with my very life."

Just then, Selima Snape marched into the room, followed by Vorcher, who was careful to remain behind his mistress at all times, keeping her between himself and Snape. "It's about time, Severus!" she snapped. "Have you even opened any of the other letters I sent you?"

"As a matter of fact, I haven't," Snape said coolly. "I saw no reason why I should, as I am no longer a member of the Snape family."

Selima slapped him hard across the face, and Lupin prepared to restrain him in case he tried to attack her in return, but Snape looked more stunned than angry. His mother had never struck him before; she had berated him often enough, but she always left punishments up to his father.

"Your father is dying, Severus!" she cried. "Can you set aside your childish, petty grudges for just a moment?"

"They're not petty--" Snape started to argue, but Lupin placed a hand on his arm and interrupted him.

"You can argue later, Severus," he said quietly. "We did come here to see your parents, after all."

"And what are _they_ doing here?" Selima said with a disdainful little sniff as she looked at Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore. "This is a family matter. It's bad enough that you flaunt your pet werewolf in public, but to bring him into this house--"

"Lupin's Gryffindor idealism is the only reason that I am here!" Snape snarled. "He has some quaint notion that I might 'make peace' with Father before he dies, which is complete nonsense, of course, but if you utter one more insult about him, I will leave and never return!"

Selima's face turned red as she fumed, but she pressed her lips together in a tight, thin line as she fought to remain silent. Lupin said gently, "You may hate me if you wish, Lady Selima, but didn't you just say that we should put aside our petty grudges? Dylan, Theodore, and I are Severus's family too, like it or not, and we are here to offer him moral support, that is all. We have no wish to otherwise interfere in a family matter." He smiled pleasantly. "And we came by Floo, so you don't have to worry about your neighbors seeing a werewolf in the house, so long as you keep the drapes closed."

Selima glared at him. "Fine. I don't like it, but stay if you must."

"What is going on, Mother?" Snape asked impatiently. 

"I thought I made that clear in the Howler," Selima snapped. "Your father is dying!"

"Could you be a little more specific?" Snape asked acerbically. "Was he cursed, was he in an accident, is he ill--?"

"He has been ill for the past few years," Selima said quietly, "but he has recently taken a turn for the worst." Her voice sharpened again. "Which you would know if you had bothered to read the letters I've been sending you!"

"Is there nothing the Healers can do?" Lupin interrupted before Snape could fire back a retort.

"No," Selima said curtly. "He has seen the best Healers money can buy, and they can do nothing more for him. They say he has a few months left at best."

"I am very sorry," Lupin said gently.

"I don't want your sympathy," Selima snapped. "What I want--what we want--is for Severus to ensure the Snape succession."

"Never," said Snape, his face hardening.

"Your father will reinstate you as his heir if you agree to do your duty, Severus," Selima pleaded, suddenly looking desperate. "But we must work this out now, before it's too late!"

"It's already too late, Mother," Snape said. "I will never marry. I will never have a child. If that is all you wanted to tell me, then you have wasted your time."

Selima opened her mouth to argue, and Lupin decided to intervene before Severus stormed out without ever seeing his father. "Please," he said quietly. "It is clear that you will not resolve this argument anytime soon. Perhaps Severus should see his father now?"

Selima glared at him for a moment, resenting the intrusion, then pursed her lips thoughtfully and nodded. "Very well. Perhaps the sight of your father on his deathbed will remind you of your duty, Severus."

"Not likely," Snape muttered, but he sullenly followed her out of the room and up the stairs. Vorcher ran ahead of them, still keeping Selima between himself and Snape, and Lupin and the boys followed behind.

Selima paused in the middle of a hallway on the third floor. "Please, Severus," she said in a hushed tone. "Your father will be upset if you bring the werewolf in with you--"

"The werewolf has a name," Snape snapped.

"He will be upset if you bring Professor Lupin in with you," Selima said through gritted teeth. "And it isn't good for his health for him to work himself into a fit."

Snape found the thought of facing his father alone to be incredibly daunting, and he wasn't sure he could do it. He cast a quick, imploring glance at Lupin.

"It's all right, Severus," Lupin said softly, gently stroking his arm. He would have embraced his lover, but he didn't want to drive Selima into a state of apoplexy. "We'll wait right outside the door for you." He looked at Dylan and Theodore, who nodded in agreement. The boys were secretly a little relieved; they were not particularly eager to face Snape's dying father, either. "We'll be right here if you need us," Lupin continued soothingly.

"All right," Snape growled, taking a deep breath and inwardly steeling himself. Vorcher opened the bedroom door, and Snape followed his mother into the room.

Snape was shocked by the sight of the man lying in the bed; he was still recognizable as Severin Snape, but Snape remembered his father as an intimidating figure who had towered over him as a child, dealing out pain and punishment. The man in the bed looked small and frail: the long illness had withered Severin down to little more than skin and bones, and he looked as though he could be snapped in two like a twig with the slightest effort. Snape looked down at his father, feeling outraged and somehow cheated--this was the man he had lived in fear of as a child, who had brought him to his knees screaming with a Cruciatus Curse? This pathetic, fragile-looking creature that Snape could have killed with his bare hands and no need for magic?

Selima bent down to whisper into her husband's ear, "Severin, Severus is here."

Severin's eyes fluttered open; it took a few moments for them to focus on Snape and recognize who he was. "Severus," he said in a hoarse, raspy whisper.

"Father," Snape said, nodding curtly at him.

"Have you finally come home to do your duty?" Severin whispered.

"I have come home because Mother sent a Howler that announced to the entire school that you were dying," Snape brusquely. "And my softhearted Gryffindor Headmaster and...er...colleague...insisted that I come home to see you."

"Don't do me any favors," Severin snapped, and Snape barked out a single harsh, mirthless laugh. "I am dying, Severus," Severin continued. "I do not wish to leave my estate to you--"

"Don't do _me_ any favors!" Snape retorted.

"--but you are my only heir," Severin continued. "If you will agree to marry and sire an heir of your own, I will revoke the ban and appoint you head of the Snape family."

"I will never marry!" Snape insisted. "Can't either of you get that through your heads?! I will never give you an heir!"

"Because of that werewolf catamite of yours?" Severin snapped. "Yes, I know about that--the entire world knows how you have disgraced this family!"

"Tell me why I should give a damn about this family!" Snape shouted, and outside the bedroom door, Lupin and the boys exchanged worried looks. "You tortured me with Unforgivable Curses as a child--"

"Yes, Selima told me how you were whining about that," Severin said dismissively. "I can't believe I raised such a pathetic excuse for a son! I did not torture you, Severus--the way your friends Nott and Avery tortured their own wives and children, might I remind you? I merely punished you when you misbehaved."

"With a Cruciatus Curse?!" Snape shouted.

Selima sighed and muttered to herself, "This is not going well. I don't know why I bothered." Both her husband and her son ignored her.

"It left more of an impression on you than being spanked or sent to bed without your supper would have, didn't it?" Severin retorted. "If the Malfoys had been harder on Lucius, they might still be alive! If the Blacks had been harder on Sirius, he might not have turned out to be such a disgrace to them!"

"And Nott and Avery were not my friends!" Snape added.

"Then why did you take in Nott's son?" Severin asked.

"So that he wouldn't have to grow up in a house like this one!" Snape screamed, then paused and took several deep breaths to get himself under control. He would not lose control in front of his father; he would not expose any weaknesses to his father. "Nott and Avery and Malfoy were never really my friends," Snape said in an icy voice. "I was never really a Death Eater, as I'm sure you know by now."

"You could have told us that," Severin snapped.

"You could have had a little faith in me," Snape snapped back. "Even the Donners stood by Ariane when she was arrested and about to be sent to Azkaban!"

"Faith?" Severin scoffed. "Faith is for Gryffindors! Clearly that Headmaster corrupted you with his bleeding heart notions! If you had confided in me, I would have advised you never to do something so noble and reckless and foolish as spying on the Death Eaters!"

"If I hadn't," Snape snarled, "we might all be dead or slaves of the Dark Lord right now!"

"Fine," Severin said mockingly. "You're a hero; congratulations! But that still doesn't give me an heir."

"I will never give you an heir of my body," Snape said coldly. "You might as well go ahead and adopt one."

"Don't think that I won't!" Severin shouted, spit flying from his mouth. "If you will not do your duty as a Snape, I will turn the estate over to the Ministry before I let you have it!"

"Go ahead," Snape smirked. "That Gryffindor idiot Arthur Weasley is in charge of the Ministry now. He'll probably use the proceeds to build a home for wayward werewolves or fund some Muggle preservation act."

Severin struggled into a sitting position and flailed his arms wildly at Snape as his wife tried to calm him down. "Get out of here, you ungrateful wretch!" he screamed. "Get out, and don't show your face again until you're willing to do your duty!"

"Severin, enough, please lie down," Selima urged, glaring at her son.

Severin collapsed back against the bed, more from exhaustion than Selima's urgings. "Vorcher!" he shouted. "Vorcher, bring me my medicine!"

"Coming, Master!" the house-elf cried, and actually shot a quick glare at Snape as he hurried over and picked up a potion bottle from a nearby table.

"Well, that went well," Snape said sarcastically to Lupin as he joined the trio out in the hall. "I told you this was a waste of time."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said helplessly, and Snape shrugged.

"It's not your fault, Lupin."

The four of them stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. A few minutes later, Selima emerged from the room and closed the door behind her. "I told you not to upset your father," she said accusingly.

"No, you told me not to let Lupin upset Father," Snape reminded her.

"You know what I mean," Selima said, looking too weary to be angry, which actually frightened Snape a little.

"I am sorry, Mother," Snape said in a stilted voice, "but as I said before, if you brought me here just to persuade me to give you an heir, you have wasted your time."

"Because of the werewolf?" Selima asked, and Snape bristled. She sighed and said, "Well, shouting in the hall isn't going to help your father get some rest. Let's go back downstairs and discuss this in the drawing room."

"I told you, any further discussion is a waste of time," Snape complained, but they followed her downstairs. 

"You can keep your werewolf lover," Selima told Snape, once they were all seated. "I won't try to fight you on that anymore. If you agree to take a wife and be a little more discreet, we can provide him with a place of his own and enough money to live comfortably--"

For the first time, Lupin began to look angry. "I am no one's pet dog, Lady Selima," he said coldly.

"That's it, we're leaving," Snape said, rising to his feet.

"Sit down, Severus!" Lupin and Selima said simultaneously, then stared at each other in surprise. Lupin laughed a little and Selima scowled at him. Snape shook his head and sat down again, feeling--not exactly cheerful, but a little better at seeing that the werewolf was getting on someone else's nerves for a change.

"It's a generous offer," Selima told Snape. "It's no secret that your lover is a pauper, and I would have thought that you'd like to see him provided for."

"I can provide for myself, thank you very much, Lady Selima," Lupin said firmly. "I have a cottage that my parents left to me, and I now earn a decent salary at Hogwarts. I have no need of a mansion or frivolous luxuries."

"How very nice for you," Selima said in an acid tone of voice.

"Mother," Snape said in a warning tone.

"I am trying to be reasonable here, Severus!" Selima protested. "I have just told you that you can keep your lover! All you need to do is a make a marriage of convenience and sleep with the girl long enough to sire a child! Of course it will be difficult to find a woman of the proper bloodline willing to marry you, since your relationship with the werewolf has been made public--"

"Mother--"

"--but I'm sure I can find some family fallen on hard times that will be willing to overlook it in exchange for a generous dowry."

"Mother, I--"

"At this point," Selima continued, "I would even settle for an illegitimate child, so long as the mother was a pureblood! I don't suppose that you ever--"

"MOTHER!" Snape shouted, and Selima finally fell silent. He glowered at her and said, "Let me make this very clear. I will not marry. I have no illegitimate son or daughter, nor will I ever father one on any woman. Lupin is not some plaything, some lover to be kept on the side." He took a deep breath, then said in a firm voice, "I love him," and Selima's jaw dropped in shock. He took a bit of pleasure at seeing his mother at a loss for words, and he glanced over at Lupin, who was smiling at him tenderly, and felt even better. "He is my lover," Snape continued almost cheerfully. "My...for lack of a better word, my mate." 

Lupin's inner wolf growled happily. "And wolves mate for life," Lupin laughed.

"I know it's a myth that werewolves mate for life!" Selima snapped, finally recovering her powers of speech. "And anyway, Severus isn't a wolf!" She suddenly gave Lupin a suspicious look. "He hasn't ensorcelled you somehow, has he, Severus?"

"Only with my charm and good looks," Lupin said sweetly, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and Selima spluttered with rage. He supposed that he really shouldn't give her such a hard time, considering that her husband was dying, but she had given him a perfect opening and he just couldn't resist taking it. Besides, he figured that he was entitled to a little payback for her earlier attempt to buy him off, as if he were nothing more than a courtesan or a pampered lapdog.

"It has nothing to do with sorcery, Mother," Snape replied, the corners of his mouth twitching a little. "But I love Lupin, and to be blunt, I have no intention of ever sleeping with anyone else. And since Lupin is male, that means there will be no little Snapes forthcoming." Selima looked even more horrified at the thought of a Snape heir with werewolf blood, and Snape almost laughed out loud, but turned it into a little snort at the last moment. "Is that clear enough for you, Mother?"

"You selfish, spoiled brat!" Selima screamed, her face turning red with anger. "Is that all you can think of, your own desires, your own pleasures?!"

"Mother," Snape said, a little startled by the force of her wrath.

"Do you think it was easy, being married to your father for all these years?" Selima ranted. "Do you think it was easy for me, a young girl just barely out of school, to be married to a man twice my age that I barely knew? Do you think that I didn't have other suitors I might have preferred, other suitors younger and more handsome and charming? But I did my duty and married the man my family chose for me!"

Now it was Snape's turn to sit there staring openmouthed with shock. "You wanted to marry someone other than Father?" he asked weakly. Although he had known that his parents' marriage was a carefully arranged alliance and not a love-match, it had never occurred to him that his mother might have had "suitors".

Lupin eyed Selima with great curiosity and a hint of sympathy. "Were you in love with someone else, Lady Selima? I do recall that when we had lunch with you last Halloween, you told Severus that love is a flame that burns brightly but quickly dies out. Were you speaking from experience?"

Selima's face flushed a little. "That's none of your business, werewolf!"

Snape could not fathom it: cold, proper Lady Snape in love? Surely Lupin must be mistaken...

"Anyway, you're missing the point!" Selima continued hastily. "The point is, I did my duty regardless of what my personal preferences might have been! I made a match that greatly benefited my family. My husband is not the easiest man in the world to get along with, but I learned to live in harmony with him, and I did my duty as a wife by him. It is your turn to do your duty, Severus." Snape shook his head stubbornly, and Selima asked in a quiet and even voice, "Do you know why your father chose me as his bride, Severus?"

Snape looked startled by the question. "Because it was a good political and financial alliance that benefited both sides; didn't you just say so yourself? The Bashirs were wealthy traders but relative newcomers to England. They brought to the alliance their wealth and business connections, and my father brought his respected name and political connections."

Selima said gravely, "That is true enough, but there was more to it than that. Voldemort was right about one thing, Severus--the purebloods are slowly dying out. Look at the children who are entering your school--there are more and more Mudbloods and half-breeds every year, and fewer purebloods. There is only so much pure blood to go around, as the saying goes, and the remaining pureblood families are beginning to develop the flaws that come with inbreeding. There seem to be less children born every year; wizards are long-lived, and it was not uncommon at one time for a mother to bear several children, but now our women usually bear one, or at most two, children, and often have difficulty conceiving."

Snape thought about it; it was true that many of his Slytherins were only children, and few of them had more than one sibling. "What about the Weasleys?" he asked. "They're pureblooded and they breed like rabbits."

"Severus!" Lupin snapped.

Selima permitted herself a small and sardonic smile. "The exception that proves the rule," she said. "Do you see what I am getting at, Severus? My family was wealthy, my blood was pure, and not to be vain about it, but I was much admired for my beauty by the young men at Hogwarts. But because my family had emigrated to England from the Middle East when I was a little girl, we were regarded as foreigners, and most of the pureblood families were not eager to wed their sons to me. But Severin was more farsighted than that--he wanted me precisely because of my foreign blood."

"New blood," Lupin said slowly. "He wanted to strengthen the Snape bloodline."

Selima was not pleased that Lupin was the first to pick up on it, but she nodded at him. "Exactly. He didn't want his children to be inbred idiots like Crabbe and Goyle. And many of your Slytherin friends were emotionally unstable, like Andreas Avery--"

"He's not my friend," Snape grumbled.

"--although I'm not sure whether that's due to inbreeding or upbringing," Selima finished, ignoring him. "So you see, Severus, how carefully your father and I have planned to bring you into this world and ensure the Snape bloodline. All this effort has been made on your behalf, and now you must make sure that the Snape line does not die out!"

"No," Snape said quietly. "I am sorry, Mother, but I will not change my mind."

"You will squander our gift to you, make all I have endured and sacrificed for you for naught?!" Selima asked furiously. "All for some foolish romantic notion of love?! You will throw it away all for this...this...beast?!"

What little sympathy Snape felt for his mother quickly vanished. "I am sorry, Mother," he said in a cold voice, "that you feel your marriage was a waste of time. I am sorry that you feel it was a sacrifice, but I did not ask you to make it."

"I did it for you!" Selima screamed hysterically. "To bring you into the world! I gave up my own silly notions of romance, gave up my own name and left my family to become part of the Snape family, but I thought it would be worth it because my blood too would be passed down to the Snape heir! And now you're telling me that it has all been a waste, that you are throwing it all away?!"

Snape was taken aback by his mother's hysterics; he had seen her angry before, but he had never before seen her on the verge of tears. "Yes," was all he could say.

Selima turned to Lupin in desperation and pleaded, "Please, you can remain with him and be his lover, only let him sire an heir. If you loved him, surely you would want him to reclaim his rightful inheritance and see that he is not the last of his line. You can be his consort in all but name..." 

"I am so sorry, Lady Selima," Lupin said with sincere compassion, and the pity in his eyes made Selima want to slap him. "I know you did what you believed was right, and I am sorry that your sacrifice is for naught, but you cannot breed human beings to one another as if they were nothing more than dogs or horses, merely to make stronger offspring with no thought to love."

"We have been doing it for hundreds of years!" Selima snapped.

"Then perhaps that is why the purebloods are dying out," Lupin replied in an even voice, and some of the pity left his eyes. "You saw to your son's education and his physical needs--I am sure he always had food, shelter, and clothing, and lacked for nothing materially--but perhaps you should have made the effort to see to his emotional needs as well."

"That's enough, Lupin!" Snape snapped, flushing a little; he was not used to discussing love and emotions with his cold Slytherin family, who regarded sentiment as a weakness. To his mother, he said, "Gaining Lupin's sympathy will do you no good. Even if he literally threw me into the bed of some pureblood woman--which is highly unlikely, as werewolves apparently tend to be rather possessive--" Lupin smiled at him. "--I will still never sleep with anyone but Lupin. I will not sire an heir. Ever!"

Selima wanted to scream, wanted to weep with rage and frustration, at the thought of all those wasted years. She had might as well have dared her family's wrath and married the handsome but impoverished suitor she had secretly favored all those years ago; the end result would have been the same. Well, that was not entirely true...her family had benefitted socially and financially from their association with the Snapes, but what did she herself have to show for it? Nothing but a pigheaded, ungrateful son determined to disgrace his family and abandon his duties, all for the sake of a werewolf.

She wanted to weep, but she would not give Severus the satisfaction. She wanted to scream and to slap her son silly, but she knew it would do no good. Selima Snape was furious, but she was above all else, a practical woman. She finally realized that no matter what she said or did, Severus would not change his mind; he would never give them an heir. She would not have married Severin if she had been free to choose and follow her own desires, but she had married him, and she was a Snape now, like it or not, and she would do her duty as a Snape even if her son would not. So she swallowed her anger for the moment, and set her mind to the task of ensuring that the Snape line did not die out.

"Very well," Selima said in a resigned tone. "There will be no Snape heir of your blood or mine. Unless...are you sure there is not even the slightest chance that you might have had an illegitimate child, one you might not even be aware of?"

"There is no chance, Mother," Snape said firmly. "I have never slept with a woman in my entire life."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for," Selima sighed bitterly. "All right then, we must find another heir, some second or third cousin if we must. I will not see this estate go to the Ministry when your father dies."

"We?" Snape asked. "Why is this my problem?"

"Because you won't do your duty and make an heir of your own!" Selima snapped.

"Who is Severus's closest living relative after his father, then?" Lupin interrupted.

Selima frowned. "I'm not really sure," she confessed. "I'll have to check the family tree, but as I said earlier, all the pureblood families are so inbred that there is bound to be someone with Snape blood, although it will likely be rather diluted."

Lupin suddenly remembered something. "Theodore has Snape blood."

"Lupin!" Snape hissed, but it was too late to take back the comment.

Selima walked over to a nervous Theodore and examined him closely. He did bear a superficial resemblance to Severus, with his lanky build and dark hair, although Severus's black hair came from her side of the family, not his father's. He lacked the Snape nose, but Selima thought that was probably for the better. And his skin was fair, but it didn't have the corspe-like pallor that Severus's and his father's did. He was a good-looking enough boy, if not quite as pretty as Severus's other foster son...he might do, provided that he was also a good mage. Magical talent was much more desirable than good looks in an heir, anyway.

"Will you stop that, Mother?" Snape asked irritably. "He's not a piece of merchandise for sale!"

"Just how much Snape blood does he have?" Selima demanded. "And what about the other boy, does he have any?"

"I have no idea," Snape replied.

"Well, let's find out," Selima said.

"This is a waste of time," Snape grumbled. The boys already had inheritances of their own, and there was no way that he was going to subject them to the tender mercies of his parents by letting one of them be adopted as the Snape heir, but Lupin and the boys looked curious, and somehow they all ended up following Selima into the library where the tapestry depicting the Snape family tree was kept. It was made of black velvet and embroidered with red thread.

"Let's see," Selima said to Snape, tracing her finger along the branches of the tree. "Your great-great-great aunt married Theodore's great-great-great grandfather."

"Fascinating," Snape said sourly.

"The connection is a little weak," Selima continued, "but there isn't really anyone else with a better claim. A Snape woman married into the Malfoy family, so Draco Malfoy is a potential heir, but that was seven generations ago, so he has less precedence than Theodore, and quite frankly, I don't want to see the title go to Lucius's brat."

"Is there a Black in the family tree?" Lupin wanted to know. 

"Yes," Selima said. "Another Snape woman married into the Black family even farther back, and Severus's great-great-great-great grandmother was a Black."

"I knew it!" Lupin crowed triumphantly to a horrified Snape. "I knew you and Sirius must be related!"

"But I will never let the Snape title go to that arrogant little brat Sirius, either!" Selima said fiercely.

"I can't believe I'm related to the mongrel," Snape said disgustedly.

"What about me?" Dylan asked.

"Hmm," Selima said, examining the tapestry further. "A Rosier woman married into our family several hundred years ago, but she bore no children to her husband, and he adopted a nephew as his heir. There seem to be no more Snape-Rosier marriages after that; both families probably didn't want to risk another infertile union."

Dylan looked a little disappointed, and Lupin asked, "What about his mother's side, the Donners, or his paternal grandmother's family, the Talbotts?"

"There are no Donners on the family tree, but a Talbott woman did marry into the Snape family several generations ago," Selima said. "However, no Snape women married into the Talbott family, so although Dylan is distantly related to Severus, he has no Snape blood, and thus no claim to the Snape title." Dylan still looked a little cheered to learn that he was related to Snape, however distantly, but Selima paid him no heed, and began looking Theodore over again. "I suppose he'll do," Selima said grudgingly. "Is he a good mage?"

"An excellent one," Lupin replied promptly. "He gets good grades in all his classes--I suspect they would be even better if he hadn't held back a little because he feared annoying Draco." Theodore looked a little startled to hear that; it was true, but he hadn't realized that Lupin was aware of it. Lupin smiled and winked at him, then continued, "He seems to have a special talent for runes, according to Professor Blackmore, and he did very well in my class--he is able to cast a full Patronus."

"You are teaching your students advanced magic," Selima said, sounding surprised.

"It was for their own protection," Lupin said solemnly. "We were at war, after all."

Selima nodded, looking at Theodore with more respect. "Yes, I heard that they fought during the final battle." She turned back to Lupin. "He acquitted himself respectably?"

"Very," Lupin said.

Snape looked back and forth from his lover to his mother with alarm. "Now wait a minute--"

"Then he can put his magic to practical as well as theoretical use," Selima said approvingly. "Very well, Severus. If you will formally adopt the boy as your son, I will persuade your father to reinstate you as his heir."

"Now wait just a minute!" Snape said indignantly. 

Selima gave him an annoyed and puzzled look. "What are you complaining about? You don't have to marry and you get to keep your werewolf lover, and the boy is already your foster son. I would have thought that you'd be pleased to make him your real heir."

Snape tried to come up with an argument that would make sense to his mother, since she wouldn't understand his real objection to it. "If Theodore became a Snape, he would likely lose his claim to the Nott estate."

"I don't care!" Theodore blurted out. "I don't want it anyway!"

Snape turned and gave him a startled look, while Selima nodded. "Of course it doesn't matter if he loses the Nott estate; the Snape estate is worth far more."

"I don't care about the money!" Theodore shouted, upset that Snape might think he wanted to be adopted because he was greedy for a bigger estate. "I don't want your estate! I just want..." His voice suddenly trailed off.

Selima looked thoroughly confused. "You want to be a Snape but you don't want the inheritance?"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Theodore mumbled, staring down at the floor. "Forget I said anything. I don't know what I was thinking."

Lupin, Snape, and Dylan exchanged thoughtful and worried looks. "I think we need to discuss this further amongst ourselves, Mother," Snape said slowly. 

"Don't take too long, Severus," Selima said impatiently. "Your father doesn't have much time left."

"I'll let you know as soon as I've reached my decision," Snape told her. "But are you sure that Father will agree to this?"

"He would rather see a direct heir succeed him, of course," Selima said. "But despite his threat about giving the estate to the Ministry, he does not want to see his line die out completely. If there is no other option, he will accept the boy as your heir. At least he has some Snape blood; it's better than nothing. Don't worry about your father; I'll convince him to go along with it." She saw Lupin gazing at the Nott boy with a tender and concerned look, and suddenly realized that the werewolf was her ally in this, as galling as that was. It was he who had first brought up the boy's Snape blood and tried to convince her that he was a worthy candidate, extolling his praises of the boy's magical talent. Perhaps even if he didn't want wealth and security for himself, he wanted it for his foster son. Selima looked Lupin straight in the eye and said, "Just make sure you do your part." 

"We will do what is best for Theodore," Lupin said quietly.

Snape gave his mother a suspicious look, not sure why she and Lupin seemed to be sending each other unspoken signals all of a sudden, but he had other things to worry about right now. He placed his hand on Theodore's shoulder and said, "Come, let's go home now." Theodore nodded without looking up, and they all quietly headed back to the drawing room, and back to Hogwarts through the Floo.

*** 

They sat together in Snape's personal quarters to talk. Dumbledore sent Dobby to bring them a tray of food since they had missed dinner, but the food sat there untouched because nobody was really hungry right now. Theodore kept staring at the floor, unwilling to meet Snape's eyes.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, then Snape finally cleared his throat and asked, "Do you want to be adopted into the Snape family?"

"I said I was sorry," Theodore mumbled, a little sullenly. "Just forget I said anything, okay?"

Lupin put an arm around him and said gently, "No one is angry with you, Theo." He shot Snape a quick glare that said he had better reassure the boy of that.

"I'm not angry or offended, Theodore," Snape said quickly. "Just a little confused. I can't imagine why anyone would want to be a part of that family after having met my parents. I just want to understand exactly what it is you want." Did he hate being a Nott so much that he was willing to become a Snape so that he could give up his father's name?

Theodore finally looked up at Snape and said urgently, "I really don't care about the inheritance, Professor. I don't care about the money or the title."

"But you do want to be adopted into the Snape family?" Snape asked, still confused.

Lupin thought he understood what Theo wanted. "It's okay, Theo," he said softly, giving him an encouraging smile. "We're your family; I hope you know by now that you can trust us." Theodore hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Just tell us the truth, Theo. We want to understand how you feel. Do you want Severus to adopt you?"

"Yes," Theodore whispered.

"But why?" Snape asked, still looking bewildered. Lupin gave him an affectionate but slightly exasperated smile.

"Just tell us the truth, Theo," Lupin repeated in a gentle voice as the boy hesitated again. "It's all right."

"Because Dylan's your favorite!" Theodore finally blurted out, as Snape and Dylan stared at him in shock. "I mean, I'm not complaining or anything," he added hastily. "It's only natural; he's your best Potions student, and everyone knows you've been looking after him since he came to Hogwarts because his father was your friend. So it's no surprise that you wanted to foster Dylan after his mother died, but I know you only took me in because you felt sorry for me." 

Snape opened his mouth, but before he had a chance to speak, Theodore continued, his words coming out in a rush, "It was probably Remus's idea, wasn't it? I mean, I'm not complaining, honest! I'm very grateful to you, but...but...I just thought..." His voice dropped to a whisper and his gaze fell back to the floor. "I thought that if you adopted me and I really was your son, not just your foster son, that would sort of make me equal to Dylan. I'm sorry, that sounds really dumb, doesn't it? It was a stupid idea; please just forget about it."

Snape just sat there looking totally stunned, and Dylan looked a little guilty. "You know, you're wrong about it being my idea to foster you, Theo," Lupin said, still in that quiet, gentle voice. "I mean, of course I would have proposed it if Severus hadn't thought of it first, but it was Severus who came to me and said that we should foster you."

Theodore looked up in surprise. "Really?"

"Really," Lupin said firmly, giving him a hug. 

"It's true, Theo," Dylan said earnestly. "They weren't even really planning to foster me at first."

"We love Dylan, of course," Lupin interjected, "but we assumed that his great-uncle and aunt would take custody of him."

"They found out at the last minute that my mother had appointed them as my guardians in her will," Dylan continued. "They told me that they had already petitioned the Ministry for permission to foster you, and I thought that was great; we were already friends, so I thought it was really cool that we'd be brothers, too." He looked anxious. "You don't hate me, do you, Theo? I never meant to make you feel like...like you were second-best or something."

"I don't hate you, Dylan," Theo said softly, looking ashamed of himself. "I'm just being stupid like Draco." He tried to smile, but it came out a little crooked. "You know it drives him crazy that you seem to be the best at everything you do."

Snape was still in shock. It had never occurred to him that Theodore might be jealous of Dylan. His jealousy of Potter was understandable, of course, because they were competing for Lupin's affections; no one had ever really competed for Snape's affections. Other than Dylan and Draco, most of his students did their best to avoid him, and Draco had not so much wanted his affection as he had confirmation of his self-importance, although his postwar experiences seemed to have humbled him for the better. 

But Theodore...they had begun to form a tentative bond once he realized that Thaddeus was abusing the boy and had tried to protect him, but Theodore still seemed to regard Snape as his intimidating Head of House, to some degree. The boy had formed a close relationship with Lupin; the sentimental Gryffindor werewolf had no trouble lavishing affection on his "cubs": hugging them, comforting them, tucking in them into bed, and so on. Snape had thought that the boys were receiving all the love and affection they needed from Lupin, but clearly he had been wrong, and he had no idea how he was supposed to proceed from here. He gave Lupin a helpless look, and Lupin gave him an impatient one in return.

"You need to tell Theo how you feel, Severus," Lupin finally said, as if he were explaining the obvious to a rather dimwitted child.

Snape would rather be tortured by Death Eaters than sit around discussing his emotions, especially since they were rather muddled at the moment, but that wasn't really an option, so he took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and began to speak. "I'm sorry, Theodore," he said awkwardly. "I didn't realize you felt that way. I never meant to give the impression that I favored Dylan over you, and I didn't take you in because of pity."

"Why did you, then?" Theodore wanted to know.

Snape had been afraid he was going to ask that. "It's difficult to explain," he sighed; the reasons weren't entirely clear in his own head, because they involved emotions and memories that he preferred not to examine too closely. "Partly because as your Head of House, I am responsible for your well-being."

"Heads of House don't normally go around adopting orphaned students," Theodore pointed out, "no matter how dedicated they are."

Snape had known that first reason would not be enough. "And also because," he continued, "I felt personally responsible for you because of my involvement with the Death Eaters. I should have realized that your father was abusing you. I should have taken you away from him when I did realize it, but I could not, because that would have exposed my cover."

"So you felt guilty," Theodore said, not seeming to find that particularly comforting. 

Snape shook his head. "No. I mean, yes, of course I felt guilty, but it was more than that. Do you remember what I told you when we were talking in my office last Halloween, after I discovered the burn on your wrist? What I said when you asked me why I was helping you?"

"You said your father was like mine," Theodore whispered. "That he used the Cruciatus Curse on you when you were a kid. And that your mother never tried to stop him."

"Yes," Snape said. "I wanted..." He paused, trying to organize his thoughts and choose the right words. "I could not protect you when your father was alive, but I at least wanted to give you a home after he died. I wanted to give you a better life than the one I had."

Theodore suddenly remembered what Snape had shouted at his father earlier tonight, when Severin had asked him why he had taken in Thaddeus Nott's son: "So that he wouldn't have to grow up in a house like this one!" He felt a sudden flicker of hope and asked, "You really mean that?"

Snape saw that Theodore was looking hopeful but not entirely reassured. "Yes," he replied. "It was partly guilt and duty that first motivated me to look after both you and Dylan." Dylan looked a little startled to hear this. "Duty, of course, because Evan was my friend--not a very close friend, but still, one of the few friends I had. And guilt, because I could not save Evan and Lyall."

"But you weren't there when they died," Dylan said, looking confused. "It wasn't your fault."

"I never tried to persuade them to leave the Death Eaters," Snape said. "I wanted to, but I was afraid they would refuse, and then I would have been exposed as a traitor. I was not so much worried for my own life, but--"

Dylan immediately understood. "But then the Order would have lost a spy." He was stunned by this revelation, but he could not bring himself to resent his foster father, not when his eyes were filled with such grief and guilt. "It never occurred to me that you might have tried to get them to switch sides," Dylan said, "but I don't think it would have worked. Mother said that Dad was very stubborn and he believed passionately in what he was doing. And Professor Blackmore tried to convince him to surrender, and he wouldn't listen to her, so I don't think that you could have changed his mind, either. I don't blame you, Professor."

Lupin smiled when he looked into Severus's eyes and saw that heavy burden of guilt ease somewhat. He would still probably always feel some responsibility for Evan's and Lyall's deaths, but Dylan's words seemed to have offered him some comfort and absolution, and Lupin was incredibly grateful for that.

"Thank you," Snape whispered, closing his eyes for a moment, then he opened them and got himself under control again. "As I was saying, I started out looking after you two because of guilt, but gradually it became more than that. I..." He hesitated, stumbling over his words. "I...ah...grew closer to both of you, and...well...I have come to...ah...care for you..."

"Oh, for God's sake, Severus!" Lupin said impatiently. He knew that Severus loved the boys, and he thought that Dylan already knew that, but Theodore needed to hear it said aloud, and he needed to hear it from Severus's lips, not Lupin's. "Is it really that hard to say the words?"

"Yes, Lupin," Snape said, looking a little peeved, "it is!" Dylan suddenly laughed, breaking the tension, and Snape smiled sheepishly. "I'm not a sentimental Gryffindor like you, Lupin," Snape complained. "I'm not used to talking about these things."

"Just say it, Severus," Lupin said, more kindly this time. His eyes twinkled with mischief and affection, and he said coaxingly, "Come on, you can do it. Can it really be harder than letting me kiss you in front of the entire school?"

"Please don't remind me of that, Lupin!" Snape grumbled, and Dylan laughed again and even Theodore smiled a little. But Snape knew it was time to stop stalling; he took a deep breath and said, "I...I love you both as if you were my real sons." 

Dylan smiled, his eyes filling with tears; he knew that already, of course, but it made him happy to actually hear the words. Theodore gasped, then buried his face in his hands and began to sob uncontrollably. Lupin slid down the couch, away from Theodore; he wanted to hold the boy, of course, but he needed to be comforted by someone else this time. 

Snape sighed, came over and sat next to Theodore, and awkwardly put his arms around the boy. He patted Theodore on the back and tried to say things like, "There, there," and "it's all right," in a soothing tone of voice. The boy was clinging to him tightly, and Lupin was grinning like an idiot, so Snape supposed that he was doing all right. Dylan went over to Lupin and laid his head on the werewolf's shoulder, and Lupin slipped an arm around him and gave him a little hug. Snape was grateful that, thank Merlin, Dylan did not seem to be jealous or resentful of Theodore; one jealous child was all he could handle right now. In fact, Dylan even smiled tenderly at his foster brother as Snape comforted him, and Snape gave him a grateful smile in return.

Theodore eventually stopped crying and pulled away to wipe his face on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Snape said, gently brushing strands of the boy's hair--damp with tears--back from his face, and Theodore smiled at him with a look of incredulous joy and love and trust, and Snape felt suddenly humbled, wondering what he had done to deserve it. Snape felt a surge of mingled tenderness and protectiveness so intense that it almost hurt and he realized that yes, he did indeed love the boy, as much as he loved Dylan. He had for quite some time, he supposed, he had just not consciously thought about it or admitted it out loud to himself, although Lupin had probably known all along; the werewolf was annoyingly perceptive about such things.

"I love both you and Dylan," Snape said; it was a little easier the second time around. "The only reason I never considered formally adopting either of you before was because I didn't want you to lose your inheritances, since I had none of my own to give you." Snape paused for a moment. "Well, actually there are two reasons, I suppose. I never dreamed that my family would be willing to reinstate me as heir unless I married and sired a child, but apparently they are, so I would be able to give you an inheritance, after all. But my father is a cold, sadistic bastard, and my mother...well, you've seen what she's like. I didn't want to subject you to their cruelty and scheming and power plays. I would not want anyone I cared about to have to live in Snape Manor."

Theodore shrugged. "They're no worse than my own parents were. And they wouldn't be adopting me...you would." He added shyly, "If you want to, that is. You don't have to, really."

"I would be honored to have you as my son," Snape said hoarsely, feeling his eyes sting a little. The werewolf was already sniffling and wiping tears from his eyes. Dylan smiled wistfully, still leaning against Lupin.

"Then I'd like that, sir," Theodore said, tears forming in his eyes as well. He paused to wipe them on his sleeve, then continued, "You don't have to make me the Snape heir, though. I really don't care about the inheritance."

Snape patted him on the shoulder. "I know," he said. "But I do want you to have it, if you think you can stand putting up with my mother. If you give up the Nott name, your father's relatives will likely challenge you for the Nott inheritance."

"They can have it," Theodore replied immediately. "I never wanted it in the first place." He paused, then looked a little intimidated as he asked, "Will I have to live in Snape Manor?"

"No, at least, not for awhile," Snape replied. "For one thing, you'll still be attending school for another year. For another, I'll make sure that it's clear in the adoption papers that I am your legal guardian and that my parents have no power over you. I'll contact Morrigan De Lacy in the morning and have her draw up the papers."

Something suddenly occurred to Theodore. "Will Remus still be my foster father if you adopt me?" he asked anxiously.

Lupin smiled, feeling deeply touched. Theo and Dylan would always be his "cubs" no matter what the law said, but he would hate to give up his formal status as Theo's guardian, and he was glad that it seemed to mean a lot to Theo as well. "I will always regard you as my son, Theo, and we will always be family, no matter what the law or the official court documents say," Lupin said tenderly.

"It would be a bit unusual," Snape said, "but I don't think there's any rule or law against it. I will have Morrigan insert a clause stating that Lupin is still your co-guardian." Snape frowned as he realized that there were very important reasons other than sentiment why Lupin should retain his legal status as Theodore's guardian. "And stating that Lupin will receive custody of you if anything happens to me." Lupin glanced up, looking startled and distressed; he clearly didn't want to even contemplate such a thought. "It's important, Lupin," Snape insisted. "Otherwise my parents would be next in line to take custody of him." His voice hardened. "And I will never, ever give them the chance to harm another child."

Lupin went pale. "Yes, Severus," he said quietly. "You're right, it is important." He tried to smile reassuringly at Theo and Dylan, who were both looking alarmed. "Just a formality, of course. I am sure it will never become necessary, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Don't worry," Snape joked, "my life expectancy has increased dramatically since the Dark Lord was defeated." Lupin laughed, and the boys managed to smile although they still looked anxious. Snape hesitated as his gaze fell on Dylan. "You know I think of you as my son, Dylan, but it never occurred to me to offer to adopt you, because you cherished your father's memory so much. And I cannot offer you any inheritance, but if you wanted..."

Tears began to run down Dylan's face. "Thank you, Professor," he whispered. "I love you and Remus, you're the only fathers I've ever really had, but..." He gave Snape a pleading look. "But my father's name is the only connection I really have to him, I just can't give that up..."

Theodore watched his foster brother weep, then moved out of the way without being asked so that Snape could embrace him, and this time there was no jealousy in his eyes.

"It's all right, Dylan," Snape said gently as his foster son wept on his shoulder. "I didn't really expect you to. I just wanted you to know that I...well..."

"Love you," Lupin finished with a grin. "Even though he's too much of a typical repressed Slytherin to feel comfortable saying it out loud."

Dylan laughed a little through his tears. "Thank you, Professor. It really does mean a lot to me that you would want me to be your son. Thank you so much."

Snape smiled and said, "As Lupin said, we are family, no matter what the legal documents say, no matter what name you use." He ruffled Dylan's hair fondly. "Besides, I would not like to see the Rosier name die out, either. It seems appropriate that there should be a Rosier at Hogwarts each generation, stirring things up at the school." Snape raised an eyebrow. "That was quite an entrance you and Miss Granger made tonight."

Lupin and Dylan laughed, and Theodore smiled. To Snape's great relief, the boys both seemed happy and content now. He wasn't looking forward to renewing ties with his family, but he supposed it was worth it to see Theodore looking completely content and at peace for the first time Snape could remember.

"It's getting late," Snape said briskly. "Have something to eat, and then you had better go to the dorm and get some sleep. Classes start tomorrow and--" He gave them a stern look. "--don't think that I'll be writing you any excuse slips just because of tonight's little jaunt."

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused, grinning at him. Snape supposed that he had just delivered the death blow to his already tattered image as the sinister Potions Master, but somehow he didn't really mind. The boys seemed to have recovered their appetites, because they quickly devoured their meals, then said goodnight and headed over to the dorm.

Lupin also ate heartily, but Snape only picked at his food. "I hope I'm doing the right thing," Snape sighed.

"You are, Severus," Lupin assured him. "Theodore needed to know that you love him as much as you do Dylan, and I'm not sure that anything other than this adoption would have convinced him." He sighed and shook his head. "It's very sad that Theo honestly seemed to believe that he isn't entitled to the same amount of love that Dylan is, that he should just be grateful that we took him in at all. We'll still have to work hard at reassuring him that we love him, Severus."

"I know," Snape said solemnly. "But I'm still not sure that bringing him into the Snape family is going to be good for him. My parents aren't much better than the Notts, you know--just more controlled and more subtle."

"We will be raising him, not them," Lupin reminded him. "And I don't think that either of us was planning to let him go to Snape Manor alone, so we will be there to protect him. Besides, your father isn't really much of a threat to anyone right now."

"True," Snape acknowledged. "I don't think he can even lift a wand, much less cast an Unforgivable Curse. And...he'll be dead in a few months, if what the Healers told Mother is true." Snape still wasn't sure how he felt about that. As a child, there were times when he had thought that he would be glad to see his father die, that he would dance on the bastard's grave. Now he found that he took no satisfaction in the fact that his father was dying, but neither did he feel any grief, precisely--more of a sense of unease and emptiness. He shook his head impatiently; he could worry about his own feelings later. Right now he had to think about Theodore's well-being. Aloud, he said, "But my mother--"

"She'll want to make him over into a proper pureblood heir," Lupin said. "But we won't let her. Besides..." He hesitated for a moment, then continued in a soft voice, "Selima is a stranger to him, after all, so her words, however sharp and cruel they might be, do not have the same impact on him that they do on you."

Snape grimaced; he didn't like hearing those words, didn't like admitting to himself that he cared what his mother thought of him, because that would give her power over him. "What was going on back at the Manor, anyway?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he'd intended. "It almost seemed like you were pushing the idea of an adoption." Lupin looked worried and a little hurt, so Snape softened his voice slightly. "Did you know that Theodore was jealous of Dylan?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, but I knew he was still insecure about his place in our family, and that he needed reassurance that we--and you especially--love him. I told you that your approval means a great deal to him."

"I didn't realize," Snape said, looking a little shamefaced. "You've always been the one that the children adore."

Lupin smiled. "I told you that you were more popular than you thought!"

"But I could have adopted him without dragging my family into it," Snape protested, then frowned. "Although then he would have no inheritance, but maybe Morrigan could have helped me find some way for him to retain his family estate if--"

"It's not just about Theodore," Lupin interrupted. He hesitated again, sure that Severus wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "I feel a little sorry for Selima; she will be all alone when your father dies--"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Snape said, scowling. "My mother's hardly the sentimental type, and she can always go back to her family if she starts getting lonely, which, quite frankly, is very hard for me to picture."

"How many people would want to go running back home to their parents at age...what is she, about sixty...?"

"Fifty-seven, but close enough."

Lupin blinked in surprise. "She really was young when she had you; she wasn't exaggerating when she said she was just barely out of school when she married, was she?"

Snape paused to think. "I believe they were betrothed shortly before she graduated, and were wed several months later--a proper pureblood wedding takes time to plan and arrange. I came along a couple of years later."

"And is your father really twice her age?" Lupin asked.

"She was eighteen when they married, and my father was almost forty, so yes. She was very young, and there was a large age difference between them, but it was an arranged marriage, after all. It was not so very uncommon back then, although more so now; parents are a little more indulgent of their children these days."

Lupin was silent for a moment. "I don't condone the way she treated you as a child, Severus, but it sounds like she was a victim of pureblood politics herself--forced into a loveless political marriage to a stranger twice her age. Perhaps that is why she is so cold and bitter--and why she is so angry at you now. Because you escaped the fate that she did not."

"She didn't have to marry my father," Snape said sullenly.

"It doesn't sound like her family gave her much of a choice," Lupin pointed out.

"Not all choices are easy, Lupin," Snape said coldly, "but there is always a choice. She could have chosen to defy her family and risk disinheritance. I did."

"Not everyone is strong enough to stand alone, Severus," Lupin said softly. "I was not, to my shame and regret." Then he smiled and added, "Besides, if Selima had chosen to defy her family and marry her mysterious suitor, you would not exist, so I am very grateful that she chose to marry your father!"

"Well, there is that," Snape conceded with a wry smile. "But I still don't wish to reconcile with my mother."

"I don't expect you to forgive her or welcome her with open arms," Lupin said, his expression turning serious. "But we will have to have some contact with her, if Theodore is to become the Snape heir."

"I know," Snape sighed unhappily.

"Why did you turn out different from your parents?" Lupin asked softly, reaching out to caress his cheek. "Why are you not a cold-minded Slytherin scheming to climb the ladder of success and make a politically advantageous marriage?"

"Dumbledore, I suppose," Snape muttered reluctantly. "And Branwen. And most of all, you." He caught Lupin's hand and held it against his cheek for a moment. "Perhaps if I had never met you, I could have resigned myself to marrying whatever woman my parents chose for me. But once I had been with you, I couldn't stand the thought of making a cold, loveless marriage like theirs." The old pain and sorrow of their long separation were reflected in Snape's black eyes, but there was also a hint of amusement, as Snape smiled and lifted Lupin's fingertips to his lips and kissed them tenderly. "You have forever ruined me for anyone else, werewolf."

Lupin grinned. "No wonder your mother hates me! But seriously, Severus, perhaps for Selima there was no Dumbledore, no Branwen, no Lupin, no one to show her that there was a different path she could have chosen. Perhaps she--and your father--were only doing what their own parents had taught them. I shudder to think what their families must have been like, for them to think that punishing a child with a Cruciatus Curse was a normal and acceptable thing to do."

Snape scowled again. "Must you be so damn reasonable and fair-minded, Lupin? What you're saying is probably true, but this is not a fairy tale, and I hope you're not expecting a happy ending. My parents are too set in their ways to change."

Lupin thought that it was probably too late for Severin, but he had some hope for Selima. Maybe he was just being a naive, idealistic Gryffindor, but he had heard the pain beneath the anger in her voice when she had been raging at Severus about all the sacrifices she had made for him. She had once been capable of feeling love, and perhaps that capacity could still be reawakened; surely someone who could feel such pain was not as cold as she outwardly appeared to be. And what Lupin also found encouraging was that Selima showed the ability to adapt and change. It was clear that she despised her son's werewolf lover, but she was willing to put up with his presence, even grudgingly enlist his aid, to ensure the Snape succession. Maybe someday their uneasy truce would grow into tolerance, or even acceptance. A bit far-fetched, no doubt, but Lupin resolved to try his best to bring it about, for Severus's and Theo's sakes. Lupin smiled inwardly; he could not fight his Gryffindor optimism any more than Severus could his Slytherin cynicism.

But Lupin said none of this out loud, because he knew that it would take more than hope and good intentions to change his lover's mind; only time, and Selima's own actions, could make that happen. So all he said was, "For now, I will settle for a truce."

"Yes, that's the best we can hope for right now," Snape sighed. "Although I'd call it more a state of cold war than a truce. But I'll contact Morrigan about the adoption papers first thing tomorrow morning."

"You know, Severus," Lupin said musingly, "it just occurred to me that eventually we're going to go through the same problem again." Snape gave him a blank stare. "When Selima finds out that Theo isn't likely to marry a proper pureblood girl and sire a child, either."

Snape grinned wickedly. "I hadn't thought of that, but you're right! But it doesn't matter, so long as she doesn't find out about it until after my father dies. Then I will be Lord Snape, and she will have no power to disown me, or Theodore. And he's young enough that she won't seriously consider arranging a marriage for him for at least a couple of years, so by the time she finds out the truth, it will be too late." He cackled, suddenly looking much more cheerful. "Ah, I can't wait to see the expression on her face!"

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, my love," Lupin said, laughing. He rose to his feet and held out his arm; Snape took it and they headed to the bedroom together.

Snape cackled again. "Selima Snape, scion of one of the shrewdest merchant clans in the wizarding world, outsmarted by a Gryffindor werewolf!" 

"You say that as if 'Gryffindor' were synonymous with 'stupid,'" Lupin complained.

"Normally it is," Snape chuckled, "but I will acknowledge that you are as clever and devious as any Slytherin, Lupin!"

"High praise, coming from you," Lupin said with a smile, and kissed him.

*** 

"I'm really sorry, Theo," Dylan apologized again, as they headed back to their dorm. "I had no idea you felt that way."

"It's not your fault," Theodore assured him, feeling very embarrassed. "I was being stupid. It's just that you've always been so close to the Professor..."

"It's just that I've known the truth about him longer," Dylan said. "I learned that he was working against the Death Eaters towards the end of my fourth year, and a shared secret tends to bring people closer together. But I knew he cared about you, too, Theo. He wouldn't have fostered you if he didn't, or paid for Morrigan De Lacy to get our estates back, or have gone into such a rage when Blaise's father wrote that letter demanding that you and Blaise be separated."

Theodore felt even more stupid now that Dylan had pointed these things out to him. Snape had shown by his actions, if not by his words, that he cared about Theo. "I thought maybe he just felt sorry for me."

Dylan snorted. "Snape is not the type to go around feeling sorry for people! Lupin, maybe, but not Snape. He does his best to look after the Slytherins, but I don't think that he would have taken just anybody into his home, Theo."

"You're right," Theodore admitted.

"Are we okay now?" Dylan asked anxiously. "You're not mad at me?"

Theodore shook his head. "I was never mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong; you were always a good friend and brother to me. I just wanted to be as close to the Professor as you are."

Dylan smiled, looking relieved. "I envy you a little, Theo, that you get to be the Professor's real son."  "But you could have--" Theodore started to say, looking startled.

Dylan shook his head. "No, I can't help but feel like I would be betraying my father somehow, if I gave up his name. Even if I never really knew him, even if he was a Death Eater, I still love him. And it was important to my mother that I be a Rosier."

"Are you okay with this?" Theodore asked, beginning to feel a little worried; it had never occurred to him that Dylan might envy HIM! "With me becoming a Snape?"

But to his relief, Dylan smiled warmly at him. "I'm fine with it, Theo; I'm happy for you. It doesn't really matter what our last names are--Snape, Lupin, Rosier, Nott--we're all still family."

"You're right," Theodore agreed again. He supposed it was a little silly that a small thing like changing his last name should make him so happy, but it did.

They entered the dorm, and to their surprise, there were a number of students waiting for them in the common room despite the late hour: Draco, Serafina, Damien, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent, and Brad. As soon as Theo and Dylan walked into the room, they all looked up with concerned looks on their faces.

"Is Professor Snape okay?" Draco asked.

"And is his father really dying?" Pansy added.

"Yes, he's okay, and yes, his father is dying," Dylan replied.

Brad frowned. "How can he be okay if his father is dying?"

"He's not that close to his family," Dylan explained. "They disowned him, remember? Of course he's a little upset, but I think he'll be all right."

"And keep quiet about it," Theodore cautioned. "He won't like people gossiping about his personal life."

"Of course we won't gossip about it!" Pansy said indignantly. Theodore raised his eyebrows, giving her a skeptical look.

"None of us want to get turned into a toad," Damien joked.

"But you can bet everyone else in the school will be gossiping about it behind his back, after that Howler!" Pansy continued. 

"I hope the Gryffindors are stupid enough to gossip about it to his face," Draco muttered.

"What's going to happen now, anyway?" Millicent wanted to know. "I mean, will the Snapes make the Professor their heir again? He is their only child; there's no one else to give the title to, unless they go looking for distant cousins."

Dylan and Theo exchanged a look; Theo shook his head slightly. He didn't want to talk about the adoption until it had been legally formalized, almost afraid that he might jinx things by talking about it out loud, and besides, as he had told Pansy, Snape wouldn't appreciate them discussing his personal business casually with their classmates. Although if Theodore really did become a Snape, they would find out soon enough, but he would let Snape decide how and when to tell everyone about it.

"He and his family are still trying to work things out," Dylan said cautiously. "That's one of the reasons why his mother wanted him to come home. But it's not our place to talk about it; that's between the Professor and his parents."

"Meaning it's none of our business," Serafina said firmly, giving her housemates a slightly reproving look. "We just stayed up to make sure that the Professor was all right. Now that we know he is, we should all go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am!" Draco said with mock fear, and she smiled a little. "Besides," he added with a grin, "if the Snapes reinstate the Professor as their heir, word will spread soon enough. The Ministry clerks aren't very good at keeping secrets."

Everyone said goodnight, and they all headed to their rooms. "Is everything really okay, Theo?" Blaise asked when they were alone.

Theodore nodded. "Snape wants to adopt me," he said.

"What?!"

Theodore hadn't meant to spring it on Blaise out of the blue like that, but he was so happy that the words had just slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. So he found himself explaining, a little haltingly, how he had been jealous of Dylan, how Lady Selima was intent upon finding a Snape heir, and how Snape had decided to adopt him.

Blaise smiled and hugged him and said, "That's great, Theo, I'm really happy for you," but Theo felt a certain amount of tension in his lover's body as he hugged him back.

"What's wrong, Blaise?"

"Nothing," Blaise said, a little too quickly.

"What is it?" Theodore asked insistently.

Blaise bit his lip for a moment, then said hesitantly, "It's just...if you become the Snape heir, won't you be expected to produce an heir of your own one day?"

"Oh!" Theodore exclaimed, as the impact of Blaise's words hit him, and he slapped himself on the forehead, then grinned sheepishly. "I'm so stupid! I didn't even think of that." Blaise was still looking anxious, so Theodore said reassuringly, "Don't worry, I don't think that the Professor and Remus will try to force me into an arranged marriage. I mean, how could they object to us--it would sort of be like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

"People aren't always logical about these things," Blaise said. "And Snape's parents--"

"Snape doesn't like his parents very much," Theodore said, unconcerned. "He won't listen to them. Besides, if they don't want to give me the estate, that's fine with me. All I want is to be the Professor's son."

"You don't think the Professor will object to us, then?" Blaise asked uncertainly.

"I don't think so," Theodore said, then grinned. "At least you're a Slytherin; I'm sure Dylan's romance with Granger bothers him way more! Besides, I'm not sure, but I think maybe Remus knows about us, or at least suspects. I'm sure he'll take our side and make things right with Snape." Theodore yawned. "I'm more worried about your parents."

"You're right," Blaise said, looking a little guilty, then kissed him lightly on the mouth. "I'm probably worrying about nothing. It's getting late; we should get some rest."

*** 

But Blaise remained awake after Theodore fell asleep in his arms, still worrying about pureblood families and their need for heirs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lupin's bedtime story is based on two Japanese folktales that I combined and embellished a bit: "The Wolf's Reward" from the book "Folktales of Japan," edited by Keigo Seki, and "The Blacksmith's Wife" from the book "Folk Legends of Japan" by Richard M. Dorson.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape adopts Theodore as his heir; and although the war is over, some students still hold grudges about the past.

Snape got up early (leaving Lupin snoozing peacefully in bed) and contacted Morrigan De Lacy at home, since it was not likely that she would be in her office yet. She might be annoyed at being woken up so early, but he figured that a fat retainer fee would likely soothe her irritation. However, she was already up and sipping a cup of coffee when he contacted her through his mirror, although she was peering at him sleepily through heavily-lidded eyes and her hair was falling across her shoulders in a wave of unruly curls instead of being neatly tied back or pinned up as it usually was.

"Severus!" she said, opening her eyes a little wider with surprise. "What can I do for you?" Snape explained, and she drained the cup of coffee in one gulp, suddenly looking wide-awake, her eyes glowing with interest. "I assume you want the papers drawn up as soon as possible."

"Time is of the essence," Snape said. "I will of course pay your usual fee, plus extra for the short notice."

Morrigan waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it; I'll send you a bill later. I can have the paperwork for the adoption drawn up by this afternoon, but Theodore will not legally be entitled to the Snape inheritance until your father signs a document reinstating you as his heir."

"My mother assures me that will not be a problem," Snape said, grimacing slightly. "Which reminds me, I need to tell her that I've decided to adopt Theodore."

"I'll contact Lady Snape and make the arrangements if you like," Morrigan offered. 

"Are you sure?" Snape asked, feeling relieved at being able to put off talking to his mother for a little while longer.

"Yes," Morrigan replied cheerfully. "I've heard a great deal about Selima Snape, and I look forward to finally meeting her."

"You might change your mind after you actually do meet her," Snape said dryly.

Morrigan just laughed. "If she gives me a hard time, I'll just add it onto your bill, Severus!"

Snape let out a little snort of laughter. "You will have earned it, I'm sure."

"I can bring the papers by after classes are over," Morrigan said.

"Thank you, Morrigan," Snape said. "Bring them to my office, I'll make sure to leave the Floo open for you."

After talking to Morrigan, Snape went to the registrar's office to get Aric Dietrich's transcript. He was looking it over when Lupin stumbled out of the bedroom and flopped down on the couch next to Snape. He yawned and snuggled up against Snape, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. "You're up early, love. What are you reading?"

"I got up early to talk to Morrigan about the adoption papers," Snape replied, frowning down at the transcript. "She's bringing them by afterschool."

"That's wonderful, Severus. Is this something to do with the adoption?"

"No, since I was already up, I decided to take a look at Mr. Dietrich's transcript record before class starts," Snape said, handing the folder to Lupin. "I wanted to get an idea of what we'll be dealing with."

"Well, there's nothing wrong with his grades," Lupin said, skimming over the transcript. "In fact, they're excellent. No demerits or black marks on his record, he was a Beater on one of the school Quidditch teams..."

"If these records are accurate," Snape said, "there's no reason for him to have switched schools in his final year. Although of course it's possible that Durmstrang might have left something out..."

"Maybe there's no sinister reason, Severus," Lupin said hopefully. "Maybe he just wanted to be closer to his family. He's had to spend a great deal of time away from home for the past six years."

"Maybe," Snape said dubiously, "but I think there's more to it than that. And it's clear that he and Theodore don't get along. That boy is trouble waiting to happen."

"Some people might have said the same thing about Draco and Dylan," Lupin pointed out. "I don't think that we should assume the worst of him without getting to know him first. He is related to Rafe, after all, and Rafe Dietrich was one of the kindest people I have ever known; there wasn't a malicious bone in his body."

"Rafe was an abnormality in his family," Snape said. "Not unlike your friend Black. And more to the point, the Dietrich family has held a grudge against the Notts all these years because they suspected Thaddeus was involved in Rafe's disappearance, and their hostility is only likely to increase now that Rafe's death has been confirmed."

"You think they'll blame Theodore," Lupin said, looking worried.

"Dumbledore didn't tell the Ministry and the Dietrich family the whole story," Snape said, "just that Rafe was killed because he was trying to prove that Thaddeus was a Death Eater. But I'm sure they can guess that Rafe probably died trying to protect Marta and Theodore, and now that Thaddeus and Marta are both dead, that leaves only Theodore to become the focus of their anger."

"You don't think that Aric or his family would try to hurt Theodore, do you?" Lupin asked, looking alarmed.

"I think that we had better keep a close eye on Mr. Dietrich," Snape said grimly. "Maybe this adoption is a good thing; they'll be less likely to move against the heir to the Snape family than they will an orphaned boy whose family doesn't want him."

"If Theo is in danger--" Lupin cried.

"Calm down, Lupin," Snape said, trying to make his voice sound soothing; Lupin's eyes were beginning to go feral as the wolf perceived a threat to its cub. "I don't think it will go that far; the Dietriches care for their safety and their reputation, or they would already have moved against Thaddeus long ago. I will drop a few not-so-subtle hints that a hero of the war and a former Death Eater are not to be trifled with, and I will have Aric expelled if he steps the least bit out of line. But I can't exactly have them arrested without any evidence just because I think they might become a threat in the future." Snape cursed under his breath. "I wish I knew what the old man was thinking, admitting the Dietrich boy to the school!"

"Maybe he would like to see Aric and Theo become friends," Lupin suggested, "and mend the rift between their families."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Snape said, a disgusted look on his face. "You know, sometimes you Gryffindors can take your idealism too far! The only likely result I see is that Aric and Theodore will be at each other's throats all year." He sighed regretfully. "Just once, I would like to have a nice, peaceful, uneventful school year!"

Lupin just smiled and said, "You would be bored to tears if that ever really did happen!"

"I can live with the boredom," Snape said dryly.

*** 

Dumbledore confirmed Lupin's guess at breakfast. "Aric's parents requested that he be admitted to Hogwarts, and I had no valid reason to turn them down--"

"Other than that they regard Theodore as the enemy because his father killed Rafe," Snape said pointedly.

"If I had to ban all the students whose families didn't get along with each other, these halls would be half-empty," Dumbledore replied, and Snape grudgingly had to admit that was true. "They haven't tried to harm or threaten Theodore in any way, have they?"

"Not yet," Snape said darkly.

"Aric is still young," Dumbledore continued. "There is still time for him to change--" When Snape snorted derisively, the Headmaster gently added, "As Draco and Harry have changed, as Theodore himself has changed."

Snape scowled. "I still think you're asking for a miracle."

"Maybe so," Dumbledore said, "but this is the last chance we have to mend things between them, as this is their final year in school. Once they are adults, if things continue as they are, it is not likely that they will spend much time together, and things will never change; they will hate each other for the rest of their lives."

"Is that really so bad?" Snape muttered.

"But if they are forced to spend a year together in close quarters," Dumbledore continued, ignoring him, "perhaps they will learn to get along, or at least to view each other as individuals rather than simply as enemies."

"I still think you're asking for too much," Snape grumbled, "but I'll go along with it, so long as Mr. Dietrich does not become a danger. But if his animosity shows the slightest sign of moving beyond words, if he casts even the smallest, most trivial of hexes at his cousin, I will ship him back to Durmstrang immediately."

"Agreed," Dumbledore said without arguing, somewhat to Snape's surprise.

"Perhaps everything will work out," Lupin said hopefully as he looked towards the Slytherin table.

"Not likely," Snape said pessimistically, but when he followed Lupin's gaze, he saw that Aric and Theodore were glaring at each other sullenly, but nothing more--no brawls, no hexing, no arguing. That was probably the best they could hope for right now. Snape shrugged and began eating his breakfast. Potter and Malfoy had managed to spend six years at school together without killing each other, after all, so Theodore and his cousin ought to be able manage one year. At least, he hoped so.

Meanwhile, Gryffindor table was abuzz with gossip--about Professor Snape, not surprisingly.

"I wonder what's going on?" Seamus said with his mouth full, then hastily swallowed as Lavender gave him a disapproving look. "With Snape, I mean. D'you think his dad is really dying?"

"I didn't know he had a dad," Ron muttered.

"Of course he has a father," Ginny said impatiently. "Everyone has a mother and a father!"

"His parents disowned him or something a long time ago," Parvati said. "Because he was a Death Eater. Pansy would probably know more about it."

They looked over at Snape, who seemed as grumpy as ever--maybe even more so than usual--as he argued with the Headmaster about something. "He doesn't exactly look like he's in mourning," Dean said skeptically.

"The Professor is not the type to show his emotions on the outside," Hermione said, looking worried. "I hope he's all right."

"Me too," Allegra chimed in. "I like Professor Snape; he's nice."

Everyone at the table stared at her in shock, except perhaps for Ginny and Hermione, although even they looked a little surprised to hear Snape described as "nice". 

"Nice?" Dean asked incredulously. "SNAPE?!"

"He is!" Allegra insisted. "I don't know why everyone thinks he's so mean! He was really nice to me and Blaise. He stopped by our shop with Professor Lupin to fix things with Daddy when he didn't want Blaise hanging out with Theo and Dylan because people might think he was a Death Eater. He convinced Daddy it was okay for them to be friends, and then he treated me and Blaise to lunch at this Japanese restaurant; it was really fun, we got to sit on the floor. And he and Professor Lupin threw a birthday party for Theo and Dylan that was really fun, too. Hermione and Ginny and Harry and Ron were there, too--didn't you think it was fun?"

"You went to Snape's house?" Dean asked Harry, looking even more shocked. "For a birthday party for Rosier and Nott?"

"Well, actually, it's Lupin's house," Harry said a little defensively. "And I think they only invited the rest of us because Hermione is seeing Dylan."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" Allegra insisted. "There were games and fireworks and cake and presents and--"

"It was lots of fun," Hermione agreed firmly.

"Anyway, I hope his dad isn't really dying," Allegra said, looking concerned again. "Maybe we can ask Dylan and Theo after breakfast?"

But after breakfast, Snape headed over to the Slytherin table and motioned for Theodore and Dylan to stay behind. Parvati waved at Pansy and Millicent, though, and they came over, along with Blaise and Damien, and confirmed that yes, the Professor's father was very ill and near death, but that was all they knew and that the Professor would not want them gossiping about it.

"But it's nice of you to be so concerned about the Professor," Damien added, smiling at Parvati and Lavender.

"Yes, well, he's not exactly what we thought he was," Parvati said, lowering her eyes modestly, then peering up at Damien obliquely through her thick, dark lashes. "He was very brave to spy on the Death Eaters and all."

Blaise gave his friend and the Gryffindor girl an exasperated look, wondering how they could manage to flirt while discussing the Professor's dying father. "Come on," he said impatiently, "we've got to get to class. You too, Allegra; you don't want to be late on your first day." He bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"Okay, Blaise," she said obediently, and ran off with the other first years.

*** 

"Come to my office after classes are over," Snape told his foster sons. "Morrigan will be bringing the adoption papers for us to sign."

"Yes, sir," the boys said.

An idea suddenly occurred to Snape. "And perhaps you could spread the word among your housemates that Miss Kendrick is Professor Blackmore's cousin." That way Snape wouldn't have to do it himself. "The Professor is concerned about the girl, and I'm sure she would appreciate it if her housemates made her feel welcome in Slytherin."

Dylan grinned. "Draco's already taken care of that, sir! At breakfast today, he said it was nice to see her again, and then of course Pansy wanted to know where he had met her before. Once they found out that Slaine was related to Professor Blackmore, everyone was falling all over themselves to be nice to her!"  Snape chuckled. "Good for Mr. Malfoy; he handled that nicely. He finally seems to be gaining a little subtlety."

"Oh, Draco's very eager to keep on Professor Blackmore's good side himself," Dylan laughed. "He still shudders a little every time Bane glares at him."

"Very well," Snape said. "You had better get to class, then, Dylan. And Theodore, since Advanced Potions is your first class of the day, perhaps we can walk down to the dungeon together."

"Yes, sir!" Theodore said, beaming happily as if he'd just been granted a special privilege. Snape smiled back at him, feeling pleased but a little bewildered; he still wasn't used to being regarded with anything but fear or loathing by his students. He was not quite sure when Theodore had changed from a sullen Death-Eater-in-the-making into the vulnerable boy who was so eager for his approval, although he supposed it had all begun last Halloween, when he had discovered by accident the hex-burn on Theodore's wrist. 

Or perhaps it had begun even earlier, when Dylan had entered Hogwarts and befriended Theodore, who had slowly begun shifting his alliances away from Draco's crowd to Dylan's. But however and whenever it had happened, Snape was grateful for it, and found that he was actually looking forward to becoming a father. Not that he wasn't already a parent to both boys; a name change and a signature on a piece of paper should not make that great a difference, but Lupin would no doubt say it was symbolically important or some such nonsense. Dylan cheerfully waved good-bye and ran off to class, and Snape and Theodore headed to the Potions classroom together.

*** 

When Snape got there, he found his students regarding him with curiosity, concern, or both. "I'm very sorry to hear about your father," Granger said earnestly.

"We are not here to discuss my personal life," Snape snapped. "I am here to teach you Potions, and you are here to learn; that is all. Everyone take your seats!" The girl gave him a hurt look that made him feel a little guilty, and Potter and Weasley glared at him, but they all hastened to take their seats. Maybe Potter and Weasley would mouth off to him and give him a chance to take some points off Gryffindor; the thought cheered Snape up a bit.

"We will begin with a Fire Shield Potion," Snape said. "Which is...?" Draco and Hermione immediately raised their hands. "Mr. Malfoy."

"As the name implies," Draco said promptly, "it provides the imbiber with protection from fire, so that one could handle hot coals with one's bare hands or literally walk through fire. Or--" He smirked at Harry. "--not be harmed by dragon's breath."

"Wish I'd known that before the First Task," Harry muttered, remembering how he had been burned during the Triwizard Tournament.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said. "Five points to Slytherin." Draco's smile grew wider. "Of course, it is only effective if prepared properly." The students began exchanging worried looks, except for Granger, who was apparently confident about her potion-brewing skills--with good reason, Snape grudgingly admitted--and Aric Dietrich, who was slouching back in his chair with his customary sneer on his face. "Thus, I am also giving you a second assignment at the same time: to mix a batch of Burn-Healing Paste, which should come in handy for those of you who fail to brew your potion correctly." 

He gave them his most evil and sinister Potions Master grin, which shook even Dietrich's composure for just a second, although he quickly recovered and put the sneer back on his face. It did, however, look less genuine, and Snape was pleased to know that he hadn't completely lost his touch, even if Lupin did claim that he had become a "softie". 

"Of course," Snape continued, "those of you who fail at both assignments will be in a spot of trouble, won't you?" Longbottom and Weasley went a little pale. Snape carelessly waved his wand and writing appeared on the blackboard, and the door to the stores cupboard popped open. "Follow the instructions precisely; deviating from them can have dangerous consequences." Longbottom and Weasley looked even more pale now. "And some of the ingredients are expensive, so don't waste them. There are only enough for each of you to create one potion, so if you make a mistake, you won't get a chance to start over; you'll simply have to take a failing grade."

"Like he's ever given us a second chance," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Five points off Gryffindor for your cheek, Weasley," Snape said, which did indeed make him feel much better; how nice of Weasley to oblige him. "Now get to work!" Snape slowly circled around the room, observing the students' progress; they all seemed to be working quite diligently. "Good work, Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini--you too, Mr. Malfoy." 

He noticed that Pansy and Millicent were working as a team; one girl was heating their cauldrons of water and steeping pieces of alder bark and stalks of vervain, while the other had begun slicing the saxifrage roots that would need to be added later. He had not told them that they could assist each other, but they seemed to be working more efficiently than they would alone, and after a moment's hesitation, he nodded approvingly at them. 

"Slice those roots more carefully, Mr. Corner. The fire under your cauldron is too high, Miss Patil; you can't rush the process." Justin Finch-Fletchley started a little as Snape came up behind him, and almost dropped the vial of salamander blood he was holding. "Be careful, Mr. Finch-Fletchley! Did I not tell you that some of these ingredients are expensive?"

"Sorry, sir," the boy muttered, flushing a little. He looked over at the Slytherin section of the room, perhaps expecting to see mocking looks, but only Aric snickered a little. The other boys seemed to be too busy with their potions to notice, and the girls actually looked up and gave him sympathetic, if somewhat distracted, smiles. Finch-Fletchley looked surprised, and truthfully, Snape was too. He heaved a sigh of resignation; Branwen seemed to have succeeded in infecting his students with her spirit of inter-House cooperation.

Snape was just heading over to observe the Gryffindors when Granger suddenly shouted, "No, Neville! You can't add the salamander blood and the Ashwinder eggs at the same time--you could cause an explosion!"

Snape instantly pulled out his wand and ran over to see Longbottom jerking his hand--which held an Ashwinder egg--back from the cauldron. Snape breathed a quick sigh of relief, then snarled, "Longbottom, you idiot! Didn't I tell you to follow the instructions precisely?"

"Oops," Neville said as he looked at the blackboard again. "Sorry, Professor, I guess I overlooked one of the steps."

"You could have set this classroom on fire!"

"I'm sorry," Neville said, looking frightened and remorseful; Hermione patted him on the shoulder in a comforting manner.

"He didn't know," Harry said defensively. "The instructions don't say that combining the two ingredients can cause an explosion."

"He wouldn't be combining them if he were following the instructions correctly," Snape said coldly. "And I did warn you that there would be dangerous consequences for not following the instructions. But I suppose I should have anticipated Longbottom's incompetence." Potter glared at him, and Snape was about to take five more points from Gryffindor when something suddenly occurred to him. "By the way, Miss Granger, how did you know that the Ashwinder eggs would react to the salamander blood that way? We never covered that in class."

"I read about it, sir," Hermione replied. "I was reading about the Fire Shield Potion in the Advanced Potion Brewing book that you--er, that Professor Lupin gave me, and I was wondering why the ingredients had to be added in that precise order, so I did some extra research over the summer."

Snape stared at her, feeling impressed in spite of himself, and wrestled with his conscience for a moment. The girl really deserved some extra points for that, but he couldn't stand the thought of giving points to Gryffindor. And he still remembered how the five points he had given Gryffindor in sarcasm last term had led them to be tied with Slytherin for the House Cup, when Slytherin could have won it outright if he hadn't. But on the other hand, he had just taken points away from Gryffindor, so he wouldn't actually be giving them anything extra...

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Snape finally said. Five points seemed a little measly, and what the hell--he could always find an excuse to take another five points off Gryffindor later.

Every person in the room stared at Snape in shock, including Hermione, although a huge smile quickly spread across her face. Harry and Ron just stood there with their mouths hanging open, and they weren't the only ones.

"WHAT?!" Draco shrieked.

"Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked in an icy voice, giving him a glare that said he had better not.

"Uh...no, sir," Draco said weakly.

"Then get back to work, all of you!" Snape snapped. "Your potions had better be ready to bottle by the end of class unless you want a failing grade!"

They quickly resumed working on their potions, although Aric glanced at Hermione, then at Draco, and said scornfully, "You two are such teacher's pets."

"Mr. Dietrich," Snape said, gliding over to Aric and hovering over him menacingly. "I expect my students to work during my class, not make idle chitchat. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Aric said sullenly.

"I do not know how things are done at Durmstrang," Snape said sharply, "but I expect you to treat me with respect and address me as 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times. Is that clear, Mr. Dietrich?"

"Yes...sir," Aric said.

His voice was carefully expressionless, but the long pause between the two words bordered on insolence. Snape was tempted to dock points from him, but that would mean taking points from his own House, which sort of defeated the purpose as far as Snape was concerned. "I'll be watching you carefully, Mr. Dietrich," he said, deciding to let it go with a warning this time. "Any further insolence, and you'll be serving detention."

"Yes, sir," Aric said, his voice respectful even if his eyes were not. 

Snape saw Theodore gloating a little out of the corner of his eye; he didn't normally mind playing favorites, but if he let Theodore lord it over Aric the way Draco had lorded it over everyone, it would no doubt lead to further problems. "And the rest of you," Snape snapped, letting his eyes rest on Theodore for a moment before moving on to sweep the rest of the classroom. "What are you looking at?" All the students hastily bent over their cauldrons, instantly becoming absorbed in their potion brewing. The rest of the session went by without incident.

"Bottle and label your potions and leave them on my desk," Snape said curtly at the end of the period. "They'll need to steep for a few days, so you will spend your next session making the Burn-Healing Paste." Snape grinned sadistically. "And then at the end of the week, we'll test your potions to see how effective they are." The students, particularly the Gryffindor boys, looked worried again. Enjoying himself immensely, Snape added in a cool voice, "Of course, if you followed the instructions correctly, you have nothing to worry about. For your homework: twelve inches of parchment on the uses of salamander blood in potion making. Class dismissed."

*** 

"Well, if Snape's dad is dying," Ron grumbled as they left the dungeon, "he sure doesn't seem to be too broken up about it!"

"You don't know how he's feeling on the inside, Ron," Hermione scolded. "He's very good at covering up his feelings; he had to, as a spy. None of us knew he was in love with Professor Lupin until we saw them kissing."

"I'm still trying to forget about that," Ron muttered.

Pansy giggled, "Well, I think it's very romantic!"

"You would," Ron said disgustedly.

"Is it true that Snape's family disowned him?" Harry asked. 

Pansy nodded. "A long time ago. I don't know whether it had anything to do with Professor Lupin or not; everyone just assumed at the time that it was because he had gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters. They've been estranged for years; that may be why he doesn't seem that sad about his father."

"He looked very upset when he got the Howler," Hermione insisted. "I'm sure he feels bad, but he just doesn't want everyone else to know it."

"I don't think Snape is as cold-hearted as he seems," Lisa Turpin said suddenly. "Dylan says that Snape was always kind to him."

"And he was a hero of the war," Justin added, to the surprise of his housemates. "I think he's changed a lot since last term--I mean, he actually gave points to Gryffindor!"

The Slytherin girls smiled, looking pleased to hear their Head of House being defended. "Not to Gryffindor," Millicent said, giving Hermione a sly look. "To Granger. Maybe he's decided to favor you now that you're Dylan's girlfriend." She and Pansy laughed as Hermione's face turned red.

"You do realize," Theodore pointed out, "that Snape is going to skin us all alive if he catches us gossiping about him like this." 

Pansy and Millicent just laughed again, but they changed the subject as they crowded around Hermione and said, "So tell us about how you managed to snag Dylan Rosier! We want to hear all about your secret romance!"

Hermione made blushing demurrals, but the other two were insistent, and Padma Patil and Hannah Abbott joined in, adding their pleas of, "Come on, you've got to tell us about it!" Hermione was a little embarrassed, but at least they seemed curious rather than hostile, and being the center of attention like this was a unique experience for her. She had never been popular, in her Muggle school or at Hogwarts, and had never really wanted to be, but having no close girlfriends other than Ginny, she found that she was actually enjoying being part of this laughing crowd of girls. 

So she let them cajole the information out of her, while the boys of the various Houses followed behind, shaking their heads in disgust, except for Blaise, who looked amused. Lisa joined the crowd of girls, giving Hermione a friendly smile, although she just listened quietly and didn't press for information like the others, while Susan Bones hung back a little, frowning.

Aric Dietrich trailed well behind the rest of them, lost in thought. The information his parents had given him was outdated, it seemed. They had told him that Snape was despised by his students, but the Potions Master actually seemed to be quite popular, despite his sour demeanor and his scandalous relationship with Lupin. Aric decided that he would have to reevaluate the situation. And he wanted to get a closer look at this werewolf lover of Snape's, who also seemed to be popular, at least among the Slytherins. Slytherins usually regarded those not pure of blood with contempt, and he wondered what had happened to change their attitude so drastically.

*** 

Lupin's first class of the day was his sixth-year Gryffindor-Slytherin Defense class. "It's so nice to see all of you again," he said, and they greeted him warmly, except for a Gryffindor boy named Martin Parry, who was staring down at his desk. Lupin frowned a little, wondering if the boy was troubled about something; he was normally cheerful and eager to learn. Well, he couldn't do anything about it now, but he'd keep an eye on Martin during class, and perhaps talk privately with him later if there seemed to be a problem.

"I thought we would continue with what I began teaching you last year on runes of warding," Lupin said, "which will tie in nicely with what you are learning in Ancient Runes and Incantations and Summonings. I'm sure you've noticed that runes are an integral part of the protective circles that you use during a Summoning. A circle can be used to confine someone or something--such as an elemental--or alternately, it can be used to protect yourself and keep something out. I'd like you to break up into groups and draw the sort of protective circle you'd use for an air elemental Summoning; I believe you covered that in Professor Blackmore's class last year. Then I'll show you how the circle can be altered by changing the runes. Here now, all of you get up, and let's move these desks out of the way to make some room."

Lupin was pleased to see that some of the children broke up into mixed groups without any prompting on his part: Damien, Dylan, Serafina, and Ginny were working together, and Brad Doherty had joined a trio of Gryffindors--Martin, Colin Creevey, and Melissa Carroll. Colin greeted him enthusiastically--they seemed to have become friendly after the final battle--and Melissa smiled politely; Martin scowled a little at the Slytherin boy, but did not object. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Brad, leaning across the circle to touch up a complicated rune, lost his balance and placed a palm down on the floor to catch himself, smudging the chalk lines of the circle.

"Watch what you're doing, you dolt!" Martin snapped. 

"Who are you calling a dolt?" Brad snapped back.

Colin and Melissa stared at Martin with looks of surprise on their faces. Lupin was surprised, too; the good-natured Gryffindor boy rarely lost his temper or raised his voice, but then again, he had been wary and suspicious of the Slytherins last year, as many of his housemates had been. Lupin had hoped that things would change after the war ended, but he supposed it would take people awhile to overcome long-held prejudices.

"Take it easy, Martin," Lupin said, gently placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He didn't do it on purpose, and it's easily mended."

Martin violently shrugged off Lupin's hand and snapped, "Don't touch me, werewolf!"

The entire class stared at them in shock, and Lupin was too stunned to react for a moment. Martin, like most of the Gryffindors, had never been bothered by Lupin's lycanthropy before; in fact, he had been quite friendly, and had once told Lupin that Defense Against the Dark Arts was his favorite class.

"Don't call the Professor a werewolf!" Brad said hotly, reaching for his wand.

Lupin placed a restraining hand on the boy's arm, but secretly he was a little tickled by how his Slytherin student--who had once regarded him with scorn--now leaped to his defense. "But I am a werewolf, Brad," Lupin said cheerfully.

That broke the tension, and the class laughed. Brad grinned sheepishly and said, "It was the way he said it, Professor."

Lupin turned back to Martin, who was staring at him resentfully. He definitely needed to have a talk with the boy, but he couldn't do it this afternoon, since Morrigan was coming by with the adoption papers. "I will see you in my office after classes tomorrow, Mr. Parry," he said quietly.

"Are you giving me detention?" Martin asked sullenly.

"Not yet," Lupin said, growing more worried by the minute. "But neither is it a request." He said in his sternest voice, "I will see you in my office directly after final bell tomorrow; that's an order."

"Yes, sir," Martin said, and returned to working on the circle. He behaved himself, working in sullen silence for the rest of the period, but Lupin was not reassured. Dylan, Damien, Brad, and Ginny lingered behind after class was dismissed.

"What's wrong with Parry, sir?" Brad asked. "I thought he liked you."

"I thought so, too, Brad," Lupin said helplessly. "Has he said anything to you, Ginny?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know why he's acting like this all of a sudden."

"By the way," Brad asked curiously, "why did you tell him to come see you tomorrow? Are you busy with something today?"

Lupin winked at Dylan. "Yes, I have some personal business to attend to this afternoon."

"Something to do with Professor Snape?" Brad persisted. "Is he okay?"

"I told you he was, Doherty," Dylan said.

"He is okay as he can be under the circumstances," Lupin said. "And yes, it does have something to do with...ah...the situation in the Snape family."

Dylan and Damien grinned at each other, and Ginny and Brad looked confused. Lupin supposed that Dylan had probably confided in his best friend, but not the other students.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked suspiciously. "What's the big secret?"

Lupin smiled. "I promise you'll all find out soon enough. Now you had better run along, or you'll be late for your next class--which if I'm not mistaken, is Advanced Potions, and you know how Professor Snape feels about tardiness."

The children picked up their books and ran for the door, but Brad paused midway and called back to Lupin, "Please tell the Professor I'm sorry about his father, sir!"

"I will, Brad," Lupin assured him.

"Why don't you just tell him yourself?" Ginny asked as they left. "You'll be seeing him in about five minutes!" But Brad just shook his head vigorously, and Lupin chuckled. He was not at all surprised that Brad had chosen to express his sympathies to Lupin rather than directly to his Head of House. Severus would probably be happy to know that his Slytherins were still intimidated by him.

*** 

"I'm so sorry about your father, sir," Ginny said as she walked into the Potions classroom. Snape scowled, but before he could say anything, Parvati and Lavender entered the room and approached him.

"We're so sorry, sir," Lavender said earnestly. "About your dad, I mean."

"We'd like to offer you our sympathies, sir," Parvati said solemnly.

Snape sighed; he had really liked it much better when the Gryffindors had hated him. Their sympathy was annoying, really it was, and not the least bit touching--no, not one bit! Then he wondered why he was mentally arguing with himself as if Lupin were in his head. 

He cleared his throat and said irritably, "He's not dead yet, so your sympathies are somewhat premature. Take your seats, all of you!" 

They quickly obeyed, and set to work on the Healing Potion he assigned them, but they all kept giving him concerned glances throughout the entire period, even after Snape took five points from Gryffindor when Miss Patil spilled her vial of lavender oil, although it was really Mr. Pierce's fault, because he had distracted her by winking at her flirtatiously while she was measuring it out. 

Miss Patil only said, "I'm sorry, sir," without any pouting or sulking, and Mr. Pierce quickly helped her clean up the spill with an apologetic smile. Snape sighed to himself again; it was going to be a long day...

*** 

Snape had one more class before lunch, a combined first-year class: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The old man must be tinkering with the combinations; he usually liked to pair Gryffindor and Slytherin together, but perhaps he felt it was no longer necessary to force them to spend time together now that the long-standing rivalry and hostility between them had abated somewhat.

"I'm so sorry about your father, sir," little Allegra Zabini said; Snape was getting heartily sick of hearing it. But she stared at him with such a look of wide-eyed earnestness and sincere concern that he couldn't bring himself to yell at her; it would be like kicking a helpless kitten or puppy across the room. 

"Thank you, Miss Zabini," Snape sighed wearily, "but your concern is not necessary. Take your seats, all of you." He set them to work on his usual first-year assignment, a simple potion for curing boils. Allegra did prattle endlessly as she worked, but she prepared her potion ingredients quickly and efficiently. Portia Pettigrew regarded Snape the way a spooked rabbit might regard a hungry fox, but she seemed competent enough--certainly more so than her uncle had been. She was clearly the squeamish type, though; she regarded the horned slugs that were one of the potion ingredients with distaste, prodding them with the end of her spoon as if she were loathe to touch them.

Allegra apparently was not as squeamish; she had already grabbed up a handful of slugs and tossed them into her cauldron. "Do you want some help with that?" she asked Portia cheerfully.

"No!" snapped Portia, and Allegra looked a little hurt, but just shrugged and turned back to her own potion. 

"I could use some help," Emma Creevey said shyly, and Allegra smiled and turned to help her.

Snape slowly circled the room, observing the students' progress, but he kept a sharp eye on Allegra. She chattered happily with her Gryffindor classmates (not seeming to care that some of them never responded to her), and made overtures towards the Ravenclaws as well. Jun Chang knocked over a basket of dried nettles, but before Snape could reprimand him, Allegra hurried over to help him pick it up.

"Thanks," the boy said, giving her a surprised smile.

"No problem," Allegra said cheerfully. "Say, you're Cho Chang's brother, right? Do you play Quidditch, too?"

"Yeah, but my sister's a lot better than me," Jun replied ruefully.

"Well, of course, she is--she's seven years older than you!" Allegra said matter-of-factly. "I'm sure you'll be just as good eventually."

"Say, how come you're a Gryffindor?" Jun asked. "Isn't your brother a Slytherin?"

Allegra shrugged. "Yes, he is. I thought I would be in Slytherin, too, but the Hat said I belonged in Gryffindor, that I would reach my full potential there. I'm not really sure what that means, though. My brother almost went into Ravenclaw, but he talked the Hat into putting him in Slytherin."

"Really?" Jun asked, sounding interested.

"Hey, Chang!" Corbin Talbott interrupted impatiently. "Get over here, we have to finish our potions!"

"Yes, Mr. Chang, Miss Zabini," Snape said sternly, "get back to work and save the chitchat for when you're outside of class."

"Yes, sir," they said--Allegra calmly and Jun with trepidation--and returned to working on their potions.

*** 

Meanwhile, Lukas Bleddri started his day off feeling rather nervous, although he was careful not to let the students see that; as a predator, he knew better than to show any outward sign of fear. He had prepared as well as he could, going over Karasu's lesson plans from the previous year, and getting some advice from Lupin and Dumbledore. At least the Physical Defense lessons had been reduced from three times a week to two, as a sop to the parents who had wanted them eliminated completely.

Or maybe it was not such a good thing, after all: the third session was being replaced with his Interspecies Relations class, which Lukas was positively dreading. He still thought Lupin ought to be teaching that class, not him; before he had met Lupin, Lukas would have sworn it was impossible for a werewolf to be so damn naive and idealistic. And it wasn't as if Lupin had led a sheltered life, either: even though he'd never been tossed out on the street by his family as some of Lukas's wolves had, he had still endured his fair share of poverty and prejudice. His own students had mocked and taunted him, yet he had borne it all patiently, swearing that they were all really "good kids" at heart, and that they would come around someday. 

And, impossibly, it seemed that they had--as far as Lukas could tell, Lupin was the most popular teacher in the school, even among the snooty, blood-conscious Slytherins. Why did that damned chirpy little idealist always have to be right about everything? Lukas didn't really like Snape, but he felt a grudging respect for the Potions Master--even though Lupin was his friend, he was certain that living with Mr. Sweetness-and-Light would drive him up the wall in no time.

Actually, Lukas's first couple of classes went well enough. They consisted of first-years, who were still young enough to enjoy physical exertion rather than find it beneath them. He tried to make the lessons into a kind of game to keep their attention, and soon they were tumbling about the room like a pack of playful puppies; in fact, he had to calm them down when they got a little too boisterous, but Lukas found that he was almost enjoying himself. His next class consisted of the sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins; Lupin's foster son Dylan was among them. He wasn't sure what, if anything, the boy had told them, but they all seemed to regard him with a mixture of awe and wariness. He ran through roll call, carefully matching names with faces and memorizing them; he didn't intend to have to call roll more than once. 

"Parry, Martin." Silence. Lukas looked up and frowned. "Is Mr. Parry here?"

The students were looking around with puzzled expressions on their faces. "I saw him in DADA class," Ginny said, "two periods ago. But I had Potions after that, and he isn't in that class."

"I think he had Muggle Studies last period," Colin said. "Aren't you in that class, Melissa? Is he sick or something?"

"He seemed okay to me," Melissa said uncertainly. "I mean, other than the way he acted in Professor Lupin's class..."

"What do you mean?" Lukas asked sharply.

The class exchanged meaningful glances. "Nothing," Melissa said nervously. "He was just a little...um...out of sorts."

"He was very rude to Professor Lupin!" Yvonne Deveraux announced indignantly.

"Really?" Lukas drawled in a tone of lazy, feigned indifference. So not all the students at Hogwarts were as enlightened as Lupin claimed...

"He likes Professor Lupin a lot!" Colin said defensively. "He's not prejudiced or anything, honest! He's probably just having a bad day or something."

"His day will be getting worse when I catch up with him," Lukas said grimly. Great; how was he supposed to go about rounding up stray students? He'd have to ask Lupin for advice--but then again, asking Lupin for advice was what had landed him in this mess in the first place. "I'll deal with Mr. Parry later; if any of you see him, you may inform him that he's just earned himself a detention." He imitated Snape's stern, no-nonsense tone of voice; he felt like an impostor, but it seemed to work on the students, who nodded, looking meek and chastened. 

Feeling a bit more like a proper teacher, he told them to demonstrate some of the exercises Karasu had taught them so that he could evaluate their progress. They went through some hand-to-hand combat and some staff and sword work; the Rosier boy and the Weasley girl were the best at it, moving with agile, almost wolf-like grace. Colin Creevey was probably the worst, but he made up for his lack of ability with great enthusiasm, working with determination and gusto no matter how many times he was hit or knocked on his backside. Brad Doherty was no good at hand-to-hand combat, and not strong enough to use the staves effectively, but he was light on his feet when using a sword (wooden practice swords only, since Lukas was not about to put live steel into the hands of children), darting about the room so quickly that his opponent could not lay a single hit on him.

"Hold still, you little git!" Damien panted as he chased Brad around the room. "Man, it's like trying to swat a mosquito!"

Lukas reached out and grabbed Damien's sword, causing him to come to an abrupt halt, and the boy let out a startled yelp as he stumbled and fell to the floor. Lukas offered him a hand up and said with a wry smile, "You will find, Mr. Pierce, that an opponent will rarely hold still so that you can hit him."

"Yes, sir," Damien said with a sheepish grin.

Lukas set them to work sparring against each other, trying to match them up against opponents of more-or-less equal ability, and circled around them, offering advice and correcting mistakes:

"Stop chasing him around the room, Pierce; you're just wearing yourself out. Hold your ground and try to lure him in to you. Deveraux, stop worrying about breaking your nails, and concentrate on your opponent; pretty nails won't do a corpse any good! Weasley, you're at a disadvantage because Rosier's reach is longer than yours; you can't take him head-on."

Ginny and Dylan were sparring with wooden swords; they were pretty evenly matched in ability, but Ginny was having trouble scoring a hit. She suddenly ducked low, Dylan's sword sweeping over her head, then darted forward and thwacked Dylan solidly in the midsection.

"Oof!" he exclaimed, losing his balance and falling backwards. 

Lukas laughed, "Very good, Miss Weasley! Five points to Gryffindor. A very gutsy and somewhat reckless move, but in this case it worked." 

"I'll be ready for you next time," Dylan said as Ginny helped him to his feet, then winced and groaned good-naturedly. "Ow, that really hurt! Did you have to hit me that hard?"

"Master Karasu said not to pull our blows," Ginny reminded him, then grinned and said to Lukas, "He said that pain is a great motivator for improvement!"

"Indeed it is, Miss Weasley," Lukas said, with a toothy, wolfish grin. His students quailed a little at the sight, but quickly shook it off and got back to work. Lukas was a little surprised; his feral grin and fang-like canines tended to unnerve most people, but he supposed that they had grown used to Lupin's smile, although the DADA Professor was more like a tame puppy dog than a wolf compared to Lukas. 

The rest of the session went well; his students worked hard and treated him with respect, and a few of them even gave him shy, friendly smiles when they departed, Doherty and Creevey among them. Dylan gave him a polite little bow and thanked him for the lesson--he had been almost extravagantly polite ever since arousing Lukas's anger at Lupin's cottage, when he had come uncomfortably close to exposing the truth of Lukas's origins--and Ginny said cheerfully that she looked forward to their next lesson with him.

Lukas stood in the empty classroom for a minute, feeling rather nonplussed; he wasn't used to being treated with anything but fear and contempt by "respectable" wizards, and he certainly wasn't used to having children smile at him in a friendly manner--save for the few children who had been born to his pack members, although most of his wolves had avoided having children, not wanting to subject them to the same misery their parents endured. He knew he should be happy--wasn't this what he had always wanted, what he and his pack had fought for, to be treated like equals? 

But he felt strangely uneasy and out of his depth; he had a sudden urge to tuck his tail between his legs--metaphorically speaking--and run back to his seedy but familiar haunts in Knockturn Alley. Only his wolfish pride prevented him from doing so; his pack was proud of him for getting a "real" job, a prominent position in a famous school, and he couldn't bear to disappoint them and show them what a coward he really was--he would hardly be worthy of the title of "Pack Leader" if he did. 

So he sighed and headed to the Great Hall for lunch, whispering to himself, "There's no reason to feel inferior; my blood is as good as any of theirs, if they only knew it." He smiled bitterly, for under different circumstances, he would have been the head of one, maybe even two, families of old and pure blood. But he did not really regret it, because he preferred the sincere loyalty of his wolves to the false friendship and backstabbing manipulations of the pureblood nobility.

Lukas joined his fellow teachers at the head table, taking a seat next to Lupin and Snape. 

"How are the lessons going, Lukas?" Lupin asked cheerfully.

Lukas shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. The older ones seem to have learned a lot from the crow. But you may want to teach them to make some sort of liniment or poultice to treat bruises, Snape."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed at the werewolf. "I'll take it under advisement. I did notice that Dylan was limping a little when he came in for lunch. Try not to do any permanent harm to my foster sons, Bleddri." His voice was deceptively mild, but his eyes held a menacing look.

Lukas wasn't offended, because he recognized the look of a wolf protecting its cubs. So he just smiled and said, "Take it easy, Snape; I didn't touch the boy. Miss Weasley did the damage, but he'll be fine--just a little sore for a day or two."

The Potions Master shifted his glare to the Gryffindor table and Ginny Weasley. "I don't see why the students still have to learn this Physical Defense nonsense," he complained. "The war is over."

"Voldemort was not the first Dark Wizard the world has seen," Lukas pointed out, "and likely he will not be the last--though hopefully we will never seen one that powerful again." Snape shuddered and nodded. "Besides, anyone can be taken by surprise in a dark alley by a robber or a cutthroat."

"People who go strolling through dark alleys deserve whatever they get," Snape muttered.

"It was a figure of speech, Snape," Lukas said. "They might never need these lessons, but then again, they might; you never know. Better for them to be prepared and not need the lessons, than need them and not be prepared."

"You sound like a dedicated teacher already," Lupin laughed, and Lukas scowled at him.

"By the way, Lupin," the werewolf leader said, "one of my students cut class today."

"Who?" Lupin asked, looking surprised.

"Martin Parry. One of the other students said that he had some kind of run-in with you earlier today. What happened?"

Lupin looked troubled. "He lost his temper and snapped at Brad about some minor mistake on the project they were working on. I touched his shoulder to calm him down, and he said, 'Don't touch me, werewolf!'"

"What?!" Snape exclaimed, looking more shocked than angry. "I thought Parry was one of your little Gryffindor devotees!"

"So it seems that Mr. Parry is hostile towards werewolves," Lukas said calmly. "It's not that uncommon."

Lupin was shaking his head. "Martin has never shown any hostility towards me. He even welcomed me back when I returned to school last year." He turned towards McGonagall and asked, "Minerva, are you aware of any personal problems that Martin might be going through?"

"No," she replied, "but I'll try to look into it. Mr. Parry is normally a very polite and conscientious student. There must be something wrong if he's behaving this way. I've never heard of him being rude to a teacher before, and he's certainly never skipped a class!"

"So what am I supposed to do?" Lukas demanded. "How do I make him show up for class?"

"You could start by docking twenty points from Gryffindor and giving him a detention," Snape suggested helpfully as McGonagall glared at him.

"Well, I'd already decided to give him a detention," Lukas said, "but it doesn't really seem fair that the other Gryffindors should be punished for his misdeed."

"That's the whole point, Bleddri," Snape said impatiently. "If a student does something wrong, it reflects badly on his House. And if you take points from his House, his housemates will pressure him to fall into line because they don't want to jeopardize their chances of winning the House Cup."

"I don't see what the big deal about this House Cup is," Lukas said. "It all seems sort of silly to me. The students don't win any sort of monetary or material prize, do they?"

Snape glared at Branwen, who had just burst into laughter. "Ah, it takes an outsider to put things into perspective, doesn't it?" she said. "It is sort of silly when you think about it."

"It's a matter of pride and status," Snape said coldly. "You wouldn't understand."

"Did it ever occur to you that Voldemort rose to power because of the pureblood obsession with pride and status?" Lukas retorted.

"You are right, Lukas," Lupin said quietly. "Although I'm afraid that the students with Muggle blood are just as gung-ho about the House Cup as the purebloods are. I believe it was originally supposed to encourage some friendly competition between the Houses, but over the years, it's gotten a little out of hand."

Lukas realized that they were getting off the subject. "Well, getting back to Mr. Parry--what sort of detention should I give him? And how am I supposed to give it to him if I can't find him?"

"He's right over there," Snape said, pointing to a brown-haired boy seated at the Gryffindor table.

Lukas stared at the boy and frowned. "He looks familiar; I feel like I know him from somewhere, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"You must be mistaken, Bleddri," Snape said skeptically. "I doubt many of the students would come to Knockturn Alley to engage in whatever sort of unsavory business you and your werewolves were involved in."

"You'd be surprised, Snape," Lukas said bitterly, "at how many wealthy young purebloods with too much money and time on their hands come to the seedy section of town looking for a thrill or a little contraband--some proscribed Muggle devices, perhaps, or a Potion of Sweet Dreams that St. Mungo's won't give them a prescription for..."

"Master Bleddri!" McGonagall exclaimed, looking shocked.

"We had to survive somehow," Lukas pointed out, his eyes still bitter. "And legitimate work was hard to come by."

"You're right," Snape said, dipping his head in acknowledgment with a small, sardonic smile. "Several of my classmates often went seeking such entertainment when we were younger. I should have said that I might expect it from the students of my own House, but not from the naive little Gryffindors."

"Surely you're not saying that Mr. Parry bought narcotics or black market goods from you!" McGonagall said indignantly to Lukas.

"No," Lukas admitted. "I'm sure I'd remember him if that were the case. Perhaps he just reminds me of someone."

"A father or older brother who might actually have...ah...done business with you, perhaps?" Snape suggested.

"Severus!" McGonagall snapped. "Don't throw around those kinds of accusations so lightly! The Parrys are a very well-respected family!"

Snape shrugged indifferently. "Lucius Malfoy also came from a very well-respected family, but whatever you say, Minerva." As McGonagall fumed, he continued, "Getting back to the detention, make sure it's something odious. The Gryffindors tend to be a bit squeamish--disemboweling horned toads works nicely for me."

"Perhaps the punishment should be something more constructive," Lupin said, giving Snape a disapproving look, "and in keeping with the crime--volunteering at one of the clinics that distribute the Wolfsbane Potion, perhaps."

Lukas snorted. "Oh, that's a great idea, Lupin!" he said sarcastically. "Do you really think it's wise to put some prejudiced, smart-mouthed brat in a place where he's bound to encounter some bad-tempered werewolves who might not be as forgiving as you or I?"

"Scrubbing bedpans is also very effective," Snape added cheerfully.

Lukas liked the sound of that. "Bedpans it is," he declared.

"Very well," McGonagall said. "I'm Mr. Parry's Head of House, so I'll tell him to report to the hospital wing this afternoon. And I'll make sure that he shows up at his classes from now on--he'll answer to me if he doesn't!"

"Fair enough," Lupin said. "But I am worried; the Martin I know isn't a bigot or a smart-mouthed brat. I've made an appointment to talk to him tomorrow afternoon to see if I can find out what's troubling him. I wanted to do it today, but Severus and I--"

"Have some business to attend to," Snape finished.

McGonagall gave him a more sympathetic look and said, "I understand. I hope Martin will open up to you, Remus; he's always been fond of you. But I'll have a talk with him in the meantime, and see what I can find out."

"Thank you, Minerva," Lupin said with a relieved smile.

*** 

Lukas had just finished calling roll for his seventh-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class when Snape appeared in the doorway. "Is something wrong, Severus?" Lukas asked in concern.

Snape shook his head and leaned against the wall. "No, I just happened to have a free period after lunch, and I thought I'd come by and observe these very important lessons you are teaching."

Draco snickered a little at the subtle tone of sarcasm in the Potions Master's voice, and Lukas glared at Snape. "Don't you have anything better to do?" he asked irritably.

"No, not really," Snape replied cheerfully.

Lukas was tempted to kick him out, but if Snape refused to go, his authority with his students would be undermined. He could try to physically throw the Potions Master out of the room, but the sight of him brawling with another teacher probably wouldn't do his authority much good, either. Besides, Snape was said to be a master of the Dark Arts, and attacking a Dark Wizard was not something one did lightly. So Lukas shrugged, feigning indifference, and tried to ignore his unwanted guest.

"Pair off, and we'll go over some of the things you covered with Master Karasu last term," Lukas ordered. "I need to get an idea of what your abilities are."

"Physical Defense is a waste of time," Aric Dietrich sneered. "Muggles may need to know that sort of thing, but I don't need anything to defend myself but a wand."

"Oh, really?" Lukas asked in an icy voice.

"Uh oh," Goyle said.

The other Slytherins began grinning and whispering to each other, except for Draco, who flushed a little. Lukas had already heard the story of how Karasu had easily disarmed the Slytherin boy on the very first day of class and proved to him that physical strength could sometimes be more effective than magic. Clearly, Dietrich had not, though, and Lukas looked forward to venting a little of his frustration on the boy. He grinned, exposing his fangs, and gave Aric his most feral, predatory smile--Lukas never hesitated to make use of any weapon at his disposal, including intimidation. The boy paled a little but did not back down.

"Really," Aric answered.

"Do you think you can take me, boy?" Lukas said. "Would you like to make a little wager? I'll pit my fighting skills against your magic; if you win, I'll excuse you from my class. But if I win, you shut up and do as you're told."

"Any restrictions on what kinds of spells I can use?" Aric asked.

"Use anything you like," Lukas said airily; it didn't matter, as he didn't intend to let the boy get any spells off. 

"Very well, then," Aric said, nodding. "But don't blame me if you get hurt."

Lukas was going to enjoy taking this one down. "Likewise," he said.

"Five Galleons says that Master Bleddri takes him down in ten seconds flat!" Crabbe said, but no one seemed eager to put their money on Aric.

Aric whipped out his wand and began shouting out a curse, but Lukas leapt forward with inhuman speed, and before the boy knew what had happened, he found himself face-down on the floor with Lukas's foot on his neck. His wand lay a few feet away, out of his reach, but Aric stretched his hand out towards it anyway, then stopped, as Lukas put a little more pressure on his neck.

"Do you agree that I have won the wager, Mr. Dietrich?" Lukas asked coolly.

The Slytherins were laughing and applauding, and Aric's face turned red with rage, but he spat out the word, "Yes!"

Lukas let the boy up, but he picked up Aric's wand, saying, "I'll hold onto this for now; you won't need it during my class, anyway." Quite frankly, he didn't trust the boy not to throw a hex at him when his back was turned. Snape gave him a small, approving smile. The Slytherins were still jeering at Aric, and Lukas snapped, "Conduct your petty rivalries and quarrels on your own time! You are here for one thing, and that is to learn to defend yourselves! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," they chorused, looking chastened.

"Very well; get to work!" He put them through their drills; they all seemed to be fairly competent, except for Dietrich, who'd had no prior experience, and a Slytherin girl named Daphne Greengrass who, according to her record, had been out ill for the better part of the previous school year and had missed all of the Physical Defense lessons. He began working with them on some basic blocking maneuvers, and to his surprise, Aric picked up on them quickly, although he glared at Lukas hatefully the entire time. He was also in better physical shape than Lukas might have expected from a pampered pureblood. 

Daphne, a quiet girl with strawberry-blonde hair, however, was skittish of him and cringed away from his touch. She wouldn't defend properly, and he ended up knocking her over even though he was pulling his blows a good deal more than he had with Aric--he'd just barely tapped the girl, for Merlin's sake! But he didn't want to be accused of beating up a helpless girl by some overzealous parents, so he paired her off with Pansy Parkinson and told her to go over the basics with Daphne.

"Of course, Master Bleddri, I'd be glad to," Pansy said with a smile, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

Lukas groaned inwardly at having another unexpected problem dropped in his lap; it had never occurred to him that any teenage girl would flirt with a disreputable werewolf! It was necessary for him to have some physical contact with his students, but he didn't want to open himself up to accusations of impropriety with the girls. He ground his teeth together, silently cursing Lupin for convincing him to take the job. 

At least Daphne was doing better with Pansy, although she was still a little timid and hesitant; she was probably just afraid of him because he was a werewolf. Which was not all that surprising, really--he was only surprised that more of the students didn't fear him. They'd probably been hanging around Lupin too long, which might have given them the impression that all werewolves were as harmless as he was. He supposed he should be glad that his students didn't think he was a monster, but Lukas found himself feeling more annoyed.

After running through some hand-to-hand moves, Lukas allowed the more experienced members of the class to demonstrate their weapons skills; Draco and Harry were actually quite good with the practice swords, and they seemed to relish fighting against each other--working off a little of their rivalry, no doubt. Lupin had told him that they had once been enemies, and were now uneasy allies. Well, if it inspired them to work harder, that was all well and good, so long as it didn't get out of hand.

"Can I try that?" Aric suddenly asked, with a hint of suppressed eagerness. 

Lukas turned to look at him; he looked like a normal child without the ever-present hostility and sneer. He didn't want to discourage that, but... "I would prefer that you get a little more experience in hand-to-hand combat before moving up to working with weapons, Mr. Dietrich," Lukas said.

"But I do have experience with weapons," Aric protested, and Lukas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I've taken fencing lessons."

"Oh really?" Lukas drawled. "I thought you said that a wizard needed nothing but a wand to defend himself."

Aric flushed. "It wasn't for defense," he said. "It was for fun. My uncle liked to fence; it was one of his hobbies. He showed me a few things when I was a kid, and I took lessons when I got older. I don't have much time to practice when school is in session, but I practice a lot during the summers."

From the corner of his eye, Lukas saw Snape glance over at Theodore, whose face was filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow and resentment. Lukas wasn't quite sure what was going on, then he suddenly remembered reading something in the Daily Prophet about Thaddeus Nott being implicated in the murder of his long-missing brother-in-law Rafe Dietrich. This Rafe must be the uncle that Aric was referring to. Well, that complicated things somewhat, but Lukas supposed that was more Snape's problem than his. At times he was bitter about being cheated of his rightful inheritance, but mostly he was glad not to be involved in that world of pureblood politics and rivalries and feuds.

"Very well," Lukas said. "Let's see how good you are, Mr. Dietrich." He took a wooden sword down from the rack of weapons on the wall, and motioned for Aric to choose his own weapon. The boy took his time testing the heft and grip of a few swords, then chose one of the thinnest and lightest of the wooden blades--probably the closest match he could find to the rapier he must be used to wielding. Aric bowed to him, somewhat mockingly, and raised his weapon in salute, and the bout began.

The boy wasn't bad, Lukas had to admit. Lukas hadn't wielded a sword in years and was a bit rusty, although he had learned knife-fighting during his years of living on the streets, which wasn't quite the same thing. However, he did have his werewolf strength and reflexes, and he had the benefit of having fought for his life on numerous occasions--though not necessarily with a sword--while the boy had only engaged in ritualized formal combat where his opponents followed set rules and no one was likely to get hurt. In Lukas's world, there were no rules: you did whatever you had to in order to survive, and you didn't worry about the niceties. Lukas finally disarmed Aric by grabbing the wrist of his free hand and pulling him off balance to distract him--a definite no-no in formal fencing, and something the boy clearly hadn't been expecting, by the look in his eyes.

"There are no rules here, Mr. Dietrich," Lukas laughed. "It is my job to teach you to defend yourselves, by any means necessary--including dirty tricks. But you did very well; you actually made me work up a sweat!" He made a show of wiping his brow, and Aric almost smiled for a moment, before fixing that holier-than-thou pureblood look back on his face. "Five points to Slytherin." That caused the look to disappear from his face again as he stared at Lukas in shock. "And since you have proven your competence, you may join the other students who have taken up sword-fighting; I'm sure Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy will appreciate having a worthy opponent." Potter and Malfoy looked as though they disagreed with that, but too bad for them. "But you will still have to take lessons in hand-to-hand combat as well."

Aric nodded. "Very well..." After a moment's hesitation, he added, "...sir." It was rather grudging, but he said it without his usual sneer or sarcasm.

"You all did well today," Lukas told his class. "So I'll dismiss you a little early so that you can get cleaned up before your next class."

*** 

Snape had some free time between classes, which he should have spent preparing lesson plans or grading assignments. But he went to observe Bleddri's class instead, because he wanted to see how the werewolf would handle the students, and because he was still curious about Bleddri's background. Snape supposed that he should just let the matter drop, since he would have preferred not to be associated with his own family himself, but he was almost certain that Lukas Bleddri had been born into a pureblood family of high standing, and he couldn't help wondering which family that might be.

Snape smirked as Bleddri took down Aric Dietrich, who had made the mistake of mouthing off to him. The boy had it coming to him, and besides, it was probably good for the rest of the class to realize that this werewolf was a little more dangerous than Lupin; he doubted that Bleddri was going to tolerate the kind of insolence and insults that Lupin had patiently put up with.

But Snape was shocked when Aric asked if he could join in on the swordplay and revealed that he had taken fencing lessons. Snape watched with great interest as Bleddri took down a sword from the wall and personally engaged the boy in combat. The werewolf clearly knew what he was doing, and that clinched it in Snape's mind--Bleddri was definitely from a pureblood family. A street rat like Bleddri claimed to be was unlikely to know how to use a sword; fencing was a wealthy man's sport. Only the idle rich could afford to waste their time on it, much less the money for equipment and lessons. 

Even so, it was a sport that few of the wizarding families--wealthy or not--practiced these days, since most wizards shared Aric's belief that magic was superior to any sort of physical attack. Still, some wizards had wielded swords as well as wands in ancient times--Godric Gryffindor had been one of them, fortunately for Potter, since Gryffindor's sword had enabled him to defeat the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. A very few of the old wizarding families kept up the tradition of learning sword-fighting, the De Lacys and the Gravenors among them; both families were said to have descended from mercenary clans, and their ancestors had plied their skill with the sword as well as sorcery. 

The Dietrich family did not share the same tradition, as far as Snape knew, but Rafe Dietrich had always been eccentric, so it didn't surprise Snape that he had taken up fencing for fun; perhaps he had even been inspired by tales of Godric Gryffindor's adventures, such as the one that claimed Godric had single-handedly slain a dragon with his sword. Such tales were no doubt exaggerated at best, but were the sort of thing a Gryffindor would eat up.

Aric seemed marginally less hostile by the time the lesson was over, and Snape lifted a hand to his mouth to hide a smile. It seemed that werewolves had a way with hostile Slytherin children, but he had expected gentle Remus to be the one to win over Aric, if such a thing were even possible, not the irritable Bleddri, who looked like a feral wolf even in his human form.

After the students left, Lukas came over to Snape looking worried and a little annoyed, and said, "I have a problem."

"With Dietrich?" Snape asked. "I thought you handled him very well."

"No, not him," Lukas said impatiently, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I know how to handle young cubs who are testing their strength and challenging the pack leader's authority." 

Snape snorted with amusement. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to hear you describe him as a cub."

Lukas grinned, baring his teeth. "I'm not worried about him; I've already shown him who's top dog--or wolf, if you will. No, I'm worried about the girls."

"What about them? They seemed to be doing well enough, except for Greengrass, but this is her first lesson, after all..."

"That's not what I meant," Lukas said, flushing a little. "It's inevitable that I'll need to have some physical contact with the students while sparring with them, or to correct a stance or movement. But that Parkinson girl seemed to be flirting with me, and it occurred to me that I could be opening myself up to charges of improper behavior if one of the girls or their parents decided to lay a false accusation against me." He thought for a moment. "Hmm...do you think Dumbledore would let me hire a female assistant?"

"Probably," Snape said with a grin. "But the boys could just as easily make the same accusations, you know."

Snape laughed and Lukas uttered several blistering curse words--Snape noted that the werewolf could swear in French as well as what was probably Welsh. "Damn it, Snape, it's not funny!"

The fact that Bleddri had not considered the possibility of the boys laying accusations against him was probably a pretty strong indication that he was solely interested in women, which meant that he had no designs on Lupin. Not that he had any doubts about Remus's love or fidelity, but it still cheered Snape up. Besides, the last thing he needed was a lovesick, jealous werewolf regarding him as a rival. "Calm down, Bleddri," Snape said. "Karasu never had any problems."

"Karasu wasn't a werewolf and a social outcast!" Lukas snarled. "Even if some of the purebloods might have looked down on him for being a non-human, he was answerable only to his own government. I don't have the luxury of running off to Japan if things get rough."

"That's true," Snape admitted, "but I still don't think you need to worry. The Slytherins are the only ones who might be tempted to pull a stunt like that, and they're doubled up with the Gryffindors in your classes. The Gryffindors are too insufferably noble and honorable to give false testimony, so you'll have a number of witnesses who will swear to your innocence. Besides, just about every Slytherin except for Aric adores Lupin, so I doubt that they would do anything to harm you, if only for his sake; if one werewolf is accused of a crime, it reflects badly on all werewolves."

Lukas relaxed a little. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Still, maybe I'll bring in Kyra to assist me for a few sessions. It might be do them some good to see a strong female, particularly the Slytherin girls."

Snape nodded; for the most part, the high-ranking Slytherin families' first priority for their daughters was for them to make advantageous marriages with boys of good families--education and careers were secondary to that. But only someone who had grown up in pureblood society was likely to know that.

"Well, thanks for the advice, Snape," Lukas said grudgingly. "But hadn't you better get off to class yourself?"

Snape did have another Potions class coming up soon. "Yes, I suppose so," he said. "It's been...interesting, Bleddri."

"I'm sure it has," Lukas said dryly, then grinned in that sharp-toothed smile again. "I'd be happy to give you a lesson if you like, Snape."

"No doubt you would," Snape said, just as dryly. "But I know my limits, Bleddri. I'll stick to my wand if it's all the same to you."

*** 

Snape's last class of the day was his first-year Hufflepuff-Slytherin class. The class started off well enough; they were quiet and obedient and clearly intimidated by him--no doubt their older siblings or housemates had regaled them with stories about the sinister Potions Master. Good. He gave them a menacing smile and watched them quiver with fear, just for the sheer pleasure of it. No, the werewolf had not completely ruined his reputation, Snape thought smugly.

Snape watched Slaine Kendrick carefully, but as Draco had reported, the other Slytherins were being very friendly to her. She was sitting next to Miriam Baddock, who was chattering about how her brother was going to try out for the Quidditch team this year.

Slaine said politely, "I hope he makes it. Wish him good luck for me."

"Why don't you come watch the tryouts with me on Friday, and we'll cheer him on together?" Miriam suggested.

Slaine smiled shyly and said, "Thank you, I'd like that."

Well, it seemed like Miss Kendrick's position in Slytherin House was secure. Snape could report to Branwen that her young cousin was being treated well and had even made a new friend, which would hopefully get his former Professor off his back. Snape was about to move on to observe some other students when suddenly Slaine's eyes widened and she cried out in alarm, "Oh no, don't do that!"

She ran over to the desk next to her and knocked the porcupine quills out of Tristan Ames-Diggory's hand. "Hey!" the boy shouted indignantly. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm sorry," Slaine said apologetically. "But if you add the quills before you take the cauldron off the fire--"

"Your cauldron will melt," Snape finished. "Didn't you read the instructions, Mr. Ames-Diggory?"

"I don't need help from a Slytherin!" Tristan snapped, glaring at Slaine, who looked startled and a little hurt. Her Slytherin classmates began gathering around her, giving the Hufflepuff boy hostile looks.

Meanwhile, Tristan's housemates gave him puzzled looks, and one boy glanced nervously at Snape and said, "Take it easy, Tristan!"

"Perhaps you do not need help from a Slytherin," Snape said coldly, "but the class needs help in being protected from your incompetence, Ames-Diggory. If the cauldron had melted, you would have been burned by the hot potion--which doesn't really concern me much, but it could also have hurt the people unfortunate enough to be standing next to you. And by the way, in case you have forgotten, I am a Slytherin, and it isn't wise to insult your teachers, even indirectly. Five points off Hufflepuff for your rudeness to Miss Kendrick, and another five points for your rudeness to myself. In addition, you will serve an hour's detention; report to my office after classes tomorrow." The boy remained silent, and Snape snapped, "Do I make myself clear, Mr. Ames-Diggory?" 

"Perfectly," Tristan said sullenly.

"You will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times, young man!"

"Yes, sir," Tristan said, just as sullenly, and actually had the boldness to look up and glare at Snape. 

"And another point for your cheek," Snape said. As Tristan opened his mouth to protest, Snape added, "Would you care to round it up to fifteen?"

"Enough!" the other Hufflepuff boy hissed, and dragged Tristan away, whispering urgently into his ear. Tristan scowled, but subsided and returned to working on his potion. The Slytherins smirked, except for Slaine, who cast an apprehensive glance at the Hufflepuffs and then at Snape.

Snape shook his head slightly as he returned to his desk. A bold Hufflepuff; who could ever have imagined it? For the most part, they were quiet, hardworking, and meek. Tristan's cousin Cedric had certainly never given Snape any trouble in class. He sighed, hoping that the boy wasn't going to be troublesome all year; one Potter was more than enough.

*** 

"Snape sure put that Hufflepuff in his place!" Miriam gloated as they left the Potions classroom.

"I think it may have done more harm than good," Slaine said dubiously. "It will only make him angrier. Now he'll blame me for getting him in trouble."

"Oh, who cares what some stupid Hufflepuff thinks?" Patrick Parkinson scoffed. 

"Besides," Miriam pointed out, "you were only trying to help him, and look at the thanks you got!"

"If he gives you a hard time, let me know, and my sister and her friends will put him in his place," Patrick bragged.

Miriam smiled slyly. "She doesn't need your help! All she has to do is tell Professor Blackmore--she's your cousin, right? She almost killed Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley for hexing her familiar last year! I'm sure she'll turn Tristan into a toad or something if he's mean to you!"

Slaine shook her head. "I don't want to do that, go running to Professor Blackmore for help, or Professor Snape, for that matter. People will think I'm a crybaby, that I can't handle things on my own."

"You have to learn to think like a Slytherin," Patrick said with a grin. "Slytherins make use of whatever resources they have--that includes powerful allies. That's what my mum always says!"

"I like to study, so I thought I'd be in Ravenclaw," Slaine admitted. "I was a little scared when the Hat said I should go into Slytherin. People say things..."

"Yeah, that we're Dark Wizards and Death Eaters, I know," Patrick said, he and Miriam both looking a little hurt.

"But everyone's been really nice to me," Slaine continued. "Especially you two." The other two children cheered up and smiled at her. "It's kind of confusing," Slaine said, frowning. "My great-grandparents say that Professor Blackmore's father was a Slytherin and a Dark Wizard, and it's his fault that he and his wife, my grandaunt, got killed. But my grandmother says that Meredith Blackmore was a kind man who loved music and loved his family. Professor Blackmore seems a little scary, but she was nice to me when I met her at the wedding."

Patrick nodded. "Yes, my sister says Professor Blackmore is no one to cross, but she really liked taking her class. She says the Professor always treated us Slytherins fairly, and she never favored any of the Houses, including her own--she was a Ravenclaw, you know."

"So why did the Hat say you should go into Slytherin if you wanted to be a Ravenclaw?" Miriam asked curiously.

Slaine shrugged. "It said that my mind was suited to the subtleties and intricacies of Slytherin House. And that I was more ambitious than I cared to admit." She smiled sheepishly. "I would like to be a powerful wizard someday. Not Minister of Magic or anything like that, but...someone like Professor Blackmore, who knows so much about magic...all kinds of magic." 

Everyone knew--or at least, everyone claimed to know--that the Slytherins learned more about the Dark Arts than was officially taught at Hogwarts, which was why Slaine had found the Hat's declaration that she should go into Slytherin both frightening and a little alluring. The Hat had insisted that it knew best which House would allow her to reach her full potential, and it had gently reminded her that not all the wizards who came out of Slytherin were evil, that in fact, a number of them had fought heroically in the war. So she had reluctantly acceded to the Hat's recommendation, and entered Slytherin House.

"I wish we could learn Summoning," Miriam sighed. "That would be so much fun, don't you think? To be able to summon an air elemental to carry secret messages, or maybe a fire elemental to burn the seat of that snotty Hufflepuff boy's pants! It's so unfair that we have to wait till third-year before we can take Incantations and Summonings; do you think you could convince your cousin to make an exception for us?"

Slaine shook her head vigorously, turning a little pale. "No, I don't think she'd give me special treatment just because I'm a relative. And she'd probably be really upset if she thought we wanted to use those spells for pranks."

"Remember what almost happened to Malfoy, Potter, and Weasley," Patrick warned Miriam.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "Oh well."

*** 

Tristan was fuming as he left the dungeon, although his friend Alan Taylor was saying, "You don't want to mess with Snape; I hear he can be very nasty. But it's probably nothing personal; he's mean to everyone but the Slytherins, or at least that's what I've heard..."

Tristan wasn't paying any attention to what the other boy was saying, but if he had, he would have disagreed about it not being personal. Snape was a Slytherin and a Death Eater, and as far as Tristan was concerned, at least partly responsible for Cedric's death. Oh sure, Snape had claimed that he had been a spy all along, but he had probably just been trying to save his skin when he saw that his side was losing. The Death Eaters had done it before and gotten away with it at the end of the first war, after all. 

That was why Tristan had been furious when the Sorting Hat had tried to tell him that he should be a Slytherin. He would never go into that House, the House that had killed his beloved cousin. He didn't care what the Hat said about heroes as well as villains emerging from Slytherin House, he didn't care what the Hat said about him having a cunning mind--which was just another way of saying "sneaky". He had refused to go into any House but Hufflepuff, and swore that he would rather leave Hogwarts than be Sorted into another House. The Hat had finally given in, with a rather grumpy sigh, and put him into Hufflepuff.

One of his housemates, a girl named Rosemary, said, "You know, it's partly your own fault. You didn't have to yell at Slaine like that; she was only trying to help."

"You can't trust a Slytherin!" Tristan snapped. Even if that girl Slaine was too young to actually be a Death Eater, everyone knew that Slytherins all turned out bad. That was what his parents said; that was what Uncle Amos said. Someday he would find a way to make all of them pay for what they had done to Cedric...

*** 

Morrigan arrived in the Potions Master's office not long after Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore had gathered together there. She handed Snape the adoption papers, and he looked them over carefully, nodded approvingly, then signed them. Lupin and Theodore added their signatures, and Morrigan took the papers back and smiled.

"Congratulations, Theodore," Morrigan said. "You're now a Snape."

Theodore beamed with happiness and Lupin asked, "Is that all there is to it? No court hearings, no need for the Ministry's stamp of approval?"

Morrigan shook her head. "One does not need the Ministry's approval to designate an heir--or disown one, for that matter. The Nott family could take Severus to court if they wished to challenge the adoption, but I don't think that's very likely, since Theodore is willing to cede the Nott inheritance to them." She frowned a little and turned to Theodore. "Are you sure you want to do that? It might be possible to consolidate the two family holdings, if you used a hyphenated name--Nott-Snape--and perhaps cemented an alliance by marrying a female Nott cousin..."

"NO!" Theodore, Snape, and Lupin all shouted at once.

Morrigan looked a little taken aback. "I didn't mean right this instant," she clarified. "Theodore is still in school, after all, but perhaps a betrothal could--"

"No arranged marriages," Lupin said firmly.

"Theodore may marry...or not, as he pleases, when he pleases," Snape said.

Theodore shuddered. "I'd sooner become a pauper than marry one of my cousins! No, they can have the Nott estate; I never wanted it, anyway."

Morrigan shrugged, and handed Theodore another sheet of paper. "Very well, then. Please sign this document stating that you surrender any claim you might have on the Nott estate. We can turn it over to your relatives if they should decide to contest the adoption."

As Theodore picked up a quill, Dylan asked curiously, "Is he supposed to sign as Theodore Nott or Theodore Snape?"

Theodore froze, the quill hovering above the paper, as it finally sank in that he was really the Professor's son now, a Snape and no longer a Nott.

Morrigan smiled, seeming to understand how he felt. "You should sign it as Theodore Nott, since this is your last act as the Nott heir. But henceforth you should sign your name as Theodore Snape."

Theodore signed the paper with a flourish, severing his last link with his biological family, and handed the paper back to Morrigan, feeling as if he had suddenly been freed after a long imprisonment. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. "What am I supposed to call you now, sir?" Theodore asked Snape shyly. "Do I still call you 'Professor,' or should I..." His voice trailed off.

Snape hesitated, staring at the boy's anxious face, and tried to figure out whether Theodore was asking for permission to call him "Father" or for permission NOT to have to call him "Father". This had all happened so suddenly that Snape had not yet stopped to consider the issue. It would be strange to be called "Father," but he didn't really mind if it made the boy happy. On the other hand, he didn't want to pressure the boy into doing something that he wasn't comfortable with. Lupin suddenly kicked him in the shin and gave him a stern look, and Snape relaxed. Ah, that probably meant the former, then. The werewolf's sentimentality could be embarrassing at times, but it did have its useful moments; he was very good at discerning what the boys were thinking and feeling, without any need for Legilimency.

"You may call me whatever you feel comfortable with, Theodore," Snape finally told his son, then realized that Theodore might not feel comfortable calling him "Father" even if he wanted to. He paused to think, then smiled a little as he came up with a solution. "Although you should still address me as 'Professor' in class, of course. And I think you should address me as 'Father' when we are at Snape Manor. Lady Selima is a stickler for propriety, and she probably wouldn't consider it proper for you to address me as 'Professor'." If it were a requirement rather than a choice, Theodore would probably feel a little less nervous about it, and it would give him time to become accustomed to addressing Snape as "Father"--give them both time to become accustomed to it.

Snape had guessed correctly, it seemed. Theodore relaxed and said meekly, "Yes, sir."

Lupin grinned, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Of course we wouldn't want to do anything to offend Lady Selima," he said innocently.

Theodore smiled. "Of course not."

Morrigan looked amused for a moment, then quickly schooled her face into an expression of professional detachment as Snape looked her way. "Speaking of Lady Selima, Severus...we have to go to Snape Manor to have your father sign the papers reinstating you as his heir."

"I don't suppose you could just owl it to them?" Snape asked without much hope.

"Lord Snape wishes to see your new heir in person before he signs the papers," Morrigan said apologetically.

"Very well," Snape sighed; it was no more than he had expected. "It seems we will be making another trip to Snape Manor, then."

They took the Floo to Snape Manor; Selima and Vorcher were waiting for them in the drawing room. "Do you have the adoption papers?" Selima immediately asked.

After a quick glance at Snape for his approval, Morrigan handed Selima the papers. "Please have a seat," Selima said in a cool but polite voice. Vorcher served them tea and cookies while they waited for Selima to finish reading the papers. The house-elf was very nervous when he waited on Snape, but the Potions Master just scowled and accepted a cup of tea without comment. Vorcher looked relieved, but quickly finished serving the others and retreated back to Selima's side as soon as he was done.

Snape watched his mother's face fill with outrage as she reached a certain clause in the document. He had been hoping that she would give the papers only a cursory scan and overlook it, but he had known it would be highly unlikely for her to be so careless. She did come from a family of merchants, after all, and no merchant worth his salt would ever bind himself--or herself--to an agreement without going over the contract with a fine-tooth comb first. 

In fact, Lady Snape possessed a fine sense of business acumen, and had advised her husband on financial matters--discreetly and behind the scenes, of course, so that his authority would not be diminished in the eyes of his peers. Publicly, all decisions regarding the Snape holdings were made by Lord Snape, but privately, his wife had handled most of their finances and business dealings, at least while Snape had still been living at home, and it was likely that Selima was single-handedly running the Snape estate now that her husband was incapacitated.

"This states that the werewolf is still the boy's foster parent!" Selima shouted, jabbing a finger at the offending clause with such ferocity that she nearly tore a hole in the paper. 

"That is correct," Snape said calmly.

"He doesn't need a foster parent now that you're his father!"

"Yes, he does," Snape said; his eyes were cold and hard, and his lips formed a small, humorless smile. "You can't possibly think that I would entrust a child to your care or Father's if anything should happen to me."

"It's outrageous that a werewolf should be parent to a Snape heir!" Selima shouted furiously.

"If you don't like it, you can always let the Snape line die out," Snape said, leaning back against the couch casually as if it didn't matter to him one way or the other. Selima's face turned red with rage, and she opened her mouth to protest further, but Snape cut her off. "I am not bluffing, Mother," he said in a steely voice. "This point is nonnegotiable. Lupin remains Theodore's co-guardian or the deal is off."

Vorcher regarded his Mistress with concern and alarm; she looked as though she were about to have a stroke--or cast an Unforgivable Curse at her son. But Selima took a deep breath and got herself under control, then snapped, "Fine! Just don't tell your father about it, or he'll never reinstate you." She turned to Morrigan, who had fixed a carefully bland and polite expression on her face. "Do you have the other papers ready?"

"Yes, Lady Selima," Morrigan replied, and handed Selima the papers that would reinstate Severus as the Snape heir. Selima read them over carefully, then nodded. "Everything seems to be in order. Very well, let us go and present your heir to your father, Severus." She looked annoyed when Lupin and Dylan rose to their feet along with the others, but said nothing, and they all headed upstairs.

Selima, Vorcher, Snape, Theodore, and Morrigan entered the bedroom, while Lupin and Dylan waited outside.

Vorcher and Selima helped Severin to sit up in bed, and he croaked, "Come here and let me take a look at you, boy," in a raspy voice, feebly gesturing for Theodore to come closer. Theodore glanced at Snape, who nodded, and nervously stepped forward.

"Hmm," Severin said, looking Theodore over carefully. "He does look a bit like you, Severus. Are you sure he's not some by-blow of yours?"

Snape was about to say that he wouldn't have touched Marta with a ten-foot pole, then realized that he probably shouldn't phrase it quite that way in front of Marta's son, even if he did claim that he hated her. So he just said in a dry voice, "Marta wasn't my type, Father."

"And I suppose he is?" Severin sneered, pointing at Lupin, who was peering through the bedroom door. The werewolf smiled sheepishly at being caught eavesdropping. 

"Yes, he is," Snape said calmly.

"You are a disgrace to this family!" Severin spat. 

"We must ensure that the Snape line does not die out," Selima said in a soft, urgent voice. "I have checked the boy's ancestry; he is descended from the Snape line, and his blood is old and pure."

Severin scowled and looked Theodore over again. "Will you be a worthy heir and uphold the honor of the Snape family, boy?"

Theodore gave Severin a cold look and said, "I will strive to be a worthy son to my father, sir," strongly stressing the words "my father".

Severin laughed harshly. "He shows more loyalty to you than you did to me, Severus."

"With good reason," Snape snarled.

"Loyalty can be misplaced, child," Severin said to Theodore. "Remember that. Only fools trust blindly." 

"I trust the Prof...I trust my father," Theodore said adamantly.

"Well, he has the Snape stubbornness, at least," Severin said to Selima with an ironic smile.

"Indeed," Selima said dryly.

"Give the damn papers here, then," Severin growled. Morrigan handed him the papers, and Selima dipped a quill in ink and handed it to her husband. Severin scrawled his name on the line Selima pointed at, his hand trembling with the effort. That small task seemed to exhaust him, and his hand fell to his side as he broke out in a coughing fit. Selima gently dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief, and Snape noticed that it came away flecked with blood.

"Vorcher," Selima said, but the house-elf was already at her side, handing her a bottle and a spoon. She poured out a spoonful of a dark, viscous liquid and fed it to her husband, who stopped coughing and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes.

Morrigan retrieved the papers and said quietly, "I will file a copy with the Ministry and return the originals to you, Lady Selima. The same goes for the adoption papers, Severus." 

Selima nodded, and Snape said, "Thank you, Morrigan." 

"Good day, then," Morrigan said. "I'll see myself out." She left the room, and a few moments later they heard the cracking sound of someone Disapparating.

Severin seemed to be asleep, although his breathing still sounded labored, and Selima motioned for Snape and Vorcher to follow her out of the room.

"He seems to be in a great deal of pain," Lupin said in a concerned voice. "Isn't there anything the Healers can do to make him more comfortable, even if they cannot cure him?"

Apparently Selima was too weary to take offense and tell the werewolf to mind his own business; she did look very tired and drained. "They have prescribed something for the pain, but Severin doesn't like to take it," Selima replied. "It makes him drowsy and he says it muddles his thoughts. He prefers to endure the pain and keep his mind clear." She sighed. "Stubborn, as all the Snape men are."

Snape frowned. "What exactly are the Healers giving him?" Selima listed the potions they had prescribed, and Snape said, "I think I can brew something that will relieve the pain without making him feel drugged."

"Why haven't the Healers already prescribed this?" Selima asked, looking annoyed. "We've certainly paid them enough!"

"It takes a Master-class potion brewer to make it," Snape said with neither pride nor false humility. "It contains a small amount of poppy juice, which makes it highly addictive, but, well..."

"Your father will not live long enough for that to become a problem," Selima said flatly.

Snape nodded. "Two of the other ingredients are hemlock and hellebore, which are poisonous in the wrong dosage, so not many Healers will take the risk of making or prescribing it, for fear of killing the patient by accident--or of being sued by the patient's family."

Selima gave him a suspicious look. "If you're taking advantage of this opportunity to--"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Mother!" Snape snapped. "Why would I bother to poison Father? For the inheritance? He'll be dead in a few months, anyway. For revenge? If that were the case, I'd have done it long ago, when I first joined the Death Eaters."

Selima relaxed and said, "I suppose you're right, Severus. I would appreciate it if you would brew the potion for your father."

It was not quite an apology, but Snape knew that it was as close to one as he was likely to get. "Very well, Mother. I'll begin brewing the first batch tonight, and I'll owl it to you when it's done."

"Thank you," Selima said, in an only slightly grudging tone of voice.

Lupin smiled at Snape tenderly, and Snape scowled. "I would do the same for any of Hagrid's beasts if they were in pain, so you needn't chalk it up to any feelings of filial affection."

"You could have just said, 'you're welcome,' Severus," Lupin gently chided.

"What for?" Snape snapped. "It's not like anyone expects me to be polite, least of all my parents." 

Selima just the slightest bit; a very dry and ironic smile, but a smile nevertheless. "Quite right," she said. 

"Well, we'd better get back to school," Snape said, turning away. "I need to get started on the potion, and I don't want the boys to be late for dinner."

"Would...would you like to stay for dinner tonight?" Selima asked, in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice.

Snape was too surprised to reply immediately, which gave Lupin the chance to say warmly, "Why, thank you, we'd love to!"

The boys gave Lupin dubious looks, and Snape outright glared at him. "We'd love to," he said sarcastically, "but the potion--"

"Can wait till after dinner, can't it?" Lupin finished.

"Your father has survived this long without it," Selima said. "It won't hurt to put it off for a few more hours."

"But...but..." Snape stammered, frantically trying to come up with an excuse not to stay. "It's a school night. The boys--"

"Need to eat, regardless, and I don't see that it makes that much difference whether they eat here or at Hogwarts," Selima said.

"The students aren't allowed to leave the school grounds without permission," Snape protested lamely.

"They're already here," Selima pointed out dryly. "I assume they had your permission as Head of House to leave the school. If anyone complains, you can write them an excuse note."

"We should let the Headmaster know that we'll be late, though," Lupin said cheerfully.

"I'll have Socrates take a note to the school," Selima said.

"Socrates?" Lupin asked.

"Our owl," Selima replied. They all followed her to the library, where the large owl was sleeping on top one of the bookcases. It awoke when its mistress called its name, and soared down to land on one of the tables, where it waited patiently while Selima wrote a brief note in her precise, elegant handwriting.

Meanwhile, Lupin gently stroked the bird, crooning, "Aren't you a fine, handsome fellow?" Selima shot him an annoyed look, but the bird made contented hooting noises.

Selima handed the letter to the owl, saying, "Deliver this to the Headmaster at Hogwarts School," and Socrates grasped the envelope in his claws and flew off. "Four more for dinner, Vorcher," Selima ordered.

"Yes, Mistress, Vorcher will see to it at once!" the house-elf replied, and ran off, presumably to the kitchen.

"Dinner should be ready in about an hour," Selima said. "Perhaps you could show Theodore and your...friends...around the house in the meantime." She said the word "friends" with just a hint of distaste in her voice. "I have some business I need to attend to. Ring for Vorcher if you need anything." Then she swept out of the room without waiting for a reply.

"Ring?" Lupin asked.

Snape pointed at a small, silver bell sitting on a table near the door. "One of these bells can be found in nearly every room in the house. They're enchanted so that the Snape house-elf--in this case, Vorcher--can hear them no matter where he is."

"Clever," Lupin said, picking up the bell to examine it, although he was careful not to let it ring. "Although Hermione would have a fit."

"That's because she's a sentimental Gryffindor with more good intentions than common sense," Snape said tartly. "Vorcher would have a fit if Miss Granger tried to free him."

"That is true," Lupin acknowledged, "although I do agree with Hermione that no house-elf should be forced to serve against its will--Dobby did wish to be freed, after all. And I do not think that even the masters of the house-elves who serve willingly should be allowed to mistreat them."

Snape shrugged. "My parents have never mistreated Vorcher the way Lucius mistreated Dobby." Lupin raised an eyebrow, and Snape smiled, somewhat bitterly. "Not out of sentiment, of course, but the Snapes take good care of their possessions, and to them, Vorcher is a valuable piece of property. Like these books, for instance." He motioned at the shelves in the library. "The temperature in the room is magically set to remain constant: cool and dry at all times to prevent the books from slowly rotting and degrading over the years. The older and more fragile books are treated with preservation spells to keep the pages from crumbling or tearing. And to be quite frank, a house-elf is more valuable than almost any spell book, no matter how rare. Only the most powerful of the wizarding families have house-elf servants, and once the contract between an elf and the family it serves is broken, it is impossible to get a replacement--as the Malfoys have discovered."

"I see," Lupin murmured. "I guess I should be glad that Vorcher is not being mistreated, but it seems rather cold to regard as him as no more or less important than a valuable book."

"My parents are not exactly the warm and cuddly type, in case you haven't noticed," Snape said sarcastically. "Which is why I was not eager to stay for dinner."

"But she did ask us to stay," Lupin said quietly, "and I get the impression that your mother does not ask for anything very often."

"No, she prefers to command," Snape said sourly.

"Then let's meet her gesture halfway," Lupin said. "It must be lonely, living in this huge mansion with no company but Vorcher and your father."

"Your sentiment is wasted on my mother, Lupin," Snape grumbled, but he stopped arguing.

They spent some time looking over the library, which was not as extensive as the one at Blackmore Manor, but still impressive. Dylan, observant as ever, noticed something odd. "There are no books on the Dark Arts," he said.

Snape grinned. "And with my family's reputation, you find that surprising, do doubt." He walked over to a rather ugly sconce set into one wall that was wrought in the shape of a gargoyle holding a candlestick in each hand. Snape reached up and tugged on the gargoyle's horns, and a section of the wall soundlessly swung open, revealing a hidden room. Inside were shelves filled with a number of books on the Dark Arts, most of them proscribed by the Ministry of Magic.

The boys eyed the shelves with looks of avid interest, and Lupin said sternly, "Perhaps you could show us the rest of the house, Severus."   
"As you wish, Lupin," Snape said, and the boys looked disappointed but followed their guardians out of the hidden room. While Snape was closing the secret door, Lupin looked down at the floor of the library and noticed a large Turkish rug that was woven in beautiful colors and intricate patterns. 

"What a beautiful rug," Lupin said, then gasped as the corners of the rug fluttered up off the floor and waved at him almost invitingly.

"Down!" snapped Snape, and the rug sank back to the floor in a manner that seemed somehow petulant.

"What on earth is that?" Lupin asked.

"My mother's cousin, Ali, deals in flying carpets," Snape said, "and he gave one to my parents as a wedding gift. Unfortunately, they're prohibited in England, so all it does is sit on the library floor; it gets a bit restless at times."

The boys knelt down on the floor, staring at the carpet in awe. "Wow," Dylan breathed, running his hand across the rug. "You own a real flying carpet--that's so cool!" The rug quivered appreciatively.

"Technically my parents own it, and please don't encourage it; I don't want to have to chase it all over the house," Snape said, but he looked amused.

Dylan gave the rug a regretful pat, rose to feet, and asked, "Why are flying carpets illegal, anyway?"

Snape shrugged. "You'll have to ask Arthur Weasley that. They're defined by the Ministry as Muggle Artifacts, which makes it illegal to enchant them, but I don't really understand why it's all right to enchant a broom but not a carpet. Brooms are used by Muggles as well, and it would upset a Muggle just as much to see a wizard flying through the air on a broom as it would to see one flying on a carpet. Uncle Ali claims it's a conspiracy on the part of the broomstick manufacturers, and I admit it's a possibility that they could have paid the Ministry off with a fat bribe."

Snape showed them around the house, including his own room, which he said had not changed since he had left home at age eighteen. There was no dust in the room, though, which meant that Vorcher must have been cleaning it. Lupin said nothing, but he thought that it seemed strangely sterile and spartan for the room of a teenage boy: there were no posters on the walls, no photographs of friends or family on the desk or dresser. The books on the shelves were mainly scholarly titles, except for a couple of books on Quidditch. Snape seemed disinclined to linger, and they quickly moved on. 

There were a number of extra bedrooms--guest rooms and rooms no longer in use, as the Snape family had shrank dramatically since the mansion had first been built hundreds of years ago. Snape also showed them his father's workroom, which clearly had not been used for a long time. He regarded the room with a small, sardonic smile on his face, perhaps remembering the time his father had punished him with a Cruciatus Curse for playing in the workroom without permission. They moved on to a large, empty room that could easily have held fifty people without feeling cramped.

"It looks like a ballroom," Lupin said.

Snape nodded, a sour look on his face. "Sometimes it functioned as one. This is the room my parents held parties and large gatherings in. But it hasn't been used in years, since my father began to lose his influence when Lucius Malfoy turned against him."

As they headed down a long corridor, Theodore looked around and said, "I haven't seen any family portraits, sir. Does your family not have any?"

"They are your family, too, now," Snape reminded him, "although I wouldn't blame you if you didn't wish to be associated with them. And yes, we do have family portraits, but they're all locked up in the attic. My father, as you may have noticed, has a bad temper--"

"It must run in the family," Lupin gently teased.

Snape smiled a little and continued, "--and he isn't inclined to follow anyone's advice but his own. After my father destroyed my Great-Great-Great Uncle Sylvester's portrait when it wouldn't shut up, my mother moved them all into the attic for safekeeping. They grumbled quite a bit until my mother told them that they could join Uncle Sylvester if they didn't like it. As far as I know, they're still up there gathering dust."

Lupin grinned. "Whatever else she might be, your mother is certainly a formidable woman, Severus. And you said that your father doesn't follow anyone's advice but his own, but it seems to me that he does follow Selima's advice. She did manage to persuade him to reinstate you as heir and accept Theodore, after all."

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "That is true. Father does respect her, in his own way. Mother handles all the Snape financial and business dealings; she does come from a merchant clan, after all, so it is her area of expertise, and Father saw no reason not to make use of her skills. But she does this all quietly behind the scenes, always deferring to my father in public, as a proper pureblood wife should."

Lupin sighed and shook his head. "Pureblood etiquette is so complicated."

Snape suddenly grinned. "I once overheard my mother telling Vanessa Malfoy--Lucius's mother--that it's easy enough to make your husband do what you want, you just have to convince him that it was his idea to begin with."

Lupin laughed. "I will have to remember that!"

Snape scowled and said, "I think my mother is a bad influence on you, Lupin."

The next room he led them to was glassed in on three sides, looking out onto a well-manicured lawn and flower beds. The sun was just beginning to set, spilling orange light through the glass walls.

Lupin exclaimed, "What a magnificent view!"

"Indeed it is," Snape said, but he was not looking out into the garden, but rather at his lover, who was standing in a pool of sunlight that cast a flame-colored glow over his hair and face. Snape thought he looked absolutely beautiful.

It took Lupin a few moments to realize that Snape was looking at him, not the view, but he smiled tenderly when he did, and came over and kissed Snape on the cheek.

"Oh, cut that out, Lupin," Snape said almost affectionately.

Lupin ignored him, resting his head on Snape's shoulder, and the boys grinned. "It's a lovely room, Severus." 

"It was built as a sunroom for the lady of the Snape house, many generations ago," Snape said. "My mother and her friends used to drink tea and gossip here."

Lupin kissed Snape again. "Do we have to worry about scandalizing the neighbors?" he asked. 

"They'll be scandalized soon enough," Snape said, unconcerned, "as soon as the news of my reinstatement as heir and my adoption of Theodore becomes public. Besides, the estate is located out in the country, and there aren't any neighbors close enough to be peering through the windows."

"Good," Lupin said, kissing him once more. 

They were still in the sunroom when Vorcher came to tell them that dinner was ready, all four of them sitting together in companionable silence on the couch. Lupin was snuggled up against Snape, his head resting on Snape's shoulder.

Vorcher's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw that. He gave the pair a disapproving look and said, "Dinner is ready, Master Severus," then ran off before Snape could punish him for his brief moment of boldness.

"I believe we have scandalized Vorcher, my dear," Lupin said with a grin. 

"Along with half of the wizarding world," Snape said, grinning back at him.

"Only half?" Lupin laughed. "I'm disappointed!"

"You're incorrigible, Lupin," Snape scolded, but he kept grinning. "Come on, let's go to dinner. The sooner it's over, the sooner we can get back to Hogwarts."

They sat at one end of a long table in the dining room, and even if Selima held at least one of her guests in contempt, she had still brought out the good china, crystal, and silverware. Lupin tapped the crystal goblet set before him with one finger, and a clear, pure, bell-like note rang out. 

Selima frowned disapprovingly and said, "Can't you teach your...friend...some table manners, Severus?"

"Mother," Snape said in a tone of warning, but Lupin just smiled.

"I beg your pardon, Lady Selima," Lupin said cheerfully, which only served to irritate her further. Snape repressed a smile, remembering how much it used to annoy him when Lupin returned all of his taunts and insults with a polite response and a sunny smile.

Vorcher had managed to put together a delicious-smelling meal of roast chicken despite the short notice. He served them all, filling their plates with food and pouring wine into the crystal goblets--all five of them.

"Er...the boys are still underage," Lupin said.

"It's a special occasion and I don't think a single glass of wine will hurt them," Selima replied, then glanced at Snape. "But if you prefer, Vorcher can serve them water or cider."

Snape shrugged; Slytherins were not known for following the rules, and he thought it was highly unlikely that Dylan and Theodore had not tasted alcohol before at some private party or illicit gathering, or even in their own homes. "It's fine with me, so long as you don't report me to the Headmaster," he told the boys.

They grinned at him. "Yes, sir," Theodore said. "I mean, no, sir."

Vorcher bowed to Selima and said, "Vorcher will take some soup up to the Master."

Selima nodded. "He'll still be groggy from the medicine, but try to see that he finishes at least half of it. I'll come up and check on him after dinner."

"Yes, Mistress."

As the house-elf turned to leave, Lupin said, "Thank you for dinner, Vorcher. It looks and smells delicious."

Vorcher gave Lupin an uncertain look, not seeming to know how he should respond: Lupin was a werewolf, and the Mistress clearly despised him, but on the other hand, he was also a guest invited to dinner by the Mistress.

Selima seemed to understand what he was thinking. "Professor Lupin is a guest in this house, and you will treat him as such," she said, although she didn't look very happy about it, and glared at both her son and the werewolf.

Vorcher seemed even more confused than before, but he bowed to Lupin and said, "Thank you, Master Lupin. Vorcher hopes the meal is satisfactory." Then he left the room, looking greatly relieved to be doing so.

"Severin can't keep much down besides soup," Selima explained to Snape. "He has no appetite and he says it hurts to swallow." 

"Perhaps the potion will help," Snape said, looking uncomfortable.

"I hope so," Selima said, then changed the subject. She raised her glass of wine and said, "A toast, then, to the new Snape heir, and the continuance of the Snape line."

Lupin smiled warmly, raised his own glass, and said, "To the Snape heir."

Dylan grinned at Theodore, who smiled shyly, still looking as though he didn't quite believe this was all real, and Snape's sour expression softened slightly. "To the Snape heir," Snape echoed, and they all raised their glasses and took a sip of wine. An excellent vintage, of course; Selima Snape would never serve anything less at her table.

"Even though," Selima added with a pointed look at her son, "you did not beget him in the usual manner." Snape glared at her.

"He was begotten in the usual manner," Lupin said sweetly. "Just not by Severus." Selima glared at Lupin, then transferred her gaze to Snape when he laughed and tried to disguise it as a cough. Lupin smiled innocently and said in a placating tone, "But however he was begotten, he is here, and the Snape line will continue. That is the main thing, is it not?"

Selima sniffed disdainfully, but did not otherwise respond. Perhaps, Snape thought, she had figured out that arguing with the werewolf was a losing proposition. Instead, she began asking the boys questions about their classes. They told her about the potions they were making in Snape's class and about their assignments in their various other classes, although they carefully avoided mentioning their Physical Defense classes, no doubt knowing that Selima would not approve. The conversation was slightly stilted on both sides, but at least it was civil. Lupin sipped his wine and smiled indulgently, looking insufferably smug.

Snape suddenly had an idea; if anyone would know about pureblood gossip and history, it would be his mother. Perhaps she could help him divine Lukas Bleddri's origins. 

"Mother," he said slowly, "do you know of any boys from high-ranking pureblood families who supposedly died or disappeared many years ago?"

"Supposedly?" Selima asked, raising her eyebrows.

Snape smiled sardonically. "Rumors of his death may have been exaggerated. The person I'm thinking of would be about my age now if he had lived."

"Severus," Lupin said in the stern tone of warning he rarely used; Snape and Selima ignored him.

"It would help if you could be a little more specific, Severus," Selima said tartly. "How long ago did this person disappear? Do you have any idea what family he is from? And what name is he going by now?"

Snape hesitated. It would probably be better not to give her Lukas Bleddri's name; for one thing, Bleddri would probably kill him. For another, if she gossiped about it with her friends and word got around that a long-lost heir to an important family had turned up, it would cause no end of trouble, for both Snape and Bleddri. Once he got the information, he would decide what, if anything, to do with it. "I can't tell you his name," Snape said evasively. "Besides, since it's obviously an alias, it would not be much help. I don't know when he disappeared or what family he's from--"

"Oh, that's very helpful," Selima said sarcastically.

"Severus," Lupin said.

"But he probably vanished when he was in his teens, though it could be earlier." Snape figured that the werewolf probably had to have been practicing fencing at least into his teen years to have gotten as good at it as he had, although he could have been some kind of child prodigy. "He never went to Hogwarts; he may have been suffering from some kind of illness that kept him homebound. And it's possible that his family was Welsh, or at least spent enough time in Wales to pick up some of the language."

"Hmm," Selima said thoughtfully.

"Severus, I--" Lupin started to say.

"Shh!" Selima interrupted. "Be silent; let me think. Let's see...Rafe Dietrich vanished several years ago, but he went to Hogwarts, and he wasn't a child at the time..."

Theodore winced, and Snape said sharply, "It's not Rafe." 

"Well, the Crouches had a baby before Barty Junior that died in infancy. I don't think they ever spent any time in Wales, though I can't be absolutely sure. The Riggs didn't live in Wales, but a branch of their chain of supply stores was located there, and they did spend some time there in the summers, I believe. The whole family fled England after Nigel was exposed as a Death Eater; rumor has it that they moved to the United States. Nigel did have a younger brother who was a few years younger than you, Severus, and he was being educated abroad at Beauxbatons, because his family was hoping to expand their business into France. The entire McKinnon family was killed during the first war, as was Edgar Bones' family. The McKinnons had a son about your age, but the Bones's son was too young to be your mystery person. Let's see...Cynric Diggory and his son were killed in a carriage accident twenty-five years ago. The boy would have been about your age if he had lived."

"Diggory?!" Snape exclaimed.

Selima nodded. "Amos Diggory's older brother."

"I didn't know that he had a brother," Lupin said, looking startled and worried.

"There was talk, you know," Selima said, her eyes narrowing, "that it wasn't really an accident. Cynric was a Slytherin; it scandalized his family, who had a tradition of being Hufflepuffs. And he took a Slytherin wife, Anya Gravenor--who, come to think of it, was Welsh."

"Gravenor!" Snape said. "Was she related to Anwir?"

"His sister," Selima replied. "Though she died before he was revealed to have been a Death Eater. She died a few years after her husband did; pined away with grief, they say. But getting back to Cynric...he and Amos didn't get along, and his son was sickly--hmm, the Diggorys were holding him back from entering Hogwarts until his health improved, but then the so-called accident occurred. It was whispered at the time that either Amos or his parents had Cynric and his heir eliminated so that a more suitable heir could take charge of the Diggory family..."

"That's horrible if it's true!" Lupin cried out. "And a horrible thing to say if it's not!" Dylan and Theodore were staring at Snape and Selima, eyes round and wide with morbid fascination.

"Is there any truth to this rumor?" Snape asked calmly.

Selima shrugged. "The Ministry ruled it an accident, and Cynric shouldn't have been out flying on a stormy night, but he was very stubborn and sometimes reckless. Still, those carriages are built to be sturdy, and some people claimed that it must have been tampered with." As Lupin opened his mouth to speak again, she added, "Whispered rumors, nothing more. On one hand, it's plausible, but on the other hand, it's difficult to picture a Hufflepuff being so ruthless."

"I can't believe that someone could have killed their own son and grandson, or brother and nephew!" Lupin said, but he still looked troubled.

"Do you want to tell me what this is all about, Severus?" Selima asked, giving her son a penetrating stare. 

"Not yet, Mother," Snape replied. 

"Anya was my friend, Severus," Selima said, not taking her eyes from his face. "If you know something about her husband's death, and if your nameless friend is the rightful heir to the Diggory estate--"

"It's all speculation at this point, Mother," Snape said firmly. "If I learn anything definite, I'll share it with you." _Maybe,_ he added silently.

"If this person is the Diggory heir, the only reason for him to hide his identity is that he fears for his life," Selima said sharply. "Which would mean that Cynric really was murdered and that whoever killed him is indirectly responsible for Anya's death as well!"

There were other reasons why the Diggory heir might wish to hide his identity--being a werewolf, for example--but Snape couldn't mention that without exposing Bleddri's identity. Lupin shot him a look that said, "Now see what you've stirred up?!" Aloud, Lupin said, "Enough! This is nothing but gossip and speculation! As teachers of Hogwarts, as a Lady of a family of distinction, we should all be above this sort of thing!"

Selima looked amused. "You know nothing about pureblood society, Professor Lupin, if you do not know that our favorite pastime is gossiping about one another."

"I don't care!" Lupin snapped. "I've heard enough! And Severus, your 'friend' wouldn't thank you for stirring up gossip about him!"

"You can't come here and ask me all these questions and then not tell me what this is all about!" Selima complained.

"I'm sorry, Lady Selima," Lupin said politely but in a tone that brooked no argument. "Severus shouldn't have brought it up in the first place." He shot another glare Snape's way.

"It's probably nothing but gossip and outright invention, Mother," Snape said in a soothing tone. 

"But if you do find evidence of murder--" Selima said.

"I will certainly bring it to the attention of the authorities," Snape finished smoothly.

"Who ignored it the last time!" Selima snapped.

"Arthur Weasley won't ignore it," Snape said. "He's a typical Gryffindor: insufferably honorable."

Selima didn't look satisfied with that, and Lupin hastily said, "Oh my, look at the time! We really should be getting back to school!"

"Yes, I do have to brew the potion for Father," Snape agreed.

"What a dutiful son you have become," Selima said sarcastically.

"Thank you very much for dinner, Lady Selima," Lupin said politely. "It was delicious."

"Thank you, Lady Selima," Dylan echoed, with a courtly little bow.

"A charmer like your father, I see," Selima said with a wry little smile.

Dylan grinned and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Lady Sel--" Theodore said, then broke off when he saw a flicker of disapproval in her eyes. "I mean, thank you, Gr...Grandmother."

"You're welcome," Selima said. "Bring him by again sometime, Severus. If he is to inherit the Snape estate, he should spend some time here and learn something about our history and the family holdings." Snape frowned and Selima sighed. "You may bring the other two as well," she added reluctantly.

"Thank you, Lady Selima," Lupin said in a bright, chirpy tone. "We'll be sure to do that." Both Selima and Snape glared at him.

The Professors and the boys departed, and Selima leaned back in her chair, frowning down at her glass of wine as she wondered who Severus's mysterious friend was. Someone who in his current identity had no claim to a pureblood title, someone no doubt disreputable, to be the friend of a werewolf and a former Death Eater...

*** 

As soon as they were back in Snape's office, Dylan burst out, "Is Master Bleddri really the Diggory heir?!"

"Do you see what you've started, Severus?" Lupin asked irritably. "If word of this gets out, the entire school--no, everyone in the wizarding world will be gossiping about this!"

"My mother doesn't know that it's Bleddri we were talking about," Snape pointed out.

"Your mother's not stupid," Lupin said, still looking annoyed. "She knows that I'm a werewolf, and she might eventually figure out that we were talking about another werewolf--after all, werewolves are often disowned by their families, and are not usually allowed to enter Hogwarts. And if she reads the Daily Prophet, she'll know that Dumbledore recently hired another werewolf to teach here." Looking more worried now, Lupin said urgently, "If it's true that Cynric Diggory was murdered, Lukas could be in danger himself whether he's Cynric's son or not, if the murderers believe that he might expose them. And if it's not true, the Diggorys will probably blame him for the rumors even though he wasn't the one who spread them, and could possibly sue him for slander."

Snape sighed. "You're right, I probably shouldn't have brought it up. I'll talk to my mother, and try to persuade her not to say anything about it."

"Are you going to talk to Master Bleddri about it?" Dylan asked. "If he really has a claim to the Diggory estate--"

"A werewolf would never be allowed to inherit the estate!" Theodore interrupted, then gave Lupin an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Remus. I don't think it's right, but it's the truth."

"I don't think that Cedric ever held a grudge against you," Snape told Lupin, "but his parents were among those who wrote to tell the Headmaster that a werewolf should not be allowed to teach at Hogwarts."

"But legally, Master Bleddri has every right to inherit the title," Dylan insisted. "I mean, if he really is a Diggory. Because of the equal rights bill."

"That's right," Snape said, a look of sudden comprehension filling his face. "In the past, a werewolf could have been barred from inheriting the family title, but according to the bill that Weasley passed when he became Minister, werewolves hold the same rights as humans. They cannot be discriminated against. Bleddri really could inherit the title."

" _If_ he's Cynric Diggory's son," Lupin said. "And that's a pretty big 'if'. We don't even know that he's a pureblood."

"He is, I'm sure of it!" Snape said. 

"Even if he is a pureblood, he might not be a Diggory," Lupin continued. "He could have belonged to one of those other families your mother mentioned, or even another family that she didn't. There were a great many people killed during the first war--men, women, children, entire families."

"It's possible, but it fits so well," Snape said. "Anya Gravenor was Welsh, and her family traditionally practices swordplay. Did you know that Bleddri knows how to use a sword?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, but even if Lukas is a Diggory, he knows about the equal rights bill and he hasn't tried to claim the title. If he wants to let the past be, who are we to interfere?"

"Well, should I say something to Bleddri about it or not?" Snape asked.

Lupin thought it over for a moment, then replied, "I'll talk to him. I think he might take it better coming from me. But from now on, stay out Lukas's private life, Severus!"

Snape nodded, with surprising meekness, then turned to Theodore and Dylan. "It's getting late. You should return to the dorm and finish your homework before bed. And not a word of this to anyone, understand? Not even to Mr. Pierce or Mr. Zabini."

"Yes, sir," they said obediently, and left.

*** 

The next day at breakfast, Dumbledore announced that "Mr. Nott shall now be known as Mr. Snape, as Professor Snape has legally adopted him. Congratulations to you both." He beamed at Snape like an indulgent father as staff and students alike stared at them in shock. The other teachers politely congratulated Snape, except for Branwen, who gave him a hug and said, "I'm so happy for you, dear!"

"Branwen, please!" Snape protested, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws whispered to each other and threw curious glances at the Slytherin table.

"Huh!" Ron said. "So Snape's a dad now; I can't believe it!"

"He was already a father to Dylan and Theodore, essentially," Hermione pointed out. "This just makes it official."

"But why does he feel the need to make it legal now?" Harry wondered. "And why adopt just Nott and not Rosier? I thought Rosier was his favorite."

"I'm sure he loves them both, Harry," Hermione said impatiently as several of her housemates gave her incredulous looks. "But Dylan loved his parents, and Theodore...well..."

She fell silent, but everyone had heard the story of how Theodore's father had tried to turn him over to Voldemort to be sacrificed. There was an awkward moment of silence, then Parvati spoke up. "I know why the Professor adopted Theodore! His father is dying, so that means the Professor will become head of the Snape family, which means he'll need an heir of his own!"

"I thought Snape's family had disinherited him," Ron protested.

"The Professor is the last Snape," Allegra piped up, and everyone turned to look at her. "I heard my parents talking about it once. There's no one else to inherit the estate."

"That must be why Snape went to see his parents yesterday and the day before," Lavender said excitedly. "They've probably decided to forgive him and re-inherit him!"

"I don't think 're-inherit' is a word," Dean said. "And who cares what Snape does, anyway?"

"The Slytherins are not the enemy anymore," Lavender told him in a superior tone of voice. "You shouldn't hold a grudge. The Professor is strict, but he isn't a bad person."

"That's right," Parvati chimed in, nodding emphatically. "He let me and Lavender into his Advanced Potions class when he didn't have to."

"You two hated Snape last year!" Dean pointed out.

"Well, that was before we knew the truth, of course," Lavender said. "Before we knew he was a spy."

"Before we knew about him and Professor Lupin," Parvati said, and the two girls giggled.

Dean shook his head, looking disgusted, and Seamus patted him on the shoulder. "Take it easy, mate! Snape's still...well...Snape; he still likes giving out detention and all, but he did fight in the war. So I figure he's okay."

Lavender smiled at Seamus approvingly, and Dean muttered to his friend, "I can't believe you're standing up for Snape just to make time with a girl!"

Seamus turned a little red. "Shh!" he hissed, glancing at Lavender to see if she'd overheard, but she didn't seem to have. "Yeah, I want Lavender to like me," he whispered, "but I meant what I said!"

"Whatever," Dean said with a shrug, and turned away to concentrate on his breakfast. Seamus frowned, looking annoyed and a little hurt.

At the Slytherin table, the students all seemed to be talking at once, demanding to know why Dylan and Theodore hadn't told them about the adoption.

"Sorry," Dylan said. "We didn't want to talk about it without the Professor's approval. I didn't know the Headmaster was going to make a big production about it; I figured Snape would tell everyone himself."

"So we'll have to remember to call you 'Snape' now, Nott," Crabbe said. "Um...I mean Snape. Gee, that sounds kind of weird."

"Better just call me 'Theo,'" Theodore suggested.

"It's hard to picture Snape being a dad," Brad said. "I mean, if you come to dinner late or you forget to do your chores, does he give you detention?" Everyone laughed.

"I don't know," Theodore replied with a smile. "We've never given him the chance to." The children laughed again. "But seriously, he's strict, but he's okay."

"Does this mean that the Snapes are reinstating him as heir?" Pansy asked excitedly. Theodore nodded. "I knew it!" she said. "That's why he adopted you, right? He needs an heir, and he can't have one of his own because he and Professor Lupin..." She giggled.

"Do you have Snape blood?" Millicent asked curiously.

"Yeah, my great-great-great grandmother was a Snape," Theodore said. "But I didn't know that until recently."

One student at the table was not laughing or smiling. "So, Theodore," Aric said with a sneer, "moving up in the world, are we?"

"If you want to look at it that way," Theodore said coolly.

"Not much family loyalty," Aric said, "to give up your old name so easily. But then, there are a lot of dead relatives in your wake, aren't there, Theo? Uncle Thaddeus...Aunt Marta...Uncle Rafe..."

Theodore's fingers curled into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white. A worried-looking Blaise put a hand on his shoulder. Most of the other students gave Aric hostile looks, particularly Dylan, Damien, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. "Why would I want to keep the Nott name?" Theodore said in a voice just barely above a whisper, but there was a strong undercurrent of anger and bitterness running beneath the surface. "Why would I feel any loyalty to my family? I hate my father; he tried to kill me. And I hate him because he killed Rafe."

"Changing your name won't change who you are, Theo," Aric whispered back, his voice filled with hatred. "And it won't bring Rafe back."

"Don't you think I know that?" Theodore cried, slamming his fist down on the table, causing everyone to jump. "If you came to Hogwarts just to rub my face in it, then screw you, Aric; I don't answer to you. But I'll tell you one thing." He leaned across the table and put his face close to Aric's, and his dark green eyes were filled with such intensity that Aric actually shrank back a little. "You cannot possibly hate me more than I hate myself," he whispered, then left the table and stalked out of the room. Blaise instantly jumped up and ran after him.

"You might be surprised, cousin dear," Aric whispered as he watched Theodore leave.

"Listen, you son-of-a-bitch," Dylan snarled, reaching out across the table to grab Aric by the front of his robes. "I'm warning you, leave Theo alone! It's not his fault that his father killed your uncle!"

"He let Rafe die!" Aric shouted.

"He was eight years old, you moron!" Dylan shouted back. "What the hell was he supposed to do against a Death Eater? What would you have done in his place?"

"I would have done something!" Aric insisted.

"You would have gotten yourself killed if you tried!"

"I'd rather be dead than a coward!"

"You're the coward, Dietrich!" Dylan snarled, giving Aric a shake even though the other boy was taller and heavier than he was. "Your family knew that Thaddeus Nott killed Rafe Dietrich even if they couldn't prove it. Why didn't they go after him? Why didn't YOU go after him, if you're so damn brave? Did you go and challenge Thaddeus to a duel? No, you did nothing, which is why you're still alive to sit around whining about what Theo did or didn't do!"

Aric turned red and lunged to his feet, jerking free of Dylan's grasp, and started to reach for his wand. But before he or Dylan could do anything else, Lupin and Snape appeared at the Slytherin table.

"What is going on here?" Snape snapped.

"Nothing," Aric said, dropping his hand to his side.

"Nothing, sir," Dylan said. "Just a little disagreement."

"That was awfully loud for 'nothing,'" Snape said sarcastically.

"Dietrich was giving Nott--I mean, Theodore--a hard time," Draco said, and Aric glared at him.

"I warned you to stay out of trouble, boy," Snape said to Aric with a menacing glare.

"He started it!" Aric protested, pointing at Dylan. "He grabbed me first, everyone saw it! I was just defending myself!"

"He was blaming Theo for his uncle's death!" Dylan retorted. "He's been doing it ever since he got here!"

"Dietrich, I ought to send you back to Durmstrang," Snape snarled, but Lupin placed a hand on his arm.

"A detention, I think, will suffice," Lupin said quietly. "Let him serve it with me." 

Snape gave him a startled look, and Lupin gently squeezed his arm. Snape shrugged and said, "As you wish. But I'm warning you, Dietrich, any more trouble and it's back to Durmstrang with you!"

Lupin hesitated; he had an appointment with Martin Parry this afternoon. "Come to my office after dinner, Mr. Dietrich."

"Yes, sir," Aric said sullenly.

"And Dylan," Lupin said sternly, "I think you have earned a detention as well." Snape gave him another startled look.

"But he--" Dylan protested.

"Aric may have started the argument," Lupin said in a voice that was somehow gentle and implacable at the same time, "but you escalated it by grabbing him. Weren't you two about to start hexing each other?" Neither Dylan nor Aric said anything. "It's admirable that you want to protect your brother, Dylan, but you cannot fight everyone who says hurtful things about you or the ones you love. It's quite likely that you will hear many more disparaging remarks in the future about werewolves and Death Eaters and...well..." He smiled mischievously at Snape. 

"I believe one letter to the editor in the Daily Prophet referred to us as 'moral degenerates,'" Snape said helpfully, not looking particularly disturbed about it.

"So you see," Lupin continued, "you can't go around beating up or hexing everyone who says something you don't like, even if it's mean or narrow-minded or totally untrue."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said in a resigned voice.

Lupin gave both his foster son and Aric a stern look. "Hate each other if you wish--although personally, I think it's a waste of time and energy--but there will be no more brawling or hexing at the breakfast table. Or anywhere else, for that matter. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said.

Prompted by a glare from Snape, Aric sullenly said, "Yes, sir."

"What will my detention be, sir?" Dylan asked.

"Hmm, let me think," Lupin said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, and Dylan began to look a little worried. "Ah!" Lupin said, his expression brightening. "Hagrid mentioned this morning that one of his Thestrals is injured, and he could probably use some help nursing it back to health. I'll tell him to expect you after classes are over for the day."

Dylan groaned, but Lupin just smiled at him cheerfully. He glanced at Snape, who looked both annoyed and amused at the same time. Snape shook his head slightly and Dylan sighed and said in a gloomy voice, "Yes, sir."

"Can we have detention, too, Professor Lupin?" Goyle asked eagerly. "Me and Crabbe would like to work with the Thestrals!"

Lupin laughed, "Well, I can't give you detention as you haven't done anything to deserve it, but perhaps I can arrange for the two of you to assist Hagrid with the Thestrals as an extra-credit assignment. Will that do?"

"Yes, sir!" Crabbe and Goyle said happily.

"Very well," Lupin said. "Report to Hagrid along with Dylan this afternoon."

Snape glowered at the entire Slytherin table, although Aric bore the brunt of his gaze. "There will be no more trouble out of any of you today," he said in his most threatening Death Eater voice, "or you will all be very, very sorry. Is that quite clear?" 

"Yes, sir!" the Slytherins chorused, most of them going a little pale.

"Good," Snape said, and abruptly turned and stalked away from the table, his black robes billowing around him dramatically. Lupin grinned and hastened to catch up with him.

"I love your flair for the dramatic, Severus," Lupin said.

"By the way, Lupin," Snape said dryly, "did Dumbledore appoint you Head of Slytherin when I wasn't looking?"

"Guess I did kind of take over back there," Lupin said with an unrepentant grin. "Do you object to either of my detentions?"

"Not really," Snape admitted. "I wasn't going to give Dylan a detention, but I suppose you were right. He can't go around fighting with everyone who insults Theodore or you or myself." Snape did not go back to the head table, but instead left the Great Hall to look for Theodore; Lupin followed without questioning him. "But do you intend to do anything to Dietrich besides talk his ears off preaching your Gryffindor idealism?"

Lupin just chuckled. "He would probably consider that a worse punishment than disemboweling horned toads or scrubbing bedpans."  "Probably," Snape agreed, with a small, wry smile.

"I'll try to be especially chirpy and annoying," Lupin said, winking at him. "But seriously, Severus, I don't think conventional punishments are going to work with Aric, and I would like to sit down and have a serious talk with him. I think it's clear now that the problem is that he blames Theo for Rafe's death."

Snape shook his head. "We should send him back to Durmstrang."

"He's wrong to blame Theo, of course," Lupin said. "But he must have loved Rafe very much to feel such anger. Rafe was a fellow Gryffindor and a friend of mine; perhaps I can get through to Aric--"

"You're wasting your time, Lupin. That boy is a hopeless case."

"Almost everyone said the same thing about Draco," Lupin reminded him. "They all believed that he would turn out to be a Death Eater, but you and I got through to him."

"All right," Snape said reluctantly, "I'll let you try to work your magic on the boy; you did manage to charm all my other Slytherins, after all. But if I think he's becoming a threat to Theodore, I'll expel him."

"Of course I would never want to put Theo in danger," Lupin said, "but so far Aric has restrained himself to taunts and insults. I don't think that he intends to physically harm Theo."

"He'd better not," Snape said grimly, "if he knows what's good for him."

"Aric is a Slytherin, Severus," Lupin said gently. "Like it or not, he is one of yours--ours--now, and we are responsible for his well-being."

Snape grimaced. "You would have to remind me of that," he complained. "I'll try to do my duty as Head of Slytherin, but my son's welfare is more important to me than that duty. If I have to choose between them, I'll choose Theodore."

Lupin gave him a look that was both tender and sad. "I hope it won't come to that, Severus," he said softly.

"So do I," Snape sighed.

*** 

Blaise ran down the corridor after Theodore. "Theo, wait!" he called, but the other boy didn't slow down. Blaise finally caught up to his lover and grabbed his arm, forcing him to come to a halt. "Theo, what happened to your uncle isn't your fault," he said urgently. "You can't let Aric get to you like that!"

Theodore sighed and leaned against the wall, suddenly looking very weary. "Aric and I never liked each other, even as little kids. He was kind of a bully, and we were always getting into fights at family gatherings, but we didn't really hate each other, either, until Rafe died. I guess I can't blame Aric for hating me. I don't think I hate him so much as I hate the fact that he reminds me that it's my fault Rafe is dead. Even if he doesn't open his mouth, just looking at him makes me feel guilty. Aric looks a lot like my uncle, you know."

"Theo, it's not your fault," Blaise repeated helplessly, but it was obvious that his words weren't reaching Theodore. "You were just a child; there was nothing you could have done. Please tell me you didn't mean what you said about hating yourself. You've been so happy recently, living with the Professors and Dylan, and now the adoption. I hate to see you looking so miserable again."

He slipped his arms around Theodore and pulled him close. For a moment, Theodore leaned into the embrace, then he pulled away, saying, "Not in public, Blaise."

Blaise reminded himself that he had agreed that they should keep their relationship secret until they graduated, but he still felt hurt. He tried not to show it, and Theodore was too preoccupied to notice. Blaise was still wracking his brain trying to think of something to say that would comfort Theo, when Lupin and Snape showed up, much to his relief. Surely the Professors would know what to do.

"Theodore," Snape said, looking concerned, "I didn't hear everything that was said, but I heard enough." He placed his hand on Theodore's shoulder. "You are not responsible for Rafe's death." 

Theodore just stared up at him with that weary, guilty look in his eyes. "He was trying to protect me," he whispered.

"I repeat: it was not your fault," Snape said in his testy Potions Master voice, yet it was tempered with a hint of sympathy. "I am not saying these things just because I like hearing the sound of my voice. The one most to blame, of course, was Thaddeus, and after that, Rafe himself." Theodore began to look a little offended and opened his mouth to protest, but Snape cut him off. "I'm not saying that he deserved to die, but he behaved very foolishly. Coming from a Slytherin family, he should have known better than to confront a Death Eater directly. He picked up too much of that Gryffindor idealism and hotheadedness at Hogwarts."

"Rafe tended to act without thinking," Lupin sighed. "I hate to admit it, but it seems to be a Gryffindor trait."

"And part of the blame lies with myself and the Headmaster," Snape continued grimly. "I could have testified against Lucius and Thaddeus and the other Death Eaters, but when we discovered that Voldemort was banished but not truly dead, we decided that I needed to keep my cover as a Death Eater, because we knew that he would return again someday. But if I had testified and sent Thaddeus to Azkaban, then he would not have been able to kill Rafe. Or to hurt you, for that matter." Theodore stared at him, looking stunned. "You know your history, Theodore. Not everyone can be saved in a war; sometimes decisions of expediency are made, and individuals are sacrificed for the greater good. I never intended for Rafe to be sacrificed, but that does not change the fact that he is dead. I am far more to blame for his death than you are."

Snape stared solemnly at his son, waiting for Theodore's response with just a hint of anxiety in his black eyes. Theodore still seemed too stunned to respond, but Blaise burst out, "But if you hadn't spied on the Death Eaters, then we might have lost the war! And they might have killed you for being a traitor when the Dark Lord returned!"

Theodore suddenly went pale at the thought of Snape being killed. "I don't blame you, Prof...Fa..." He stumbled over his words, not seeming to know whether to call Snape "Professor" or "Father"; he finally settled on, "...sir." 

Snape relaxed, looking relieved, and said, "Then please don't blame yourself, Theodore. You were only eight years old; there was nothing you could have accomplished, save to have gotten yourself killed as well. There were others far older and wiser than you--" Snape grimaced. "--well, older anyway--who should share the burden of guilt. Myself. The Headmaster. The Ministry and the wizarding world at large for refusing to see the danger that was right in front of them, for allowing Lucius Malfoy to buy them off with his money and his reputation." 

"It is true that Rafe wanted to protect you," Lupin said gently. "So he would not have wanted you to throw your life away for his sake. He would have been glad that you survived, and I think he would have been proud of the way you fought the Death Eaters in the end." Theodore's eyes filled with tears, and Lupin stepped forward and hugged him tightly.

Theodore looked much better, and a little more at peace with himself when Lupin finally released him. "Thank you, Remus," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Lupin said, smiling at him tenderly. "I know the situation with Aric is difficult, but try to bear with it, and remember that it's not your fault. I think that deep down, Aric must know it isn't really your fault, but sometimes grief causes people to act in strange ways and look for someone, anyone, to blame, whether it's their fault or not." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Sometimes people use anger as a defense mechanism to keep their grief at bay."

Theodore didn't look entirely convinced, but he just said, "Yes, sir."

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable, and he said gruffly, "Class will be starting soon." As if on cue, the bell signaling the end of the breakfast period rang. "The two of you had better run along or you'll be late. And don't worry about Mr. Dietrich; Lupin and I will handle him. If he gives you any more trouble, let me know."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said. He was about to head to class when he realized that he had left behind his bookbag in his haste to leave the Great Hall; so had Blaise. They were about to head back when Dylan and Damien ran up, carrying their bags.

"Figured you'd need these," Dylan said with a grin.

"Thanks," Theodore said, grinning back at him, and Dylan looked relieved.

"Don't listen to that stupid git Dietrich," Damien said scornfully. "Everyone knows he's full of hot air. God, I never thought I'd meet anyone more annoying than Malfoy!"

"Hey!" Draco said indignantly from behind them; he was accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. 

Damien laughed. "No offense, Draco!"

Draco just snorted. "Are you okay, Nott? Sorry, I mean Sna...uh...Theo?"

Theodore felt oddly touched that they had all come to check up on him. He wondered if some of what Snape referred to as Lupin's "Gryffindor sentimentality" was beginning to rub off on him, for him to start feeling sappy about Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, for Merlin's sake! But then he thought maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all, as he recalled the times that Lupin had comforted him and tucked him into bed and stayed to watch over him after his bad dreams. 

And Lupin's influence had changed Snape as well; he doubted that Snape would ever have been able to say, "I love you," or offer to adopt him without Lupin's encouragement. Not because Lupin had forced Snape to take pity on him, as he had once assumed, but because Lupin seemed to bring out the best in Snape, to draw out the hidden core of compassion that no one else had seen. Lupin had done it to all them, Theodore suddenly realized, not just Snape, but himself, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Serafina, Doherty--all the Slytherins. He had believed in them, and it had somehow become impossible for them to let him down and betray his trust.

"I'm all right," Theodore said with a smile, and he meant it. It suddenly seemed easier to put up with Aric's presence, knowing that he had his family and friends by his side.

"Good," Lupin said, looking relieved. "You had better head to class, then. We'll see you at lunch."

*** 

Snape breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Theodore and the others leave.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"I gave him the perfect excuse to hate me," Snape replied, "and I was afraid he'd take me up on it. But I would rather have him hate me than himself."

"You underestimate him, Severus," Lupin told him. "I think it helped him to know that he is not the only one struggling with feelings of guilt and regret. And besides, he loves you very much; he could never hate you."

Snape's lips curved in a slightly twisted and not entirely happy smile. "I have loved you since I was fifteen years old, Lupin, but that didn't stop me from also hating you. That is what you were referring to, wasn't it, when you were talking about anger being a defense mechanism?"

"Not just you," Lupin said softly. "Sirius also."

"Oh, being compared to the mongrel makes me feel so much better," Snape grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Lupin laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't forget that the two of you are related!"

"Please don't remind me!" Snape groaned.

"I'm sure Sirius will be equally horrified when I tell him, if that makes you feel any better."

"Only a little," Snape said sourly.

"Don't pout, my love; it's not becoming," Lupin said, kissing him lightly on the mouth. 

A group of first-years passing through the corridor on their way to class stopped to gawk at them. "And what are you looking at?!" Snape snarled, and they turned pale and ran off.

"Temper, temper," Lupin said.

"It's all your fault," Snape said accusingly, "for embarrassing me in public. It's very unprofessional, you know, for teachers to be caught kissing in the corridors."

"Very," Lupin agreed solemnly, although his blue eyes were filled with laughter. "Meet you in your office between classes?"

Snape tried to scowl at him, but he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from curving up into a smile. "Make it your office," he said. "The last time we almost knocked over the students' potion samples."

"Well, you should have cleared the desk first."

"I would have, but someone seemed to be in an awful hurry..."

"I'll see you in my office, then, after first period," Lupin said, winking at Snape. "Don't be late."

"I am always punctual, Lupin," Snape replied with an air of offended dignity.

*** 

Aric's first class of the day was Transfiguration; no Potions class today, thank Merlin. He watched a delighted smile spread across his cousin's normally sullen face when McGonagall called on him, saying, "Mr. Nott...excuse me, I mean Mr. Snape." And McGonagall, who seemed like a pretty stern, no-nonsense type (though not as bad as Snape), smiled indulgently at Theodore's reaction.

Aric scowled, wondering what he was doing here at Hogwarts; he could have stayed at Durmstrang, where he had many friends, was one of the stars of the Quidditch team, and was well-regarded by his teachers. But when he'd heard about his uncle's death, he had insisted on transferring to Hogwarts to...well, he wasn't exactly sure what. To make Theodore pay for Rafe's death somehow, he supposed. Because he was sure it was Theo's fault that Rafe was dead. Aunt Marta had been too cowed by her husband to complain about him to her brother, so it must have been Theo who had caused Rafe to confront Thaddeus and thus lose his life. Theo had always been a little whiner, and Rafe had always been protective of him; Aric remembered how Rafe used to scold him and his older sister for picking on Theodore.

Rafe would kneel beside them, his brown eyes filled with disappointment, not anger, which would have been easier to bear, and say in a gentle but stern voice, "You should be kinder to Theo. He has a difficult time of it at home, you know." Thaddeus had been smart enough never to physically harm his wife or son in public, but he lashed out at them verbally often enough, which had caused Rafe to regard him with dislike and suspicion. 

"Yes, Uncle Rafe," Aric would mumble obediently, even though he had privately thought that it wasn't his problem that Theo was too much of a wimp to stick up for himself; maybe his father would respect him more if he didn't cringe and snivel so much. But he had kept these thoughts to himself, because Rafe was a softhearted Gryffindor and wouldn't understand. Rafe had scandalized his family by becoming a Gryffindor, but he was so irresistibly charming that they couldn't help but forgive him. A smile and a wink was all it took to disarm his angry parents or siblings; there was something about Rafe that made it impossible to hate him. 

The children in the family all adored him and competed with each other for his affection. Rafe had sworn that he loved them all equally, but it had often seemed to Aric that Rafe had a soft spot for whiny little Theodore, who warranted extra attention because his daddy was mean to him, poor baby. Unconsciously, Aric's upper lip curled into a sneer. That little bastard had not only witnessed Rafe's death, but had kept it secret all these years, letting Aric and his family live with the grief and worry of not really knowing what had happened to their beloved son, brother, and uncle.

Only after the war was over and Thaddeus Nott safely dead did Theodore come forward and tell the truth. It didn't seem fair to Aric that Theo got to live happily-ever-after with a new family (even if his new "parents" were a perverted werewolf and former Death Eater) when Rafe was dead, lying in some unmarked, unknown grave. Theodore had claimed not to have known what Thaddeus had done with the body; the Aurors were trying to obtain information from the imprisoned Death Eaters, and Aric's family had hired Seers to scry for the location of Rafe's grave, but it was likely that they would never have a body to bury.

And now Theo thought he could move on, throw away his past along with his name, and take on the title of the Snape heir. Well, Aric wouldn't let him. He wasn't exactly sure how, but he intended to take revenge for his uncle's death. He would watch, and wait, for the right opportunity.

*** 

Aric's next class was Defense Against the Dark Arts; he wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but at least it would give him a chance to study the werewolf.

Lupin rushed in through the door a few minutes after class was supposed to have started. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said breathlessly, looking a little flushed. "I...ah...had a few things to take care of in my office." He smiled at Daphne Greengrass, who was sitting quietly at the back of the room. "Welcome back, Daphne. I hope you're feeling better."

Daphne blushed as everyone turned to look at her. "I am, sir, thank you," she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Because Aric was sitting right behind Pansy, he was able to overhear her when she leaned over and whispered to Millicent, "Nothing wrong with her except that her family was afraid of the Death Eaters."

"Is there something you would like to share with the class, Miss Parkinson?" Lupin asked.

"No, Professor," Pansy said hastily.

"Then let's get started, shall we?" Lupin said. "Last year I taught you how to shield yourself from curses and repel them. Of course it's always better to avoid a curse if you can, but sometimes it's impossible, so this term I will teach you curse-breaking."

"Lycanthropy is a curse, isn't it?" Aric asked with an air of feigned innocence. "Will you teach us how to defend against it?"

The entire class, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, glared at him murderously and for a moment, Aric thought he'd finally gone too far. But Lupin just smiled pleasantly and replied, "Professor Snape already covered werewolves in this class during third year when he was substituting for me, Aric, but I'll be happy to go over it with you if you like. You can make an appointment to see me in my office for private tutoring, and in the meantime, please read the chapters on werewolves in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and A Guide to Dark Creatures. You can find them in the library if you don't already own them. Oh, and please prepare a summary of what you've read and have it ready to turn in by Monday; that'll give you the weekend to work on it."

Lupin smiled cheerily at Aric, who turned red with anger as the other students started snickering, although they quickly subsided when Lupin gave them a stern look. _I walked right into that one!_ Aric thought ruefully. 

Now he was stuck with an extra homework assignment, and it was possible that Lupin would actually follow through on his threat of extra lessons, although Aric hoped he was only bluffing. From now on, he would no longer underestimate the werewolf just because of his gentle demeanor and supposed Gryffindor idealism. 

Aric belatedly realized that it might be better to keep a low profile and stop attracting so much attention to himself. He had to start thinking like a Slytherin, and use his brain instead of being controlled by his emotions. He'd allowed his hatred for Theodore to overwhelm him, which had caused him to act recklessly; he couldn't get his revenge if he got expelled from Hogwarts. He needed to be patient until the right opportunity came along, and in the meantime, perhaps he could lull Theodore and his "parents" into complacency.

"Yes, sir," Aric said, trying to look suitably chastened.

Lupin returned to his lecture on curses, explaining that there were many different types of curses, and nearly as many different ways to break them. "Some can be broken with a simple Finite Incantatum spell, while others might require a complex incantation or a special type of potion. To break a curse, you must first understand what type of spell you are dealing with. Most times it is obvious, but there are times when a person might not realize that he or she is under a curse, if it is cast at a distance or secretly placed on some item in their possession. So to begin with, I will teach you the Aperio spell, which makes magical enchantments visible to the human eye."

Aric repressed a sneer, and refrained from telling Lupin that he had learned that spell two years ago at Durmstrang. Malfoy, however, self-importantly declared that he already knew how to cast it.

Lupin just smiled mischievously. "Yes, come to think of it, you, Harry, and Ron have all seen the spell demonstrated by Professor Blackmore, and you did have some experience dealing with difficult-to-break curses." For some reason Aric did not understand, all three boys turned red and the class started snickering again.

Aric had to grudgingly admit that Lupin knew his stuff. He demonstrated the Aperio spell and had the students practice it for the first half of the period, then spent the second half discussing ways to recognize and break curses. They practiced a few simple spells, but the reading that Lupin assigned as homework covered much more advanced spells. Lupin was far more patient and indulgent than Aric's instructors at Durmstrang, but he seemed to be effective; the students all mastered the basics of what he was trying to teach them, although some were better at it than others. Aric noticed that Lupin altered his approach with each student: he gently coaxed and encouraged Crabbe, Goyle, and Longbottom, praising their efforts profusely; offered more brisk and hearty encouragement to Potter and Weasley; and responded to Malfoy's slightly condescending declarations of "I know that spell already" with a cheerful, "Then why don't you demonstrate it for us, Draco?"

Lupin doled out points at the end of class, the amount depending on how well each student had performed. Even those who had not been entirely successful with their spells got at least five points, and Aric had performed the spells with ease since he had already studied them at Durmstrang. Lupin smiled and said, "Ten points to Slytherin for Aric. You show excellent mastery of the Aperio spell, which will come in very useful when we attempt to unweave the more complex curses. Well done."

Aric stared at him in shock, too stunned to react, and Lupin moved on to the next student. Aric's teachers at Durmstrang were more like Snape, who clearly favored certain students above the others, usually those whose families were wealthy and influential. So why was Lupin paying a compliment to his foster son's enemy? Come to think of it, although he had given Aric detention this morning, Lupin had also punished Dylan, his other foster son. Was this just Lupin's Gryffindor idealism at work, or was he trying to trick Aric into letting his guard down? 

Aric resolved to be careful around the werewolf. Then he saw Theodore flash him a resentful look, and he felt a small twinge of malicious pleasure. Aric, of course, had no interest in cultivating a werewolf's friendship, but perhaps he should, if only to make Theo jealous. It was a small and petty thing, but it could be the first step in taking revenge on his cousin.

*** 

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Lukas?" Lupin asked.

Lukas's last class had just filed out of the room, groaning and rubbing their bruises. "I suppose so," he replied. "But you'll have to hurry or we'll be late for lunch." He grinned wolfishly. "And I've worked up an appetite, whipping these young cubs into shape."

Lupin laughed. "It seems you've taken to teaching, after all, despite your reservations!"

Lukas looked a little uncomfortable. "Yes, well, the kids aren't as bad as I thought they'd be. They're surprisingly well-behaved, even the Slytherins. Some of them even like the lessons. So what did you want to talk to me about, Remus?"

Lupin's smile vanished. "Well, um..."

Lukas crossed his arms, giving his friend a suspicious look. "All right, Lupin, out with it!"

"We had dinner with Selima Snape last night," Lupin said, "and she told us a great deal of interesting gossip about the pureblood families."

"You know I'm not interested in such things, Remus," Lukas said, still gazing at him suspiciously.

"One of the stories she told," Lupin continued, "was about an heir to a pureblood family who was killed in accident along with his young son. Only Selima says that it might not have been an accident, and Severus thinks that the son might not really be dead..."

Lukas gave up his pose of indifference and lunged forward, grabbing Lupin by the front of his robes. Lupin fought the urge to bare his throat in submission; the wolf inside him wanted to whine and submit to what it recognized as a pack leader. As he had once told Severus, he was not an alpha wolf. But Severus was his alpha, not Lukas, and the act of submission had become so intertwined with their lovemaking that it would seem like a betrayal to submit to someone else. So Lupin fought off his wolfish instincts and forced himself to hold his ground.

"Stay out of this, Lupin!" Lukas snarled. "This is none of your business!"

"But if you are the missing heir--"

Lukas shoved Lupin away from him and snapped, "This is not a fairy tale, Lupin! You and Snape have been reading too many bad novels! And even if it were true, no one would ever let a werewolf become head of a pureblood family!"

"But the law states that--"

"It doesn't matter what the law says! The purebloods would never let a werewolf inherit the title and taint the bloodline! Besides, I wouldn't take the title if they handed it to me on a silver platter! I want nothing to do with those arrogant, self-centered bigots!"

"If you don't want the inheritance, what about justice for those who died?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Justice?" Lukas asked with a bitter, mocking laugh. "After everything you have been through, after everything you have endured, do you really still believe in justice, Remus?"

"I do," Lupin replied. "Although Severus would no doubt say that I am an idealistic Gryffindor fool."

"In this case, Severus would be right."

"Things are different now," Lupin argued. "Arthur Weasley--"

"Is a good man, I must admit," Lukas said, "but he is only one man. There is only so much he can do. He can pass all the laws he likes, but he cannot force society to change overnight. We are supposedly equal with the humans now, Remus, but none of my wolves' families have offered to take them back. Brian sent a wedding invitation to his parents, and they sent it back to him in pieces, along with a note saying that he is no kin of theirs and never to contact them again."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lupin said with sincere regret. "How did he take it?"

Lukas shrugged. "He was sad, but resigned. He has accepted his place in my pack; he knows that we are his true family now. But you see, Remus, despite the law that says he is equal, despite the fact that he is a hero of the war, his pureblood family still wants nothing to do with him." Lupin remained silent, unable to argue with that. "There can be no true justice for the dead," Lukas said with a weary sigh. "Only revenge, and that will not bring the dead back to life. Let the past be, Remus, and tell your mate to stop meddling in my life."

"Yes, Lukas," Lupin said, bowing his head. "I am sorry; Severus should not have meddled, and I told him so. But I wanted to tell you that if you wished to pursue this matter, that we would help you."

"You have helped me enough, Lupin," Lukas said dryly. "It's all your fault that I'm stuck teaching these brats!"

Lupin laughed, relieved that Lukas wasn't going to hold a grudge. "You'll make a wonderful teacher, I'm sure! You've already gotten through to Aric Dietrich a little, or so Severus has told me."

"Severus should mind his own business," Lukas grumbled good-naturedly. "Come on, let's go to lunch; I'm starving!"

*** 

At lunch, Lupin spoke to McGonagall about Martin Parry. She reported that she had given Mr. Parry a "stern talking-to," and that he had promised not to cut any more classes, but had refused to say what was bothering him, insisting that nothing was wrong. "But obviously something is," she sighed. "You're very good with the children, Remus; I hope you'll be able to get it out of him."

Filch showed up in the middle of lunch and walked over to the Headmaster. "There's a man at the gates demanding to see Professor Snape," Filch said. "Says his name is Terrence Nott." Filch asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, "Want me to throw him out? I could borrow Hagrid's dog and--"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I believe Professor Snape can handle this."

"I've been expecting him," Snape said with a smug smile on his face. "I've been wondering how long it would take for word to spread; not long, apparently. Show Mr. Nott to my office, please."

"Yes, Professor," Filch replied, although he looked very disappointed.

Snape rose from his seat and Lupin did likewise. "Would you like me to come with you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"No need to interrupt your lunch, Headmaster," Snape replied, still looking smug. "I can handle this myself."

A few minutes later, Terrence Nott, Thaddeus Nott's younger brother, burst into Snape's office shouting, "What do you think you're doing, Snape? I won't let the Snape family steal the Nott inheritance away from us!"

"What are you talking about, Nott?" Snape asked in a tone of feigned boredom.

"You know what I'm talking about!" Terrence shouted. "You've adopted Theodore!"

"And why have you suddenly developed an interest in the boy's welfare?" Snape asked scornfully, although he knew perfectly well what the answer was.

"We didn't think you'd object to the adoption," Lupin said in a quiet but cold voice, with none of his customary gentleness in his eyes, "seeing as how you said you wanted nothing to do with Theodore after his parents died."

Terrence flashed a quick, contemptuous look Lupin's way, then turned back to Snape, as if it were beneath his dignity to speak to a werewolf. "I don't give a damn about the boy," he snarled, "but he cannot inherit the Nott estate if he is no longer a Nott!"

Snape reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment, and tossed it to Terrence with a careless flick of his wrist. Terrence unrolled it and read it, and his eyes went wide with shock. "As you can see," Snape said in a lazy, bored tone of voice, "Theodore has surrendered his claim to the Nott estate. Which I believe would make you Lord of the Nott estate, as you are next in line to inherit." 

Snape watched Terrence's eyes fill with greed and pleasure, then added in a contemptuous voice, "I told Theodore to sign it over to you. He hardly needs to bother with that piddling little estate now that he is the Snape heir." The pleasure left Terrence's eyes and his face turned red with anger. Snape pretended not to notice, and began rifling through some papers in his desk.

After a moment, he looked up and blinked, as if in surprise. "Oh, are you still here, Nott? Well, now that everything's settled, you can see yourself out, can't you? I'm afraid I'm a little busy right now; there are a lot of things I still need to do to transfer the Snape title over to Theodore. Of course, I just rejoined the family myself, so I need to go over the family holdings, which are quite extensive, so it will take some time to tally it all up properly..." He frowned thoughtfully at the papers, then looked up again. "Why are you still here, Nott?"

Terrence Nott turned on his heel and stomped out of the room without another word. Lupin closed the door behind him, then leaned against it and started to laugh. "You could have just owled the paper to him, Severus."

"Yes, but this was so much more fun, don't you think?" Snape asked with a grin. "I wanted to pay him back a little for the way he abandoned Theodore after Thaddeus and Marta died."

A vindictive smile spread across Lupin's face, which was a very unusual sight, but he was fiercely protective of his "cubs," and he didn't like the way the Nott family had treated Theodore, either. "You gave him what he wanted, but he didn't take as much pleasure in it as he thought he would."

"There's nothing a Slytherin hates more than being made to feel unimportant," Snape said, still grinning wickedly.

"By the way, I thought this business with the Snape title was settled already," Lupin said.

"Of course it is, Lupin," Snape replied, and held up the papers he'd been looking through. "My mother has all the documents relating to the Snape holdings; these are just my lesson plans. I just wanted to rub it in Nott's face how much more wealthy my family is than his." Lupin laughed and Snape smiled ruefully. "Damn, I wouldn't have had Morrigan fight so hard to keep the Nott estate intact if I'd known we'd be giving it to Terrence! I should have let the Ministry clean out the Gringotts account and tear the mansion apart."

Lupin laughed again, then came over and slipped his arms around Snape. "I love it when you're being wicked, Severus," he whispered into Snape's ear.

Lupin's breath tickling his ear made Snape shiver pleasantly. He glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "There's about half an hour left on lunch. Do you want to go back to the Great Hall?"

Lupin nipped at his earlobe and whispered, "I'm not hungry. At least, not for food..."

"I thought that's what you'd say," Snape said with a grin, and began removing anything that was breakable from his desk.

*** 

Lupin whistled cheerfully as he headed back to the DADA classroom after lunch. When he arrived, he noticed that his first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class had segregated themselves by House (as was normal with all his classes), but Allegra had come over to the Slytherin side of the room and was talking to the Slytherin girls, who were responding in a friendly enough manner, asking her questions about her brother's friend, Dylan Rosier. Lupin grinned as he recalled how Lavender and Parvati had bonded with Pansy and Millicent over their shared crushes on Dylan; his foster son certainly seemed to function as a great icebreaker for the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Some of the Gryffindors were frowning at Allegra, but not all of them, which Lupin hoped was a good sign.

"Take your seats, please," Lupin said with a smile, and Allegra returned to her desk on the Gryffindor side of the room. He had already taken the time to memorize the names and faces of the first-years when they had been Sorted, but he introduced himself and then greeted each of them personally, just to be sure that he'd gotten it right. They seemed very impressed that he knew who they were without taking roll, as if he'd done it by magic, when all it had taken was a little observation, and Lupin grinned in amusement. 

"Chloe Sinclair," he said, pausing in front of the desk of a cheerful-looking blonde Gryffindor girl. "Your father was a housemate of mine." Her father Cassidy was the man who had invented the magical music boxes that were now commonplace in the wizarding world, and he had helped fund the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program with his newfound wealth, for which Lupin was very grateful.

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling up at him. "He sends his greetings."

The boy sitting next to her, Jarrett Jordan, proudly informed Lupin that his cousin Lee was now working as an announcer at professional Quidditch matches. "I'm sure he's doing a fine job," Lupin said. "The school matches just aren't the same without him." Then the entire room fell silent as he reached Portia Pettigrew's desk. She stared up at him, looking pale and frightened. Poor child; did she really think that he was going to blame her for what her uncle had done? Apparently she did, along with the rest of the class, judging by their apprehensive expressions. "Hello, Portia," he said kindly. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Y-you are?" she stammered incredulously.

"But her uncle killed your friends!" Kenneth Sloper blurted out.

"As a werewolf, I am the very last person who would ever judge people on appearances," Lupin said quietly. "I believe in judging people by their actions, not by their names or their relatives." Portia smiled at him hesitantly, and the class fell silent again. 

Lupin continued with the lesson, but he watched his students carefully throughout the period. He noticed that most of the Gryffindors regarded Portia with suspicion, and the Slytherins with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. No one was outright rude to her, but Allegra was the only one who made friendly overtures towards her, which were immediately rebuffed--which in turn caused Emma and Chloe to frown; it seemed they had already taken a liking to Allegra. Lupin remembered that Peter had been eager to gain the friendship of his housemates, almost desperately so, while Portia just seemed to want to be left alone. 

Then again, Peter had not been branded with the stigma of having a disgraced traitor and Death Eater for an uncle. Lupin sighed inwardly. Portia's physical resemblance to Peter couldn't help but make Lupin feel a little uncomfortable, but he still wanted to help her. He knew all too well what it felt like to be lonely and despised. 

Well, he would just have to be patient and try to win her trust, which would probably not be easy, but he'd had plenty of practice with his Slytherin lover and students. If he could win over Draco Malfoy, not to mention Severus Snape, surely Lupin would be able to win over Portia, eventually. And Allegra was a sweet but very persistent little girl; maybe she would succeed in breaking down Portia's resistance before Lupin did.

*** 

Martin Parry reported to Lupin's office after classes were over. "Please have a seat, Martin," Lupin said cheerfully. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you," Martin said sullenly.

"Are you sure?" Lupin asked, pouring out a cup of tea from the teapot sitting on his desk. "I'm making some for myself; it's no trouble."

"I'm sure."

"How about a cookie?" Lupin offered, picking up a plate filled with sugar cookies covered with colored sugar sprinkles. "They're still warm; Dobby just brought them up from the kitchen."

"No thank you, sir," Martin said impatiently, squirming in his chair a little.

Lupin's pet rat squeaked, sticking its snout through the bars of its cage, nose and whiskers twitching eagerly. "It seems Kiseki would like one," Lupin laughed, and broke off a small piece of cookie and fed it to the rat. He then ate the rest of the cookie himself and took a sip of tea.

"Please, sir," Martin said, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice, "Professor McGonagall gave me another detention in addition to the one Master Bleddri gave me; I need to see her after I'm done here. If this is about yesterday, I apologize for my rudeness."

Lupin set down his tea cup, looking serious now. "I don't want an apology, and I'm not concerned about your rudeness so much as I am concerned about you. You have always been one of my best students, bright and eager to learn. What has happened to change that?"

"Nothing," Martin mumbled, but he stared down at his feet and refused to meet Lupin's eyes.

"I am accustomed to hearing the usual insults about werewolves, of course," Lupin said. "I have come to expect them, especially from the Slytherin students whose parents place so much importance on blood purity, but I did not think that my lycanthropy bothered you." Lupin allowed a tone of hurt confusion to creep into his voice, and Martin glanced up, a look of guilt on his face, before he dropped his gaze again. Encouraged, Lupin said, "I know it's not just me personally, since you cut Master Bleddri's class the other day. Something has happened to make you hate werewolves." Martin flinched, and Lupin continued in a very soft and gentle voice, as if trying to soothe a frightened wild animal that was poised to flee, "Did something happen over the summer, Martin? Did a werewolf harm you or someone in your family?"

Martin went tense, and for a moment Lupin thought he had misjudged, that the boy would run out of the room. But instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled-up wad of paper and silently handed it to Lupin. Lupin carefully unfolded it, and found that it was an envelope, a letter addressed to Martin. Inside was a clipping from the Daily Prophet, one of the series of articles Rita Skeeter had done on the werewolves' role in the battle against the Death Eaters; it featured a photo of Lukas with several of his pack members, including Brian and Kyra. 

Also in the envelope was an invitation to Brian's and Kyra's wedding. Scrawled on it was a note that read: "I'm sorry that you had to find out about it this way. I wish I could have told you earlier, but your parents and mine forbade it. But now that I am a 'respectable' member of society once again, I feel I have the right to invite you to my wedding. I hope you will come; it would make me very happy to have someone from my family there, and for you to meet my friends and fiancee, and for them to meet you. But I will understand if you cannot, or do not want to come. Regardless of what you decide, of what you may think of me, I will always love you. Love, Brian."

Lupin's jaw dropped open as something suddenly clicked in his mind: Lukas's declaration that Martin seemed somehow familiar to him, the similarities of Martin's and Brian's last names...Parry...Perry. "You're related to Brian!" he blurted out. "His...brother? Cousin?"

"He's my uncle," Martin said, his eyes filling with tears. "My father's younger brother. He disappeared almost two years ago. First my family said that he had been in an accident, but they wouldn't let me go visit him at St. Mungo's. Then they said he had gone away to recuperate in the countryside, and that he couldn't have visitors because he was too weak. But when weeks went by without word from him, I kept pestering my parents about it, and they finally told me that Uncle Brian had done something terrible and that my grandparents had disinherited him, and I was never to mention his name again."

"He was attacked by a werewolf," Lupin said gently. "It wasn't his fault; he didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't know that then," Martin whispered. "I thought he must have done something really bad, for my parents not to want to even say what it was. I thought maybe he'd become a Death Eater or something. I didn't find out the truth until this summer, when these articles started showing up in the Daily Prophet, and then when the wedding invitations came. My grandfather was furious; apparently he told Brian that he could no longer use the Parry name, so he changed his last name, but only by one letter, and with his picture in the paper, people are eventually going to figure out who he really is, if they haven't already, and expose my family's shame to the world. At least, that's what Grandfather says." Martin's voice started to shake. "I'm sorry, Professor, I know it's not your fault, but I kept thinking about how a werewolf had taken my uncle away from us, and I started hating all werewolves..."

The boy began to weep, and Lupin came around from behind the desk and put an arm around him. "I'm so sorry, Martin," he murmured. 

"Why did that werewolf attack him?" Martin sobbed. "Why wasn't he taking the Wolfsbane Potion like you do?"

"It wasn't made widely available until just recently," Lupin explained gently. "It's very expensive, and many werewolves could not afford to buy it. And even if they could, some of them might have been afraid to go to St. Mungo's or a Potions shop to buy it, for fear of people finding out about their lycanthropy. Without the equal rights bill in place, they could have lost their jobs or been disowned if anyone discovered their secret."

"Like my family disowned Brian," Martin wept.

"Yes," Lupin said softly. "People fear us because they do not understand us, but you should not be ashamed of your uncle, Martin. He is a very brave man; he risked his life to fight the Death Eaters. I don't know him very well, but he seems like a good person to me. Master Bleddri knows him better; perhaps he would be willing to talk to you about Brian sometime."

Martin sniffled and ran his sleeve across his eyes. "Do you really think so?"

Lupin smiled. "If you ask him nicely, I'm sure he will. Brian is one of his pack members." Martin looked startled, and Lupin said, "Not all werewolf traits are bad, Martin. Wolves are social animals, and since most of us are bereft of our families, we tend to seek out a pack of our own to belong to, a family of choice rather than blood, if you will. And we are fiercely loyal to our pack."

"A-and Master Bleddri is part of Brian's pack?" Martin asked.

Lupin nodded. "He is the pack leader, in fact."

"That's right, the Daily Prophet said he was the leader of all the werewolves."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Lupin clarified. "He doesn't command all of the werewolves in England, but a great number of them regard him as their leader. Most of them were outcasts living alone in fear until he gathered them together and gave them a sense of purpose and belonging."

"And are you part of this pack?" Martin asked curiously.

Lupin laughed. "No, although I do consider Lukas to be my friend, my true pack is Professor Snape, Theodore, and Dylan. And also Professor Blackmore, my friend Sirius Black, and Harry."

"What about this girl that Uncle Brian is marrying?" Martin asked. "Is she part of Master Bleddri's pack? Do you know her? What is she like? Is she pretty? Is she nice?"

Lupin smiled to hear the old eagerness returning to Martin's voice. "Yes, she belongs to Master Bleddri's pack. I don't know her well, but she is very pretty, and she seems to be a very brave and...ah...outspoken young woman." He grinned. "Feisty, one might say."

"I wish I could go to the wedding," Martin said wistfully.

"Why don't you, then?" Lupin cheerfully suggested.

"B-but I can't!" Martin stammered. "I'd need special permission to leave the school--"

"Which I'm sure your Head of House would grant," Lupin said with a smile.

"But wouldn't I also need my parents' permission?" Martin asked dubiously. "I know they'd never give it!"

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully, then his expression suddenly brightened. "You have your parents' permission to go to Hogsmeade, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then," Lupin said, "perhaps I can persuade the Headmaster to make that Saturday a Hogsmeade day. Then you wouldn't need special permission to leave the school. And if you just happened to run into a few of your teachers, and they just happened to invite you to go for a little walk with them..."

"That's quite devious of you, sir!" Martin said in an admiring tone.

"There are some advantages to living with a Slytherin," Lupin said with a grin. "I think some of Professor Snape's deviousness is starting to rub off on me!"

Martin blushed a little and said, "Thank you, Professor. Thank you for everything! I'm really sorry about the way I treated you the other day."

"It's all right," Lupin said, patting him on the shoulder. "You may not be able to see Brian before the wedding, but why don't you write to him? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you." He handed the creased and wrinkled envelope back to Martin.

"Thank you, sir, I'll do that."

"You'd better run along, then, and finish your detention," Lupin.

"Yes, sir," Martin said, and left the room looking surprisingly happy for someone who was heading to detention.

"That went very well," Lupin said to Kiseki, who squeaked and stared hopefully at the plate of cookies. He fed the rat another piece of cookie and sighed, "I suppose it would be too much to hope for that my talk with Aric will go as well..."

*** 

Dylan was not as happy about his detention, but it wasn't quite as bad as he thought it would be. He arrived at Hagrid's hut with Crabbe and Goyle, and found Hagrid and Luna Lovegood waiting for them.

"Did you get detention, too?" he asked Luna.

"No," she said with a cheerful smile. "I like the Thestrals, so I volunteered to help."

"Hey, us too!" Crabbe said, and Goyle nodded enthusiastically. Dylan gave the three of them a disgusted look, but they didn't seem to notice.

"Well, come on," Hagrid said. "They're out back." Behind the hut were a full-grown Thestral and what appeared to be a half-grown colt--or whatever it was that baby Thestrals were called. The young Thestral had a bandaged hind leg, and there were several long scratches across its flank. "This is Thalia," Hagrid said, patting the larger Thestral, "an' this is her son Diablo. He wandered away from his mama an' got lost in the forest. He seems ter have run afoul of some beast; not sure exactly what. Thalia won't leave him alone till he's healed, so she can't hunt for food, so we've got ter feed 'em, an' we've got ter tend ter his wounds." He went back into the hut and brought out a large bucket filled with chunks of meat and told the students to feed the Thestrals.

"They like blood," Luna informed her companions.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Dylan grumbled. "You know, Professor Snape will be very upset if I get eaten by a Thestral."

"The Thestrals would rather have a good chunk of beef than a stringy thing like you, Rosier," Hagrid told him, looking amused.

"That's so reassuring," Dylan muttered. He glanced at his much bulkier housemates and hoped that the Thestrals didn't decide that Crabbe and Goyle looked tasty. Luna was already feeding Thalia without being harmed, so Dylan shrugged, grabbed a chunk of meat and offered it to Diablo. The young Thestral sniffed at it, then eagerly snatched it from his hand and gulped it down. It sniffed at his hands and began licking the blood off them, and Dylan yelped in surprise, jerking his hands back.

"It's all right," Luna assured him. "They won't hurt you."

Dylan noticed that Thalia was now licking Crabbe's bloody hands, and Crabbe was laughing, "That tickles!" The Thestral made no move to bite him despite her sharp fangs, so Dylan supposed that Luna was probably right. Still, he stepped aside to let Goyle feed Diablo, and went to get another piece of meat; he didn't want the Thestral to mistake his hand for a piece of beef if it got too hungry.

"Now that you've made friends with 'em, they'll let you tend Diablo's wounds," Hagrid said after all the meat was gone. Dylan had to admit that the Thestrals seemed tame enough; they hadn't tried to bite, and were at present letting Luna, Crabbe, and Goyle pet them and scratch them behind the ears. They changed the bandages on Diablo's leg and applied healing salve to his wounds.

"He should be better in about a week," Hagrid said, patting Diablo. "Good work, all of yeh." He said to Luna, Crabbe, and Goyle, "Five points ter Ravenclaw and ten ter Slytherin. I can't give yeh points, Dylan, since yeh're servin' detention, but yeh did good, too."

"Thanks," Dylan said. It was the first time Hagrid had ever given him a compliment. He still didn't particularly like the Care of Magical Creatures instructor, but he knew that Hermione did, so he supposed it was a good thing that Hagrid had finally decided that he wasn't really a Death Eater after all.

"Can we come back again tomorrow?" Goyle asked.

"Sure," Hagrid said, beaming at them. "I can always use the help."

They headed back to the castle, Crabbe, Goyle, and Luna all chattering together about how wonderful the Thestrals were. Dylan shook his head and muttered something about how they were all crazy, but the other three ignored him.

*** 

Meanwhile, Tristan Ames-Diggory sat in Snape's office, sullenly disemboweling horned toads. Snape sat at his desk grading assignments, trying to watch the boy out of the corner of his eye without being obvious about it. The boy looked a little like Cedric, but nothing at all like Lukas; he wondered if he was wrong about Bleddri being the Diggory heir. Of course, he had no idea what Cynric Diggory had looked like, although after hearing his mother's story, Snape could now recall seeing Anya Diggory at their house a few times when he was a child, but he had not taken much interest in his mother's gossip sessions with her friends at the time.

He had a vague recollection of a pretty dark-haired woman who always seemed to look a little worried--and no wonder, if she had been trying to keep her son's lycanthropy secret...assuming that Bleddri really was her son. Snape remembered Anya's brother Anwir Gravenor more clearly, since he had been a fellow Death Eater, but Lukas didn't resemble him much either, except perhaps for the high, aristocratic cheekbones, but that was hardly a trait exclusive to the Gravenor family. Well, since Lupin said Bleddri had made it clear that he had no interest in pursuing any contact with his hypothetical pureblood family, Snape supposed that it would just have to remain a mystery. Of course, getting Lady Selima to give up on it was an entirely different matter. Snape sighed; Lupin was right--he should never have brought it up in the first place.

The clock chimed and Snape looked up; an hour had passed. "You may go now, Mr. Ames-Diggory," Snape said. "I trust you will be more careful of your behavior in the future."

"Yes, sir," the boy said sullenly. He washed the blood and slime off his hands, then opened the office door and stepped out into the hallway. He had left the door ajar, and Snape was about to shout at him to close it, but he saw a couple of older Hufflepuff boys, both members of the Quidditch team, waiting outside.

"Finally, Tristan!" Zacharias Smith said impatiently. "Try to avoid getting detention from now on, will you? It plays havoc with the practice schedule!"

"Aw, give him a break, Zac," said the other boy, Kevin Whitby. "You know how Snape is..." He glanced at the office, then fell silent when he saw Snape looking at them. "Anyway," he said hastily, "come on, let's get to the Pitch!"

"One moment!" Snape said, rising from his seat and walking over to the door. "Why does Mr. Ames-Diggory need to accompany you to the Quidditch Pitch?"

"H-he's been made our new Seeker, sir," Whitby stammered nervously.

"What?!" Snape roared, and the boys all cringed. "But he's a first-year!"

"One of the other first-years lost control of his broom during flying lessons," Smith explained, "and Tristan flew after him to help. Madam Hooch was really impressed by his flying skills; she said he's a natural. Professor Sprout happened to be watching, and she and Madam Hooch had a talk, and well, Hufflepuff needed a new Seeker..."

"But he's a first year!" Snape repeated.

"Professor Sprout gave him special dispensation to join the team, sir," Smith said. "Besides, Potter became Seeker for Gryffindor when he was only a first-year--" That was obviously the wrong thing to say; Snape's pale face suddenly flushed with anger. "Um...please, sir," Smith said weakly. "We'll be late for practice. If there's a problem, perhaps you should discuss it with Professor Sprout."

"I certainly will!" Snape snapped. He slammed his office door shut and stalked off, presumably in search of Professor Sprout. The three Hufflepuff boys breathed sighs of relief, then began looking anxious again.

"I hope he doesn't get Tristan kicked off the team," Zacharias said.

"He can't!" Kevin said, but he looked worried, too. "They let Potter play as a first-year!"

"Yeah, but Potter is...well...special," Zacharias said reluctantly. 

"The Boy Who Lived," Tristan said, a little sarcastically.

"Yeah," said Zacharias, looking uncomfortable. "He's a decent sort, though, really; he doesn't lord it over anyone. Come on, let's go to practice. We'll let Sprout and Hooch handle Snape."

*** 

Most of the teachers were gossiping over tea in the staff room, and not surprisingly, the topic of conversation was Tristan Ames-Diggory.

"Most talented first-year I've seen since...well...since Potter," Hooch was saying.

"He takes after Cedric, then?" Flitwick asked.

"Oh, hello, Severus," Lupin said with a smile. "Tristan's detention is over, then?"

"Good," said Sprout. "Then he can get over to the Pitch and get some practice in. They'll need time to get him into shape." She set her cup down. "Maybe I'll head over to the Pitch and watch."

"It is against the rules for first-years to join the Quidditch team!" Snape said indignantly.

"I gave him permission as Head of House to join the team," Sprout said, frowning. "Or are we only allowed to bend the rules for Harry Potter?"

Now McGonagall was frowning as well. "There were special circumstances--"

"I have complained on numerous occasions about Mr. Potter being allowed to break the rules!" Snape interrupted. "If it had been up to me, he would have been expelled years ago--"

"Then we'd likely all be dead, Snape," Sprout snapped. "So it's a good thing it wasn't up to you, isn't it?"

Lukas had been sitting in the corner of the room, drinking his tea in silence but now he stood and slammed his cup down on the table with a loud clatter. "Quidditch! House Cup! You all argue about the most trivial things, and it's beginning to give me a headache! I thought we here to teach the students, not play games! I've only been here for three days, and sometimes it seems as if who wins the Quidditch Cup or the House Cup is more important than the lessons they're supposed to be learning!"

Dumbledore chuckled as he walked into the room. He patted Lukas on the shoulder and said, "You sound like a true teacher already, my boy! And here you were concerned that you weren't up to the job!"

"I haven't been a boy for quite some time, Headmaster!" Lukas snapped, but Dumbledore didn't appear to be offended.

"I apologize, Master Bleddri," he said with a smile. "No disrespect was intended." Lukas just growled irritably.

"Well, maybe we do get a bit carried away sometimes," Flitwick said with a sheepish grin. "But the students need a little fun interspersed with their studies; a sort of valve to let off steam, if you will. It's good for morale and promotes school spirit."

"If you say so," Lukas said dubiously. "Isn't it part of the reason why the Gryffindors and Slytherins have been at each other's throats all these years?"

"It exacerbated the situation," Dumbledore said, "but it didn't create it. The rivalry and the antipathy go back to the time of the Founders and the argument between Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin that caused Slytherin to leave Hogwarts."

"If we could get back to discussing Mr. Ames-Diggory," Sprout said impatiently. "Surely, Albus, you can't forbid Tristan to join the team when Minerva was allowed to bend the rules for Mr. Potter."

"You see what your indulgence of the boy has led to?" Snape told Dumbledore. "Now all the students think that they can flout the rules! What's the point in having rules if no one's going to follow them?"

"I too have concerns about Tristan being allowed to join the team," Lupin said quietly.

"Of course you'd take his side," Sprout said accusingly.

Lupin shook his head. "My concerns are different from Severus's. I am worried about the pressure that is being placed on the shoulders of so young a boy. He is Cedric Diggory's cousin--"

"And he has his cousin's talent," Sprout said proudly.

"And filling the shoes of a dead hero is not an easy task," Lupin said gently. "He'll be under a great deal of pressure to live up to Cedric's reputation. I worry that he might not hold up under the strain of it. I worry about the disappointment he'll feel if he fails."

Professor Sprout and the other teachers began to look uneasy. "I never thought of it that way," she admitted. "But...he was so proud and happy when I placed him on the team. Won't he feel like he's failed if I remove him?"

"You can always blame it on me," Snape said with a wry smile. "All the students hate me, anyway."

"That's not true, Severus," Lupin said tenderly.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape growled, blushing a little.

Flitwick shook his head and muttered under his breath, "I don't know what those two see in each other."

"Professor Lupin has a valid point," Hooch said. "But Mr. Ames-Diggory truly is a talented player. It's clear that he's already practiced flying and Quidditch at home. There's no doubt in my mind that he has the ability to play on the team. Whether he can handle the emotional pressures..." She shrugged. "That's not really my area of expertise. But he does show great desire and enthusiasm for the sport. I'm sure he looked up to his cousin, but I don't think he's doing this just because of Cedric; he seems to take an honest pleasure in flying. If it were up to me, I would allow him to play."

"Every first-year would play if we let them," Snape grumbled. "What's so special about this one? Aren't there any older students who could be Seeker?"

"Our last Seeker, Summerby, just graduated," Sprout said. "And to be honest, the team just hasn't been the same without Cedric. We haven't found anyone who could match his talent--until now. My Hufflepuffs are all very protective and solicitous of Tristan. I think they'll look after him, and I don't think they'll place undue pressure on him."

"They're already placing pressure on him if they're giving him special treatment because he's related to Cedric," Snape pointed out.

"Perhaps you're just afraid we'll beat Slytherin this year," Sprout snapped.

"Hah!" Snape snorted. "If that's what I was concerned about, I'd be thrilled that an inexperienced, untried first-year was being allowed to join the team!"

"If we want the students to end their inter-House rivalries, you will need to set a good example for them as their Heads of House," Dumbledore said sternly, and Sprout and Snape subsided. "As for Tristan, I'll allow Professor Sprout to decide whether he is ready to join the Quidditch team or not."

"I think he is," she said, after giving it some thought. "But I will watch him closely to see that the pressure is not getting to be too much for him."

Snape and Lupin left the staff room together and headed for their quarters. "I still think that Diggory boy is going to be trouble," Snape complained.

"I hope not," Lupin said, "but we'll have to watch over him. And speaking of the Diggorys...have you had a chance to contact your mother yet?"

"I contacted her by mirror earlier today," Snape said. "I asked her not to say anything about what we discussed last night."

"And she agreed?" Lupin asked.

"Well, sort of," Snape said uncomfortably. "I implied that I was still investigating the matter, and that the Diggorys might try to cover things up if word got out about it..."

Lupin smiled and shook his head. "That will do for now, but you can't stall her forever, Severus."

"How was I to know that Anya Diggory was her friend?" Snape grumbled. "Or that the Diggorys might be involved in a secret murder conspiracy?"

"That may be a problem," Lupin said. "If Selima is determined to get justice for her friend, she won't just let the matter drop. I thought you said that your mother wasn't the sentimental type."

"She's not," Snape said. "But she has a certain sense of honor, even if I don't always agree with it. Mind you, that sense of honor is tempered with expediency. You'll recall that she once told us that she suspected that Lucius Malfoy killed his father and his mother, who was also her friend, but you'll note that she never tried to take revenge on him, no doubt because she knew it would have been suicidal to take on someone as powerful and influential as he was. Friendship only goes so far among the Slytherin purebloods, Lupin; self-preservation is always foremost in their minds."

"So what are we going to do about your mother?"

Snape sighed. "I don't know. I'll put her off as long as I can, then perhaps we can come up with something to distract her."

Lupin grinned. "Maybe we could arrange for Rita Skeeter to write a juicy article about us; nothing like a good scandal to take your mother's mind off of things."

Snape groaned, "Please, Lupin, only as a last resort!"

*** 

That same afternoon, Allegra went to the library with Chloe and Emma, and found Portia browsing through the section on Potions. "Hi, Portia," she said cheerfully. "Are you doing the research for Professor Snape's homework assignment?"

"Why else would I be in the Potions section?" Portia replied curtly. 

Emma and Chloe frowned, but Allegra just smiled and cheerfully said, "So are me and Chloe and Emma. Why don't you come study with us?"

"You and I should not be hanging around together," Portia told her firmly.

"Why not?" Allegra asked, looking puzzled.

Portia sighed impatiently. "Because you're a Slytherin--"

"I'm a Gryffindor!" Allegra protested.

"Because your family are Slytherins," Portia corrected herself, "and because my stupid uncle was a traitor and a Death Eater, it wouldn't be a good idea for us to be friends. People already look at us suspiciously as it is; if we hang around together, people will be convinced that we're secretly conspiring to be Death Eaters or something."

"That's dumb!" Allegra protested. "My family lost our fortune because we _wouldn't_ ally with the Death Eaters!"

"Really?" asked Portia, looking surprised. "Well, it doesn't matter if it's true or not. People still think all Slytherins are Dark Wizards, and everyone in Gryffindor seems to think I'm one just because my uncle was." She sniffled a little. "I never even knew him, and he's making my life miserable! I wish he'd stayed dead instead of coming back and showing everyone what a rotten person he really was!"

Emma began to regard Portia with more sympathy. "You're wrong, you know," she said gently. "About everyone thinking that Slytherins are Dark Wizards. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown are the most popular girls in the school, and they're good friends with those two Slytherin girls, Pansy and Millicent. And my brothers have gotten to be friendly with some of the Slytherins, too. And people like Allegra--I mean, a few of the Gryffindors have made nasty comments about Slytherins when she's around, but she's friends with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and the Weasleys." Emma's voice filled with awe. "And they're heroes of the war! Harry killed You-Know-Who and saved the wizarding world!"

"He's really nice," Allegra said happily. "He shared a Chocolate Frog with me on the train ride to Hogwarts." She giggled. "And Hermione's boyfriend is Dylan Rosier, and he's a Slytherin. So Slytherins and Gryffindors can get along. And Dylan's father was a Death Eater, and people still like Dylan, so I don't think they hold it against him."

"Uncle Peter was even worse than a regular Death Eater," Portia said glumly, "because he was a traitor. He betrayed his best friends to You-Know-Who."

"Well, it's not your fault," Emma said kindly. "You weren't even born when that happened."

Chloe bit her lip, looking thoughtful; she seemed a little more wary of Portia than Emma and Allegra did. But finally she said, "My father says that we need to keep an open mind about things. When he found out Professor Lupin was a werewolf, he was really surprised, but he said it didn't matter to him, that he still thought of him as a friend. He said it's important to get to know someone before you judge them."

"So can't we be friends?" Allegra asked earnestly. "Will you come study with us?"

Portia hesitated; she still thought that it wouldn't do either of their reputations any good, but on the other hand, it wasn't like she had any friends to lose. Even if Allegra, Emma, and Chloe were the only friends she made at Hogwarts, that was still three more than she had right now. "Okay," she said shyly. 

They took their books to a table and started working on their homework. "So your dad is a friend of Professor Lupin's?" Allegra asked Chloe curiously.

Chloe nodded. "Dad was a year ahead of Professor Lupin in school, so they were friendly, but they weren't real close. They didn't see each other much after graduation, but they kept in touch, sending each other letters and Christmas cards, and they got together for lunch every now and then. Dad was a little worried that Professor Lupin seemed to be...well...down on his luck before he got the job at Hogwarts, but Dad was just as broke, so there was nothing he could really do to help. But then after Sirius Black escaped and the Professor was exposed as a werewolf, Dad wrote to Lupin to let him know that he still had at least one friend. Lupin wrote back later that summer, and he happened to mention a few Muggle devices that a friend had given him; one of them was a compact disc player. And that gave Dad the idea for his magical music boxes."

The other three girls' eyes widened. "Your dad invented those?" Portia exclaimed.

Chloe nodded, looking proud. "Yes. Professor Lupin gave him the idea, so he gave Lupin the prototype music box that he built. He tried to give Lupin some of the money he earned, but the Professor refused to take it. Dad felt kind of bad, because he might never have invented the music boxes if it wasn't for Lupin, so when Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley were looking for sponsors for the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program, he was happy to sign up, because he felt like he could kind of pay Professor Lupin back that way."

"Wow, that's neat!" Allegra said. "Professor Lupin never said that he helped come up with the idea for the music boxes!"

"Dad says that he's modest to a fault," Chloe said.

"I've always wanted one," Allegra sighed wistfully, "but Mummy says they're too expensive."

Chloe smiled. "I'm sure my dad could give you a discount."

"Really?" Allegra asked, her face lighting up. "Thanks! I'll save up my allowance, or maybe I can ask Mum and Dad to buy me one for Christmas."

"I...I have one," Portia said hesitantly. "You can borrow it anytime you like. It plays all the Weird Sisters songs."

"Really? I love the Weird Sisters! Thanks, Portia!"

Allegra beamed at Portia, and Emma and Chloe smiled as well, and Portia breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe being in Gryffindor wasn't going to be so bad, after all. She had begged the Sorting Hat not to put her into Gryffindor; she was sure that everyone there would hate her for the way her uncle had betrayed his House and his friends. "Gryffindors are supposed to be brave," she had argued. "And I'm not brave at all!"

"You are braver than you think," the Hat had insisted.

"What about my uncle?" Portia had argued. "You made a mistake putting him into Gryffindor, didn't you? He wasn't brave; he was a coward and a traitor!"

The Hat had fallen silent for a moment. "Being chosen for Gryffindor doesn't automatically make one good, just as being chosen for Slytherin doesn't automatically make one evil, child," it had finally said in an almost gentle voice. "All I am able to see is one's inner potential; it is up to the individual what they do with that potential. I did almost put Peter into another House, but he begged to be put into Gryffindor because two boys who had befriended him on the train and defended him from some older boys who were bullying him were also being Sorted into Gryffindor."

"Sirius Black and James Potter," Portia had whispered.

"Yes," the Hat had replied. 

"Please don't put me in Gryffindor," Portia had pleaded. "Everyone there will hate me!"

"Some of them will," the Hat had said calmly. "But some of them will not. It won't be easy; you will have to earn their friendship and respect, but you are strong enough to do it."

Portia didn't believe that; she wasn't even strong enough to argue further with the Hat, who had taken silence for assent and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Ginny and Hermione had been kind to her, but many of the other children had given her suspicious or outright hostile looks; she had heard a few of them mutter "Death Eater" and "rat" when Ginny and Hermione weren't around. Harry Potter had been polite to her, but she had seen the worried look in his eyes, as if he were wondering if she was going to turn out like her uncle. 

But for the first time, as she talked and joked casually with the other three girls, Portia actually felt happy to be in Gryffindor House.

*** 

After dinner, Aric reported to Lupin's office. "Hello, Aric," Lupin said brightly. "Please have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Excuse me?" Aric asked, wondering if he'd heard right.

"I said, would you like a cup of tea?" Lupin repeated. When Aric just stared at him, dumbfounded, he went ahead and poured out two cups. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Ah...two sugars, no milk, please," Aric said weakly, sinking into the chair in front of Lupin's desk. Lupin stirred in two sugar cubes and handed the cup of tea to Aric, who eyed it suspiciously, then took a sip. "Do you serve tea to all the students who serve detention with you?"

"Funny," Lupin said with a mischievous smile. "Dylan once asked me the same thing."

Aric supposed that meant "yes"; he wondered if the werewolf was altogether right in the head. After all, the word "lunacy" originated from the belief that insanity was related to the phases of the moon. Maybe the werewolf went a little loopy when the full moon was drawing near.

"Actually," Lupin continued, "this is not really your detention. I just wanted to have a little chat with you today."

"About what?" Aric asked with a scowl, although he could guess the answer.

"About you and Theo," Lupin replied quietly, taking a sip of his tea. "And Rafe." Aric went rigid in his seat, his entire body tensing up. "It isn't Theo's fault, you know," Lupin said gently.

"He was there!" Aric shouted, losing control of his temper. "He watched his father kill Rafe, and he didn't try to stop him!"

"What do you suggest that he have done?" Lupin asked in a reasonable tone of voice. "What would you have done in his place?"

"Well...I...I..." Aric stammered. "I'd have done something! Try to hex him, or maybe grab his arm to disrupt the spell--"

Lupin shook his head. "Then Thaddeus would have killed you. Do you really think that's what Rafe would want?"

"What the hell would you know about what Rafe would want?" Aric snarled.

"He was my friend," Lupin said quietly, taking another sip of tea as Aric stared at him in shock. "We were both Gryffindors, remember? Of course, Rafe was a few years younger than me, so I wasn't as close to him as I was to my best friends James and Sirius, but I liked him very much." He smiled nostalgically. "Just about everyone liked him, really; he had an irresistible sort of charm. He was one of the few people to ever become popular across House lines; the only people I've ever seen who came close to that kind of popularity are Dylan and his father, but their popularity was mainly among the female students. The girls adored Rafe, of course, but the boys also sought out his friendship. I know he was a kind person who never wished harm on anyone, and I know that he loved his family very much because he talked about them a great deal. I remember that your sister was born during my seventh year, because Rafe was so proud to be a new uncle that he was showing baby pictures to everyone in Gryffindor." Lupin took another sip of tea. "He was the Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I heard that a number of professional teams were interested in recruiting him after he graduated, but he decided to take a job at St. Mungo's instead."

Aric had heard those stories as a child, too, and he had once asked his uncle why he hadn't wanted to become a Quidditch star, which had seemed much more glamorous to Aric than working as a mediwizard. "He told me once that helping people was more important than chasing a ball around a field."

Lupin smiled. "That sounds like Rafe."

Aric didn't like to hear Lupin speaking of Rafe with affection; he didn't like to hear the werewolf--Theo's foster father and the lover of a former Death Eater--claiming friendship with his favorite uncle. He felt as if Lupin were somehow encroaching on his territory, trying to steal from Aric some of his precious memories of his uncle. He knew that these feelings weren't really logical, but that didn't stop him from resenting Lupin. "My father said Rafe was too soft," Aric snapped. "He says that's probably what got him killed."

Lupin's gentle face hardened a little. "You can blame Theo if you like, Aric, but your family also bears some responsibility for Rafe's death."

"What?!" Aric shouted indignantly. 

"Another thing I remember from school is Rafe talking about Marta's wedding to Thaddeus," Lupin said. "Rafe was worried about it because he didn't like Thaddeus and thought he hung around with a bad crowd. Rafe was upset that his parents seemed more concerned about the financial and political benefits they would reap from an alliance with the Nott family than they did about his sister's welfare." 

Lupin looked directly into Aric's eyes, that hard expression still on his face. "Your family knew that Thaddeus was abusing Marta and Theodore, didn't they? And they did nothing to stop it." Aric flushed and looked away, unable to meet Lupin's gaze, and felt angry at the werewolf for making him feel somehow guilty and ashamed. "Rafe stepped in to protect his sister and nephew because his family would not, and that is what got him killed. But if he had not had to confront Thaddeus alone--"

"It wasn't abuse!" Aric protested. "My grandfather says you Gryffindors are always soft on your children and don't know how to discipline them! If Theo hadn't gone whining to Rafe about--"

"Tell me something, Aric," Lupin interrupted in a quiet voice, "have your parents ever 'disciplined' you with a Cruciatus Curse?" When Aric fell silent and did not respond, Lupin said, "I thought not. You speak with the self-assurance of someone who has always been loved and protected by his family, Aric. Theo was not as fortunate."

Aric's hands clenched tightly around his tea cup. He did not want to feel sorry for Theo; he refused to feel sorry for Theo, damn it! But he felt uneasy as he remembered all the times he had seen Theo and Marta cringe when Thaddeus raised his voice or even simply cast a threatening glance their way. Thaddeus had never hexed or struck his wife and son in public, but sometimes he would let his hand subtly slide down and pat the pocket where he kept his wand, and Theo's eyes would always fill with terror. 

Aric had known, his parents and grandparents had known, that Thaddeus probably hexed Marta and Theo at home. But they had never spoken of it, because one did not interfere in another family's personal business, and Marta now belonged to the Nott family, not the Dietrich family, and besides, it was prudent not to pry too closely into the affairs of a former Death Eater. Rafe was probably the only one in the family who had not known, thanks to his Gryffindor idealism, but he had never liked Thaddeus, and had been growing increasingly suspicious of him over the years. He must finally have witnessed something, or Theodore had told him something that changed suspicion to certainty, for him to have directly confronted Thaddeus...

"Do you really think that your uncle would want the two nephews that he loved to hate each other?" Lupin asked quietly.

Aric's hands squeezed the tea cup so tightly that it shattered, spraying pottery shards and tea all over his lap and the floor around him.

"Aric!" Lupin cried, jumping to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Aric said gruffly, the pieces of the broken cup falling to the floor as he rose to his feet.

Lupin grasped his hands and lifted them up to examine them. "You're bleeding," he said, looking worried.

Aric jerked his hands away. "It's just a scratch."

"Well, report to the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at it."

"Fine," Aric growled, heading for the door.

"Oh, and report to my office Saturday morning at ten for your detention," Lupin called after him.

"What?" Aric asked indignantly. "I thought this was my detention!"

Lupin smiled, in that infuriatingly cheery manner that made Aric want to smack him. "No, as I told you earlier, this is not your detention. This is just a little chat between you and me."

"Then what is my detention?" Aric snapped.

"To volunteer for two hours at the charity clinic on Diagon Alley," Lupin replied.

"What?!" Aric exclaimed again, even more indignantly than before. "The one for werewolves?!"

"Well, if offers free or discounted health care to any wizard who could not otherwise afford it, but yes, it participates in the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program."

"I thought all detentions had to take place on the school grounds!" Aric protested.

"They usually do, but there is nothing in the rules strictly prohibiting it," Lupin said with a pleasant smile. "It is a little unusual, but I am sure I can persuade your Head of House to go along with it."

Aric clenched his fists, ignoring the pain of the cuts on his palms. "It's not volunteering if I'm being forced to do it," he said through gritted teeth.

"You're right," Lupin agreed, showing no sign of being offended. "I misspoke. Well, actually, I was just trying to be polite about it, but if you prefer, your detention is being forced to work at the charity clinic on Saturday for two hours."

"My parents will have your hide nailed to a wall if I get bitten by a werewolf," Aric snarled. 

"The whole point of the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program is to prevent werewolves from biting people," Lupin said mildly. "And the bite of a werewolf is not contagious while he or she is in human form. However, you might want to watch what you say to them, Aric; some of them have very short tempers. So try not to go out of your way to insult anyone, but just in case, Master Bleddri and I will be there to protect you."

"Master Bleddri is coming?" Aric asked, not quite sure how he felt about that. He did feel a sort of grudging respect for the Physical Defense teacher, even if he was a werewolf. 

"Yes," Lupin replied. "At least, I hope he will, once I ask him to." Aric gave Lupin a puzzled look, and Lupin said, "Well, run along now, and have Madam Pomfrey take care of those cuts."

*** 

"It's a stupid idea, Remus," Lukas grumbled. "That kid is going to mouth off to the wrong person, and then some poor werewolf is going to be sent to Azkaban for giving that pampered pureblood brat a well-deserved thrashing."

"That's why I want you along," Lupin said coaxingly. "The werewolves respect you, and Aric respects you as well, I think. Severus told me how you won him over with that fencing bout."

"I'm not sure I'd call it respect, exactly," Lukas said. "What is the point of this exercise, anyway?"

"I want him to get a look outside the very narrow and rigid world he's been raised in," Lupin explained. "I want to broaden his horizons a bit. And perhaps he might surprise himself and take some pleasure in helping other people."

"If that happens, no one will be more surprised than me," Lukas said cynically. "You're expecting a lot from a couple hours of detention, Lupin. I think Snape is right about your Gryffindor idealism."

"I don't expect him to change overnight," Lupin said patiently. "This is just a first step. So will you help me?"

Lukas sighed. "I can see you have your mind set on this, so I suppose I'll have to come along just to make sure no one gets killed."

"Thank you, Lukas," Lupin said, giving him a cheerful smile. "By the way, I meant to talk to you about Martin Parry earlier, but I didn't think I should discuss it in front of the other teachers."

Lupin repeated what Martin had told him, and Lukas clapped his hand to his forehead. "Damn it, I'm so stupid! Why didn't I see it before? No wonder he looked so familiar!"

"I didn't notice the resemblance, either," Lupin pointed out, "and Brian never told us that he had a nephew. At least, he never told me."

"He never talked about his family," Lukas said. "Most of my wolves don't like to talk about their past."

"I've noticed," Lupin said; the werewolf leader was certainly taciturn about his own past.

Lukas scowled, as if he could guess what Lupin was thinking. "Why open old wounds?" he growled.

"To allow them to heal properly," Lupin said quietly.

"We all have scars we have to live with, Remus," Lukas said, then changed the subject. "Brian's nephew, hmm? So he's decided that he doesn't hate us, after all?"

"He was just hurt and scared and confused," Lupin said. "But I think he's all right now." Lupin shook his head. "What a terrible thing his family did, to both him and to Brian. It was bad enough to blame Brian for being attacked and disown him, but to force Martin to carry around this secret, unable to tell anyone what was bothering him..."

Lukas smiled. "I notice it didn't take you long to get him to spill his secrets to you."

Lupin laughed gently. "He's a Gryffindor; we're not very good at keeping secrets. It was much harder to get the Slytherins to open up to me."

"You don't seem to have done too badly in that department, either," Lukas said with a grin. "Well, perhaps you will be able to win Mr. Dietrich over after all; Merlin knows stranger things have happened."

*** 

After talking to Lukas, Lupin headed back to his and Severus's dungeon quarters, and they spent a quiet hour doing nothing much but grading papers and simply enjoying being in each other's company. Lupin had just finished grading the last paper when he thought he heard noises coming from out in the hall. He got up and pressed his ear to the door, and heard his foster sons arguing in hushed voices.

"But what if they're...well...busy?" Theodore was saying. "I don't want to interrupt them if they're in the middle of something, if you know what I mean."

"It can't hurt to knock," Dylan said. "If they say they're busy, we go back to the dorm; no harm done."

"But--"

Lupin opened the door and the boys jumped in surprise. "Hello, Theo, Dylan," Lupin said with a cheerful smile. "Did you need something?"

The two of them smiled at him sheepishly; Lupin noticed that Theo was carrying the chess set Lupin had given them under one arm. Theodore stammered, "Well...um...you see..." Then he turned to Dylan and said, "This was your idea; you explain it."

Dylan grinned and obliged. "We've kind of gotten used to spending the evenings with you and Professor Snape--you know, playing chess or just reading and hanging out together. And, well...we kind of miss it. So we just thought that maybe if you weren't too busy..."

Snape appeared in the doorway behind Lupin. "What's going on, Lupin?" he asked, then looked concerned when he saw the boys. "Is everything all right?" he asked anxiously.

"Everything's fine, Severus," Lupin reassured him, a huge smile spreading across his face although he had to blink back a few tears. In truth, he also missed their evening "family time" even though school had just started, and he was deeply moved to find out that it seemed to mean just as much to the boys. "Dylan and Theo just thought they would come over and spend some time with us, maybe have a game of chess?"

Snape relaxed and gave them a startled smile in a rare unguarded moment. Well, less rare these days, Lupin supposed, but he still liked to keep up the appearance of the bad-tempered Potions Master even at home, although they all knew it was a sham. Lupin kissed him on the cheek, and true to form, Snape said, "Cut that out, Lupin," in a tone of voice that said he didn't really mean it. "Have you two finished your homework?" he asked sternly.

"Yes, sir," Theodore said.

"Of course, sir," Dylan said with a grin.

So Theodore and Snape wound up playing a game of chess with Dylan cheering on and offering advice to Theo while Lupin did the same for Snape--although Snape didn't seem to find his advice very helpful.

"Why don't you move the horsie over there, Severus?" Lupin asked in a bright, chirpy voice.

"Because if I moved the 'horsie' there, it would open my queen up to attack," Snape said sourly. "And you know damn well that it's called a 'knight' not a 'horsie'. Why don't you go help Theodore?"

"But three against one wouldn't be fair," Lupin protested. 

"It would be eminently fair," Snape replied, "because you're more of a handicap than an asset, and you and Dylan would pretty much cancel each other out."

Lupin just laughed. "But you have the advantage of your years of experience as a devious Slytherin and former Death Eater."

"Mr. No...I mean, Theodore has proven that he can hold his own against me," Snape pointed out. "He's beaten me before without any help." Then he gave his lover a suspicious look. "Are you trying to help Theodore win by deliberately giving me bad advice?"

"Who me?" Lupin asked, with his very best look of wide-eyed innocence. Snape snorted derisively.

They played for about an hour, then Snape looked up at the clock and said, "It's getting late, and we all have class tomorrow; you two had better head back to the dorm and get some sleep." There were still a number of pieces left on the board, and neither side was close to a checkmate yet, because they had spent more time laughing and talking than they had concentrating on the game. "Why don't you leave the chess set here, and we'll finish up tomorrow night?" Snape suggested.

Dylan and Theodore grinned at each other, since that would obviously give them an excuse to come back the next night. "Yes, sir," they chorused happily.

"Off to bed with you, then," Snape said, making a shooing gesture with his hand, and the boys left. 

As soon as they were gone, Lupin flung his arms around Snape and said fiercely, "I love you so much, Severus!"

For a moment Snape looked startled, then he grinned and said, "I love you, too, Remus, even if you are an annoying little Gryffindor werewolf." Lupin pressed his face against Snape's chest and sniffled a little. "Remus, are you crying?" Snape asked in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lupin said, his voice muffled since his face was still pressed close against Snape's chest. "It's just...I'm so happy. I have everything I ever wanted...you, most of all, and of course the boys...I never dreamed I'd be able to have a family of my own, and now I do...every now and then I get hit by the full impact of how incredibly lucky I am."

"Silly werewolf," Snape said tenderly, cradling Lupin's face between his hands and lifting it up so that he could gently kiss away Lupin's tears. Lupin shivered a little as he felt the soft pressure of Severus's lips against his face, and then the warm wetness of his tongue as it darted out to lap up the tears.

"You know," Lupin said in a husky voice, "one good thing about being back at school is that we don't have to worry about the boys walking in on us unexpectedly."

"That's right," Snape said, with a sly grin that made Lupin shiver again. "Then shall we have wild, passionate sex right here on the couch? No, wait, we don't want to knock over the chess set..."

Lupin laughed and rose to his feet, grabbing Snape's hands and pulling his lover up with him. "Then let's continue this in the bedroom, as conventional as that may be."

Snape followed willingly enough. "Ah well, the couch isn't really that comfortable, anyway..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise worries about how Theo's adoption will affect their relationship; tryouts are held for the Slytherin Quidditch team; Aric serves his detention at the werewolf clinic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of "para-elementals" comes from the Dungeons and Dragons game.

Lukas's first Interspecies Relations class was with the seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. It was being held in a normal classroom with desks and chairs, not the Physical Defense room, and the students were regarding him with respect and curiosity, not hostility (except for Aric, who looked sullen as always), but Lukas felt very uncomfortable. The Physical Defense classes weren't so bad; at least he had plenty of experience with fighting, but he had none in teaching. He didn't even have the benefit of having attended classes as a student, since he had been tutored at home by his parents; he was going to have to wing it.

He felt rather silly seated behind the teacher's desk at the head of the room, like a child playing at being a grown-up, or an impostor who was expecting his charade to be discovered at any moment, and besides, it created a barrier between himself and the students. So he came around front and sat on the edge of his desk, facing the class; rather unprofessional, he supposed, but it made him feel more comfortable.

"Well," he finally said, "this is the first time this class is being taught, so it will be a new experience for all of us. I believe you all know that I am a werewolf..." He paused and the students nodded. "Which is, no doubt, one of the reasons why the Headmaster hired me. So why don't we start by clearing up any misconceptions you might have about werewolves? I know you have studied werewolves in your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, but some of the texts you have read are, shall we say, somewhat biased at best." Crabbe immediately raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Crabbe?"

"Is it true, sir, that lycanthropy can be inherited instead of being passed through a bite?"

"Who told you that?" Lukas asked sharply.

"Professor Lupin did, sir," Crabbe replied. "Well, actually he told his fifth-year class that last year, and they told us."

"Why am I not surprised?" Lukas muttered under his breath. In a normal voice he said, "Yes, it is true that lycanthropy can be inherited, but it is very rare." Hermione raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"If someone contracts lycanthropy through a bite, can the disease be passed down to their children?"

"There has not been a great deal of research done on the subject," Lukas said with a twisted, mirthless smile, "because inherited lycanthropy is the wizarding world's dirty little secret. No one wants to admit that it exists, for fear of being disgraced if it becomes known that there might be a few werewolf ancestors in the family tree. But there is only one recorded case that I know of where bite-induced lycanthropy was passed on to a descendant. A young woman was bitten while pregnant, and it seems that the change also affected the baby in her womb." The class visibly shuddered, and Lukas couldn't really blame them. Most female werewolves took great pains not to become pregnant, because who knew what would happen to the fetus when they shifted form every month? 

"What...what happened to the woman and her baby?" Hermione hesitantly asked.

Lukas bluntly replied, "After the baby was born, it began exhibiting signs of lycanthropy at the full moon. The woman's family called them both monsters and threw them out of the house, and the woman killed herself and her child in despair." A stunned silence fell over the room, and Lukas said bitterly, "Most stories involving werewolves do not have happy endings." 

Goyle raised his hand, and Lukas nodded at him. "Did you inherit your lycanthropy or did you get bitten by a werewolf?" Goyle asked.

Lukas's yellow-green eyes went wide with shock and anger, and he had stepped forward and bared his teeth in a snarl before he could stop himself. The students all went pale and cringed in their seats, especially Goyle. Lukas managed to get himself under control, and he said in a voice taut with suppressed rage, "You need to understand that not all werewolves are as forthcoming and easy-going as Professor Lupin." They still looked very frightened, and Lukas took several deep breaths and reminded himself that they were just children and didn't know any better--gentle, kindhearted Remus being the only werewolf they had met up until now. In a calmer voice, he continued, "You should never ask a werewolf such a thing; most of us dislike talking about our lycanthropy with outsiders. For one thing, it stirs up painful memories, and for another, it can be dangerous to accuse someone of having inherited lycanthropy. It is an insult to their family, because it implies that the bloodline is tainted. The werewolf might take offense, which is dangerous enough, but their family might also take offense, and you know how protective the purebloods are of their reputations..." His eyes flickered over to the Slytherin side of the room, where the children squirmed in their seats, looking guilty and a little ashamed. "Duels have been fought and people have been killed over lesser insults."

"I...I'm sorry, Master Bleddri," Goyle said, still looking pale. "I didn't mean any offense, honest. I was just curious, that's all, and Professor Lupin never minded talking about that kind of thing..."

"Professor Lupin is a most unusual person," Lukas said with a wry smile. "He is possessed of more patience than I have ever known anyone to have, human or werewolf."

Hermione raised her hand. "Um...is it still okay for us to ask you questions about werewolves, Master Bleddri?" she asked. "We don't mean any offense, as Gregory said, but we don't know which questions might be offensive."

Lukas felt a little guilty now; he was supposed to be promoting better interspecies relations, not giving the students more reason to fear werewolves, and he had invited the question, after all, by offering to clear up their misconceptions about werewolves. He sighed; Dumbledore really should have given this job to Lupin. Then he almost smiled at the irony of it all: most people had an almost pathological fear of werewolves, but Remus had charmed these children so much that they had swung in the opposite direction and didn't regard werewolves with as much caution as they should. "I should not have lost my temper," he admitted, "but Mr. Goyle took me by surprise. I didn't know that Remus had discussed that subject with you; it's regarded as taboo among both the werewolf and wizarding communities."

"Then that's the kind of thing we need to know," Hermione said earnestly. "So that we don't offend any werewolves that we might meet in the future."

"It's not like we know that many werewolves, Hermione," Ron pointed out. 

"But now that the equal rights bill has been passed, there probably will be more werewolves moving openly in the wizarding world," Hermione argued. "Isn't that partly why the Headmaster created this class?"

The girl had a point, Lukas had to admit; she seemed to be as clever as Lupin had claimed she was. "Miss Granger is correct. A few years ago, it would have been unthinkable for a werewolf to be permitted to work here as a teacher. You may ask me whatever questions you wish, and I will advise you if they are of an inflammatory nature." He paused, then hastily added, "General questions about werewolves, that is; I will not answer any questions about my personal life or how I contracted my lycanthropy, because that is none of your business." The students nodded meekly, then after a moment, Harry raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"During that battle with the Death Eaters," the boy said, giving him a nervous look, as if afraid of offending him again, "you and Professor Lupin and the other werewolves fought in wolf form when the moon wasn't full."

"Yeah, that's right!" Ron exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

"You're only wondering about that now, Weasley?" Draco asked in a patronizing voice.

Ron glared at him. "We had a few other things on our mind at the time, Malfoy."

"Settle down, you two!" Lukas snapped, and they subsided.

Theodore hesitated, then raised his hand, and Lukas called on him. "Re--I mean, Professor Lupin said that a werewolf can change if it perceives a great enough danger to itself or to someone it cares about."

Lukas nodded. "That is correct, Mr. Nott...excuse me, I mean Mr. Snape. With all the Death Eaters, Dementors, and giants on the battlefield, not to mention the Dark Lord himself, it didn't take much for us to transform. And being in wolf form did give us an advantage, because a transformed werewolf can heal wounds almost instantaneously."

"But I don't understand," Harry said. "How did you stay sane without the Wolfsbane Potion? What kept you from attacking your allies as well as your enemies?"

Lukas hesitated, not sure how much to tell them. Unlike Remus, he wasn't used to openly talking about his lycanthropy, and his first instinct was to keep all such knowledge secret. But on the other hand, that would defeat the purpose of this class, and it was the aura of secrecy surrounding lycanthropy that had led to all the fear and prejudice in the first place. 

"It's not common knowledge," he finally said, "since werewolves rarely transform outside of the full moon, but when the moon isn't full, the urge to bite and kill isn't as strong. It's also possible that regular use of the Wolfsbane Potion helped to keep us in control although we weren't actually taking it at the time. And a wolf's strongest instinct is loyalty to its pack, and our pack was being threatened by the Death Eaters. All our hostility, our desire to attack, was being focused solely on the Death Eaters. And...my pack and I have embraced our wolfish natures far more than most werewolves do. I cannot be sure, as no formal experiments have been conducted on it, but I think that the more one tries to fight the wolf, the more debilitating the change is every month. And the more one resists the wolf, the more violent it becomes when it finally emerges at the rise of the full moon. Conversely, the less one fights it, the easier the change is. Also, being in the presence of other wolves seems to have a calming effect on us; even when we didn't have access to the Wolfsbane Potion, spending the full moon together seemed to ease the madness of the change slightly. I think that may be why we were able to retain control of ourselves on the battlefield."

"Professor Lupin said that back in school when his Animagus friends stayed with him in their animal forms during his transformation, he was calmer and his mind was more human," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Professor Lupin said the same thing you did," Theodore told Lukas. "That when he stopped fighting the wolf, it made the transformation easier. That it was better to strike a balance between man and wolf than try to repress the wolf completely."

Crabbe raised his hand again and said in a deferential manner, "Um, I have a question, sir, but I'm not sure if you'd consider it personal..."

Lukas sighed. "You may ask, Mr. Crabbe, although I might not answer."

"I was just wondering...Professor Lupin's hair is gray, and he used to get really sick near the full moon before the Wolfsbane Potion was improved. Are you younger than he is, or is the transformation harder on him for some reason? Maybe because of that stuff you said about fighting the wolf?"

"You are perceptive, Mr. Crabbe," Lukas said, and the boy beamed at him proudly as the other children stared at him incredulously, except for Goyle, who grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, and Hermione, who smiled approvingly at him in an almost motherly--or perhaps big-sisterly?--fashion. "I came to accept my wolfish nature more readily than Professor Lupin did, and I think that is why the transformations did not affect me as badly." That was because Lupin was at heart a gentle person, while Lukas was by nature a predator--or at least he had learned to become one in order to survive after his parents died and he was turned out of his home and forced to fend for himself. But that fell under the category of "personal," and he had no intention of sharing that information with his class.

They spent the rest of the period discussing werewolves, and for the most part, the students asked intelligent and insightful questions. None of them were rude to him; in fact, they were downright respectful, and it wasn't a respect borne of fear--well, at least, not completely. Crabbe and Goyle were downright friendly, and seemed eager to win his approval, although he suspected that was due more to Lupin than anything he himself had done. He had the feeling that they really looked up to Remus, and because of that, were now inclined to like all werewolves. 

_And I thought the Gryffindors were supposed to be the naive ones,_ Lukas thought to himself in bemusement. Aric said nothing, but he diligently took notes throughout the class, perhaps for his essay on werewolves for DADA class. Lukas had heard about the extra assignment Lupin had given the boy after his sarcastic remark about lycanthropy; Aric was learning the hard way that Lupin wasn't quite as soft as he appeared to be. Lupin could be surprisingly devious for such an idealist; Snape must be rubbing off on him. 

The bell rang, and the children looked surprised and even a little disappointed to discover that class was over. Lukas assigned them some reading on Japanese shapeshifters for next week's class, saying, "While you're reading, I'd like you to keep in mind the different ways in which non-humans are regarded in the Japanese and British wizarding communities--we'll discuss this further next week. Class dismissed."

"Well, that wasn't really so bad," Lukas said to himself after the class had left. But he still thought that Remus had done far more for "interspecies relations" than any amount of formal lessons could accomplish, simply by being himself.

*** 

Snape set his seventh-year Advanced Potions class to work on the Burn-Healing Paste as he had promised on the first day of class. Perhaps because of the near-disaster with Neville and the Ashwinder eggs, Snape went over the instructions with them in more detail this time, although as far as Harry could tell, none of the ingredients seemed to be particularly dangerous.

"The main ingredients of the paste are lavender oil, hyssop and aloe leaves, nettles, and valerian roots. And what do all these ingredients have in common?" A number of hands went into the air. "Miss Granger."

"They're all ingredients in a number of healing potions and salves, sir."

"That should be obvious to anyone but a dunce by now," Snape said curtly, and his eyes flickered over to Harry, Ron, and Neville. Ron glared at him and Neville accepted the implied insult without any sign of resentment, but flushed a little with embarrassment; no doubt he too still remembered the accident he had almost caused--since Snape was hardly likely to let him forget it. As for Harry, he was too busy thinking to feel resentful, because he was still trying to figure how much of Snape's hatred was real and how much was feigned. While he was pondering this, Snape grudgingly added, "Still, I'll award a point to Gryffindor since the answer was correct." 

Hermione smiled, looking pleased, and kicked Ron in the shin when he opened his mouth to protest the miserliness of awarding a single point.

"And what are the properties of hyssop leaves, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, turning towards the Slytherin section of the room.

"Ingested, they can be used as an expectorant or a remedy for rheumatism," Draco promptly replied. "Externally, they can be applied as a poultice to treat bruises and wounds, and are an ingredient in many healing salves."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said approvingly, and Draco preened; Aric Dietrich gave him a disgusted look. "Five points to Slytherin." Now Ron was scowling at Snape. Oddly enough, Snape ignored him, and grinned wickedly as he addressed the class. "You might want to remember that, as Master Bleddri has informed me that he believes his students will be needing bruise remedies for his Physical Defense classes."

"I could have used some yesterday," Terry Boot muttered under his breath, wincing as he rubbed his arm.

"Those of you who have need of them may see Professor Sprout for more hyssop leaves," Snape said, without turning around, and Terry gave Snape a startled and nervous look. "Now who can tell me why nettles are used in healing potions?" Again, several hands went up in the air, and Snape nodded at Theodore. "Yes, Mr. Nott...I mean Mr. Sna..." Snape's voice trailed off mid-word; Harry had never seen the Potions Master look so flustered in class before, not even when Umbridge had been "observing" him back in fifth year. Apparently Snape was finding it a little odd to address his new son by his own last name, but he quickly pulled himself together, cleared his throat, and said, "Yes, Theodore?"

By now, Theodore was looking a little flustered as well, but he answered, "Nettles are a common ingredient in healing potions and potions in general because they increase the efficacy of the other herbs they're being mixed with."

"Very good, Theodore; five more points to Slytherin," Snape said, and Theodore smiled at him proudly. Harry noticed that Aric was glaring at his cousin, but for a change, the new Slytherin student said nothing. Come to think of it, he had not said a word in Interspecies Relations, either. Well, Aric had been cowed by Master Bleddri after the werewolf had defeated him during Physical Defense class, and perhaps he had finally learned that offending Snape could be dangerous, too. 

Harry mentally shrugged, deciding not to worry about Aric. The boy was obnoxious, but he was used to dealing with obnoxious Slytherins, thanks to Draco, and it seemed like a minor problem compared to worrying about being killed by Voldemort. He smiled to himself, thinking about how glad he was that the war was over and everyone was safe, and he was feeling so relieved and happy that he didn't see Snape notice his smile and give him a puzzled and suspicious look.

*** 

Dylan went to the library after dinner to meet Hermione. While he was waiting for her, he noticed a couple of young Ravenclaws studying together, and remembered that he'd wanted to find out if Corbin Talbott was his cousin. He approached the table and saw that the pair was Jun Chang and Gabrielle Delacour, but it wouldn't hurt to be friendly to the new first-years, and perhaps they could introduce him to Corbin.

"Hello," he said, giving them the charming smile that was second nature to him by now. "I'm Dylan Rosier."

"I know who you are," Jun said, looking impressed. "I've seen you play Quidditch--that match you won against Gryffindor last year was really spectacular!"

"Ah, you came to that match, then, even though Ravenclaw wasn't playing?"

Jun nodded. "Yeah, I figured either Gryffindor or Slytherin would be Ravenclaw's main opponent, and I wanted to see what my sister would be up against."

"Cho is a very good player," Dylan said, and Jun smiled proudly. "Do you play Quidditch, too?"

"Oh yes!" Jun replied eagerly. "I want to try out for the team next year!" He sighed enviously, "Tristan is so lucky, getting to play as a first-year!"

Dylan turned to Gabrielle, who smiled at him shyly. "Hi, I'm Gabrielle," she said.

"I know," Dylan replied, then said in French, "How could I have failed to recognize such a lovely young woman? I remember your sister from the Triwizard Tournament, and you are just as beautiful as she is."

Gabrielle giggled. "You can speak French!" she said delightedly.

"What did he say?" Jun asked curiously, and Gabrielle blushed.

"Nothing but the truth," Dylan declared. "That she is a very beautiful girl."

Jun grinned as Gabrielle's blush deepened. "My sister said you were a big flirt!" he said.

"I'm sure your sister must be mixing me up with my friend Damien," Dylan protested with mock-indignation, and Gabrielle giggled again.

"You _are_ a flirt!" she told him. "And I know you have a girlfriend, but thank you for the compliment." Then she added in French, "And it's nice to be able to speak French with someone besides my sister."

Dylan gave her a less flirtatious and more sincere smile. "Your English is excellent, but I'll be happy to speak French with you anytime you get homesick."

Just then, Corbin Talbott showed up. "Gabby, Jun!" he said sharply. "What are you doing talking to him?"

Dylan turned his charming smile on Corbin, but the younger boy just frowned. "Hello," he said politely. "Actually, I've been looking for you. My name is Dylan Rosier--"

"I know who you are," Corbin said curtly, and his two housemates frowned at him.

"My grandmother's maiden name was Elin Talbott," Dylan continued, "and I've been wanting to meet you, because I was wondering if we might be cousins."

"Elin Rosier was my grandaunt," Corbin said coldly, "and my father says it's your father's fault that she's dead."

"Corbin!" Gabrielle cried.

"My family doesn't want to be associated with a family of Death Eaters, so please leave me and my friends alone," Corbin said.

Dylan felt as if he'd been slapped in the face, although in hindsight he realized that he should have been prepared for this, considering how his mother's family had regarded him. But the Talbotts had mostly been Slytherins, so he had thought Corbin would be less hostile.

"But the Daily Prophet said he fought against the Death Eaters," Jun protested.

"You can't believe everything you read in the papers, Jun," Corbin said, still gazing at Dylan coldly. "Come on, let's go."

Jun hesitated for a moment, then got up to follow Corbin. Gabrielle frowned and said, "I can choose my own friends." To Dylan she said, "You can call me Gabby." She pointedly added, "All my friends do."

"Do as you please, then," Corbin said with a shrug. "But you're making a mistake." The two boys walked off.

"I'm sorry about that," Gabrielle apologized.

"It's okay," Dylan said, trying not to show how hurt he felt. "I'm used to it."

"Well, I think you're nice," Gabrielle declared. "Maybe they'll change their minds when they get to know you better." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek, then blushed and ran off.

"Flirting with other women, are you?" Hermione teased as she came up behind Dylan. Then she saw the expression on his face and asked in a concerned voice, "What's wrong, Dylan?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "I've just realized that some people will never see me as anything but a Death Eater, even my own family." He explained what had happened with Corbin. "Now I know how Professor Snape must have felt all these years."

"But now that the truth has come out--" Hermione said.

"People will believe what they want to believe," Dylan interrupted. "Some people probably think that the Professor and I really were Death Eaters, and we only switched sides to save our lives." 

"I'm sure Corbin will realize that isn't true once he gets to know you," Hermione said hopefully, although she didn't look fully convinced herself.

"It doesn't matter," Dylan lied. "I'm used to it. Everyone in my mother's family hated me, except for Math and Goewin, and Theo's family is even worse. The Notts didn't want anything to do with him after his parents died, because they were afraid people might think they were Death Eaters too, and the Dietriches blame him for his uncle's death. You've seen the way Aric treats him."

"Aric Dietrich is pretty awful," Hermione said, making a face that caused Dylan to laugh a little. "Even worse than Draco used to be! But he's been a lot more subdued since Professor Lupin gave him detention the other day."

"Hmm," Dylan said thoughtfully. Aric didn't seem like the type to be cowed by the threat of detention, and he wondered what the other boy was up to--he had no doubt that it was nothing good.

"But I think it does matter to you," Hermione continued, referring to his earlier statement. "I know it must hurt that your family rejected you; you don't have to pretend that it doesn't." She reached up to caress his cheek. "You don't have to worry about the Death Eaters finding out the truth anymore, Dylan. It's safe to just be yourself now."

Dylan suddenly found himself blinking back tears. "I...I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. It's just...I've been playing a role for so long, it's become automatic. I'm not really sure how to stop."

"It's all right, Dylan," Hermione said tenderly, and slipped her arms around his neck. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. They held each other tightly for what seemed like a long time but was probably just a few minutes, until they heard Madam Pince's sharp voice say:

"A library is for studying, Mr. Rosier! Carry on your little romantic trysts elsewhere, if you please!" The two of them jumped apart, Hermione blushing furiously, and Pince blinked in surprise. "Miss Granger! I didn't expect this sort of behavior from you!"

"It's not what you think," Hermione protested.

"Oh?" Pince said skeptically, raising her eyebrows.

Dylan figured that an explanation would probably be more trouble than it was worth. "I'm sorry, Madam Pince," he said respectfully, trying to look contrite. He noted, with bitter amusement, how easy it was to slip into the role of the obedient student. "It was my fault. It won't happen again, I promise."

Madam Pince gave him a suspicious look, then much to his surprise, she smiled a little. "Well, you have been a model student for the most part," she conceded. "Though I can't tell you how many times I caught your father carrying on with some girl in the stacks. Very well, I'll let it go this once, but next time it will be points off your Houses, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said.

"Yes, ma'am," Dylan echoed. "There won't be a next time, I promise."

"I certainly hope not. Run along, then." 

As they hurried off, Hermione giggled and whispered to Dylan, "You've even charmed Madam Pince!"

"No, I think it was my father," Dylan said with a grin, his bad mood suddenly lifted. "She almost looked nostalgic for a moment when she mentioned him."

"Professor Lupin said he was very charming," Hermione said. "I wish I could have met him."

"Me too," Dylan said softly, although his Death Eater father would almost certainly have objected to his son having a Muggle-born girlfriend. Then again, if Evan Rosier had gotten to know Hermione, maybe he would have changed his attitude towards the Muggle-born; at least, Dylan liked to think so. 

Hermione slipped her hand into his and gently squeezed it; maybe his acting skills had deteriorated after all, since she seemed to understand what he was thinking, or maybe it was because she knew him so well--although, to his shame, he realized that she had not known the real him until this summer. 

"He was your father, so I can't think of him as a completely bad person," Hermione said softly. "He was a Death Eater, but Voldemort misled a lot of people. That doesn't excuse what he did, of course, but your mother loved him, and Professor Blackmore and Professor Lupin liked him, so there must have been some good in him. If he had lived, maybe he would have changed...Professor Snape did, and so did Narcissa Malfoy and Delia Avery."

Dylan found his eyes filling with tears again, and he smiled at her gratefully. After carefully looking around to make sure Madam Pince was nowhere in sight, he stole a quick kiss from Hermione, who blushed again. Then they found a table and began studying, with no more "carrying on," as Madam Pince would have put it.

Because they were so wrapped up in each other, and because they had fled so quickly after Madam Pince's scolding, they had not noticed two Hufflepuff girls, Susan Bones and Isabelle Laroque, observing the whole incident between Dylan and the Ravenclaws. "Dylan Rosier," Isabelle said, staring at his departing form with a cool, appraising look. "What is he like?"

"Well," Susan said hesitantly, "he seems okay. He's very popular; all the girls like him because he's so handsome and charming, but..."

"But?"

"But his father was a Death Eater," Susan finished. "I mean, I guess he's okay, because Dumbledore said he fought on our side during the final battle. He said Professor Snape is a hero, too. It's kind of weird because everyone thought Snape was a Death Eater, but he was spying on them all along, according to the Headmaster. It's still kind of hard to believe, but I guess it's true; I don't think Professor Lupin would have fallen in love with him if he really was a Death Eater." She blushed a little at the thought.

"You must think a lot of Professor Lupin," Isabelle said.

"Of course!" Susan said enthusiastically. "He's the best Defense teacher we've ever had! He's very nice, and he makes his lessons interesting--don't you think so?"

Isabelle just smiled and nodded in a noncommittal manner. "Your family was killed by Death Eaters during the first war," she said suddenly.

"Ah...yes," Susan replied, startled by the abrupt change in subject. "My uncle and his family."

"So were my uncles," Isabelle said.

"I know," Susan said sympathetically. "I mean, I've heard about them because they were members of the Order of the Phoenix like my Uncle Edgar. Is that why you've been living in France all these years?"

"Yes," Isabelle replied. "My mother was afraid the Death Eaters would come after her next. But she missed her home, so that's why we came back now that the war is over."

"I hope you like it here at Hogwarts," Susan said with a friendly smile.

"I'm sure I will," Isabelle replied. "I hope you and I can be friends."

"Of course!" Susan said warmly. She admired Isabelle, who seemed so pretty and poised, and had an enchanting French accent. The boys seemed to admire Isabelle, too, but since her boyfriend Dean wasn't one of the boys drooling over the new exchange student, that didn't bother Susan. And it would be nice to have a friend who had shared a similar experience, who could understand what it was like to have lost family members to the Death Eaters. She still remembered what it had been like, when the Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban during fifth year, including the one who had killed her uncle and his family, and the other students had whispered behind her back, staring at her pityingly, or worse, with a kind of gruesome curiosity.

She followed Isabelle, who headed after the trio of first-year Ravenclaws, and found them arguing quietly with each other between the stacks.

"Excuse me," Isabelle said. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear what you said earlier."

"Are you a fan of Dylan Rosier's, too?" Corbin snapped.

"No, I don't even know him," Isabelle replied calmly. She introduced herself and Susan, then placed a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder and said in French, "I just wanted to let you know that if you ever want someone to converse with in French, you may come see me, too. My mother is British, but France has been my home for the past fifteen years, and sometimes I get a little homesick, too."

"Thank you, Isabelle!" Gabrielle said, looking flattered and grateful.

"That's very nice of you," Susan told Isabelle on the way back to the Hufflepuff dorm, once Isabelle explained what she had told the Ravenclaw girl.

"It will be nice to have a friend from my homeland," Isabelle said. "She is helping me as much as I am helping her. But please, tell me more about yourself. I heard that you were something of a heroine yourself, that you were involved in the final battle."

"Oh, not really, we just helped out in the field hospital," Susan protested modestly, blushing a little, but she felt very pleased.

"We?" Isabelle asked.

"The members of Dumbledore's Army. Oh, I guess you don't know about that. It's sort of a club we started, to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts back in fifth year."

"It sounds fascinating. Please tell me all about it..."

*** 

Snape heard a knock on the door of his workroom, and he called out, "Come in." He looked up and saw his son enter the room. "Ah, Theodore!" he said, surprised but happy to see the boy. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if there was something I could do for you," Theodore replied. "I stopped by your quarters--we were supposed to continue the chess game, remember?"

"Yes, that's right," Snape said. "I need to finish this potion first, though; I wasn't expecting you this early."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said. "Remus told me you were working on that potion for your father. Can I do anything to help?"

Snape hesitated; the potion called for very specific amounts of certain poisonous ingredients--not the sort of thing he'd normally turn over to a student, but he didn't want to hurt Theodore's feelings by implying that he didn't trust him. "Not with this potion," Snape replied. "But the full moon is coming up soon, and Lupin will need to start taking the Wolfsbane Potion tomorrow. It would be a great help to me if you could get a batch started."

"You trust me to work on it by myself?" Theodore exclaimed, looking very proud but also a little intimidated.

"Yes," Snape said, although he felt a brief moment of uncertainty, which quickly passed when he realized how often Theodore had worked on the potion over the past several months. "You've brewed it in class last term and at home under my supervision this summer; I think you should be familiar with the process by now. You're a very competent student, and I'll be right here if you have any questions. Besides, since the potion is for Remus, I know you'll take great care in preparing it."

"Yes, sir!" Theodore said, his eyes shining with pride and happiness. "I'll be very careful; I won't let you down, I promise!"

Snape smiled, still feeling touched and a little bemused by the fact that a few words of praise from him could affect the boy so deeply. "Very well, then; get to work, Mr. No...ah..." He hesitated, then finished awkwardly, "...Mr. Snape." It felt very strange to be addressing someone else by that name, but it was worth the effort when Theodore rewarded him with a warm smile.

"Yes, sir!" he said, and immediately got to work filling a cauldron with water.

"Actually," Snape said as something occurred to him, "you'd better make double the normal batch. I almost forgot that Master Bleddri will be needing the potion as well."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said. He added more water, set the cauldron over the fire to boil, then began grinding dried aconite leaves to a powder with a mortar and pestle.

"Where is Mr. Rosier?" Snape asked.

"Oh, he had a study date with Granger," Theodore replied. "He said he'd stop by afterwards."

Snape sighed a little as he stirred his potion; why couldn't the boy have fallen in love with a nice Slytherin girl...Miss Avery, for example? He tried to console himself with the fact that at least Granger was an intelligent girl and a good Potions student; he supposed things could be worse--at least she wasn't an incompetent like Potter or Weasley or Longbottom. 

"I thought you just sent a batch of the Pain's Ease Potion to your mother yesterday morning," Theodore said curiously. "I didn't think you'd need to make another batch so soon."

"The potion doesn't keep well," Snape explained. "It begins to lose its efficacy if it's stored for more than a couple of days, so it's better to brew it up fresh."

"I see," Theodore said. "Well, if you need any help, please let us know. I know you probably want to brew it yourself because of the hemlock and hellebore, but maybe Dylan and I could at least help prepare the ingredients for you."

"Thank you," Snape said sincerely. "Perhaps I'll take you up on your offer." He was impressed by Theodore's common sense, and pleased to have an excuse to spend more time with his sons. 

"By the way, sir," Theodore said casually as he continued to work on the Wolfsbane Potion, "I heard that Uncle Terrence stopped by to see you yesterday."

"I see that gossip travels as quickly as ever," Snape observed with a faint smile.

"Did you show him the paper I signed, surrendering my claim to the Nott estate?"

"Indeed I did," Snape said, still smiling.

"I guess he was happy, then, to find out that he'd inherit the estate?"

Snape's smile widened and turned downright smug. "Not quite so happy once I told him that you didn't need to bother with that 'piddling little estate' now that you are the Snape heir."

Theodore laughed. "I wish I could have seen his face!" Then his face took on a look of spiteful satisfaction. "I'm glad the Ministry levied that thousand-Galleon fine on the estate; I only wish they'd taken more."

Snape cackled and gave his son an approving nod. "I had the same thought; great minds think alike, it seems." Theodore laughed, and Snape was pleased to see him looking happy and at ease after all the recent unpleasantness with the Dietrich boy. He supposed that Lupin was right--as usual--about the adoption being the right thing to do, after all, and suddenly dealing with his parents seemed like a small price to pay in order to see Theodore smile.

By the time the potions were done brewing and left to cool (in the case of the Pain's Ease Potion) or to simmer (in the case of the Wolfsbane Potion), Dylan was waiting for them with Lupin when they returned to Snape's quarters. As they resumed the chess game, Snape was filled with such a sense of contentment that he didn't even object when Lupin snuggled up to him and laid his head on Snape's shoulder.

*** 

Damien and Blaise as they were studying together in the Slytherin common room when a group of their female housemates came up to them. "Where are Dylan and Theodore?" Pansy asked.

"They went over to Professor Snape's quarters," Blaise replied. 

"What for?" asked Yvonne, the look on her face plainly saying that she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to spend their free time hanging out with Snape.

"Theodore has just been adopted by the Professor," Blaise explained patiently. "Of course he wants to spend some time with his father."

"Oh, of course," Yvonne said, waving her hand dismissively; Theodore didn't interest her. "But what about Dylan? Snape didn't adopt him."

"The Professors are his foster parents," Blaise said. "He enjoys spending time with them." 

"What do you care, anyway?" Damien asked. "He's going out with Granger now."

Yvonne pouted and Pansy sighed wistfully, "I know, but we still miss having him around."

"It's not as much fun without Dylan around," one of the younger girls added. Although Dylan had never dated any of the Slytherin girls, he had still flirted casually with them, dispensing his attentions more-or-less equally among all of them, which they had enjoyed even though they would have liked things to have gone further.

"I'm always available, ladies!" Damien declared with his most flirtatious grin.

"You're such a flirt, Pierce," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"Why, thank you," Damien said proudly.

"I don't think she meant it as a compliment," Millicent said dryly.

"Hey, I take what I can get!" Damien said cheerfully, and the girls all laughed. Blaise laughed with them, but secretly he missed having Dylan and Theo around, too--Theo especially. He was grateful to Lupin and Snape for everything they had done: for protecting the Slytherins from the Death Eaters, for giving Theo and Dylan a home, and especially for convincing his father to allow him to continue his friendship with Theo. It would be selfish to begrudge Theo the time he spent with his new family, but still, he missed the time he usually spent with Theo in the evening.

Much later that night, Blaise lay awake in bed watching his sleeping lover. Theodore's face was relaxed and peaceful, with none of the tension or sullenness it was normally filled with during his waking hours. Blaise gently pushed a lock of black hair back from Theo's face. Over the summer, his hair had reached shoulder-length and his bangs had grown to the point where they kept falling into his eyes but were not quite long enough to be tucked behind his ears. Blaise had discouraged Theo from cutting it, though, because it gave him a convenient excuse to reach out and brush Theo's hair back whenever they were alone together; he loved running his hands through Theo's hair. 

Blaise knew that Theodore thought of himself as ugly, or at best plain, which puzzled and saddened Blaise, because he thought his lover was very handsome. He was, of course, a bit biased, but he loved Theodore's hair, which was a deep, glossy black--the same color as Bane's feathers, although he wasn't sure that Theo would appreciate being compared to Blackmore's demonic bird. 

He gently ran a finger along Theo's high, angular cheekbones, which Blaise thought made him look quite distinguished and aristocratic, although other people seemed to think of him as being sharp-featured, an image unfortunately enhanced by the scowl Theo wore so often. He did in fact look a bit like Professor Snape now that Blaise thought about it, although perhaps he was being influenced by the fact that he now knew that Theo had Snape blood. At least he didn't have Snape's nose, Blaise thought with a smile, although of course he still would have loved Theo if he had. 

Blaise let his fingertips trail down Theo's cheek, admiring his lover's smooth, pale, unblemished skin. Theodore really did have a beautiful complexion, although he would have laughed if anyone had told him that. He'd never gone through that phase that most teenagers did, of having oily skin or breakouts of blemishes--usually at inopportune times, such as right before a date. 

But Theo's best feature, Blaise thought, was his eyes: dark and intense, a very odd shade of green tinged with a hint of gray; moss-green Blaise liked to call it, although Theo always self-deprecatingly referred to it as muddy or murky. Blaise thought his eyes were unique, with hidden depths, much like Theodore himself. Blaise gently kissed the lids covering those eyes; Theo sighed and stirred a little, but did not wake.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Theo," Blaise whispered. "Then you would see how beautiful you are." He and Theodore had been roommates since they had both entered Hogwarts, but it taken him years to really get to know Theo, and even now he sometimes felt as if he didn't truly know his lover. Theo had always been taciturn and guarded, from the moment he entered Hogwarts. 

Blaise had known that Theodore belonged to a prominent pureblood family and was the son of an alleged Death Eater, so he was not surprised that Theodore spent most of his time hanging around with Draco Malfoy and his cronies. Nor was he surprised when Theodore mostly ignored him in public; he didn't expect a Nott to associate with someone from as low-ranking a family as Blaise's. He had been somewhat surprised that Theodore was always polite to him in private, though, and eventually he had noticed that while Theodore always hung around with Draco, ran errands for him, laughed at all his jokes, and echoed his insults about Mudbloods, he rarely took an active role in the cruel pranks and bullying that Draco instigated, although Crabbe and Goyle did. It had seemed more like he was going along with what Draco did because he had to, not because he wanted to. 

Very slowly, they had begun building up a tentative friendship: Blaise had noticed Theodore struggling with his Arithmancy homework one night in their room, and had offered to help; Theodore had returned the favor a few days later by helping Blaise with a difficult Potions assignment. Gradually, Theodore had unbent enough to make harmless small talk with Blaise when they were alone in their room together, discussing Quidditch or complaining about their teachers, although Blaise had carefully avoided complaining about Snape, another alleged Death Eater who clearly favored Draco and his companions. 

Blaise would sometimes talk about his family, and Theodore would listen with a slightly wistful air, but never discussed his own family, and had always looked gloomy when he had to return home for Christmas or summer vacations. During their third year, Blaise had gotten sick and missed one of their Hogsmeade days, and Theodore had brought back some candy from Honeydukes for him. When Blaise had thanked him, Theodore had merely shrugged and muttered, "No big deal," but Blaise had been touched by the gesture. Still, Theodore never acknowledged their friendship in public, a situation Blaise had resigned himself to; he hadn't really blamed Theodore, it was simply the way things worked in the world of pureblood politics. But all that changed when Dylan came to Hogwarts...

Dylan, another son of a Death Eater, had immediately become part of Draco's inner circle. But unlike the other Slytherins who were all cowed by Draco, Dylan had been able to somehow maintain a certain degree of independence without offending Malfoy; Blaise was still not exactly sure how he had done it, but whenever Draco began showing signs of resentment, Dylan had always been able to disarm him with a little charm and flattery. It also helped that Draco had been distracted by his escalating feud with Harry Potter. Blaise had been wary of Dylan at first, but he was so charming that it was impossible to dislike him. Unlike Draco, Dylan was friendly to everyone and not at all arrogant, and like Theodore, never seemed to actively take part in Draco's pranks and taunts. 

Although Dylan had catered to Draco as most of the Slytherins did, he had quickly formed his own circle of friends: his roommate Damien Pierce, Theodore, and Blaise. And suddenly, it seemed to be all right for Theodore to hang out with Blaise and acknowledge him in public. Draco never gave them a hard time about it, although he had once casually asked Dylan why he and Theodore were "hanging out so much with Pierce and Zabini". Dylan had replied that it was only natural, since Damien and Blaise were their roommates, and Draco had just shrugged indifferently, and for the most part left them alone. That year, Blaise's fourth, was when he and Theodore had started to grow closer and become best friends, and when Theodore had relaxed enough to tell his friends to call him by his nickname, Theo; Blaise had been calling him by his full name for the past three years before that.

Their fifth and sixth years had been fraught with tension caused by the ever-increasing threat of the Death Eaters, but there had been moments of happiness as well. His sweetest and most vivid memory by far was the night he had discovered that Theo was in love with him, the night they had shared their first kiss--and a little more...

*** 

One night during their usual study session, Dylan was telling his friends about an odd encounter he'd had with Serafina Avery in the library. It was a bit shocking that she'd spoken to him at all, considering that she never said anything in class unless called on by a teacher, and spoke even less outside of the classroom.

"I told you she had a crush on you, Dylan!" Damien laughed, then said scornfully, "Eh, you can do better than that, though, when you've got girls like Lisa Turpin or the Patil sisters drooling over you. Avery's kind of scrawny and plain-looking."

Damien was for the most part a nice person, but he was a bit shallow when it came to women. Blaise felt an urge to stick up for Serafina, even though he barely knew her himself, just on principle, so he said casually, "She's got nice eyes." It was true; her eyes were a striking, very beautiful shade of blue-violet. Blaise didn't think that she was really homely; it was more that she took no interest in her appearance, and that her emotionless expression and her talent for hexes tended to put people off.

"Ah, so that's your type, is it?" Damien teased. "Too bad she's hung up on Dylan!" Blaise just smiled and shook his head.

"She's not hung up on me," Dylan protested.

"The girl's a freak!" Theodore snapped, scowling fiercely.

Blaise raised his eyebrows and said mildly, "Well, you don't have to be mean about it, Theo." It was very unlike Theo to make nasty comments like that, at least when Draco wasn't around. And even then, all he did was echo Draco's insults about the Gryffindors; he had never shown any particular hostility towards Serafina before. In fact, for the most part, Serafina and Theo simply ignored each other, despite the fact that their fathers were friends and fellow Death Eaters, and that most of the Slytherin girls seemed to think that the two would be betrothed once they came of age. 

Theodore made no mention of an arranged marriage, but then again, he never talked much about his family, and Blaise didn't ask, perhaps because he was afraid the rumor might be true. As to why the thought of Theodore making an arranged marriage bothered him so much...well, Blaise chose not to examine those feelings too closely.

"Well, she _is_ weird," Theodore muttered sullenly. "She never says anything, just stares at you with that freaky look on her face, like you're one of the specimens in Snape's jars..."

"You have nice eyes, too, Theo," Damien cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully. "No need to be jealous!"

"Oh, bugger off, Pierce!" Theodore snarled, his face turning red.

"Jeez, some people just can't take a joke," Damien muttered, sounding a little hurt.

Damien had unwittingly hit the nail on the head; Blaise suddenly realized that the sharpness in Theo's voice was not his usual sullenness, but rather jealousy. He gave Theodore a puzzled look as he asked Dylan, "So what did she say to you, anyway?" in an attempt to distract his friends and head off an argument between Theo and Damien.

As Dylan began explaining how Serafina had walked in on an argument between himself and Hermione Granger in the library, Blaise continued thinking about Theo and why he might be jealous of Serafina. All he had done was say that she had nice eyes...and then the most logical explanation occurred to him. He felt like his head was spinning, but he managed to carry on the conversation with his friends without anyone noticing anything out of the ordinary. Theodore calmed down, and seemed a little embarrassed about his earlier outburst. 

But even as he laughed and joked with the other boys, Blaise kept glancing at Theodore, wondering if Theo really did like him as more than a friend. The thought did not disturb as him much as he might have expected it to; in fact, he felt a little twinge of satisfaction at the thought of Theo being jealous of him being attracted to someone else, and Blaise was not normally the type to take pleasure in another person's unhappiness, especially his best friend's. He glanced at Theo again, but his friend seemed to be trying to avoid his gaze, which was probably a good thing, because otherwise he might have noticed that Blaise was staring at his lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. Blaise felt his mouth grow dry and his face grow warm, and quickly looked away.

He couldn't talk to Theo about this in front of Dylan and Damien, of course, and he found himself waiting impatiently for bedtime to arrive so that he could talk to Theo alone. But once it did, he found himself feeling tongue-tied and unsure of himself. If he brought it up and he was wrong, he would feel like an idiot, and more importantly, it might make Theo feel uncomfortable, which would put a strain on their friendship. But still, by the way Theo was continuing to avoid his gaze, he thought he was probably right. He was still debating with himself over whether to say anything or not as they brushed their teeth, put on their pajamas, and climbed into bed.

"Goodnight, Theo," Blaise said.

"'Night, Blaise," Theo muttered as he rolled over on his side, turning away from Blaise to face the wall. After a moment, he asked hesitantly, "Say...Blaise?"  "Hmm?"

"Do you...fancy Serafina?" Theo asked, in a tone of voice that attempted to be casual but came out sounding rather forced.

"No," Blaise replied. "Why do you ask? Because I said that about her eyes?"

"Yeah," Theodore mumbled. "Forget I asked. I was just curious."

"Well, they are a very unusual color; very striking. But I don't like her that way. I don't really know her well enough to like or dislike her; she never talks to me, or anyone else." Now Blaise was sure that he was right about Theo liking him as more than a friend. Theodore remained silent, still staring at the wall, and Blaise realized that the next move was going to be up to him. He took a deep breath, then got out of bed and crossed the room to sit on the edge of Theo's bed.

He reached out and gently touched Theo's shoulder, then said playfully, "I like your eyes, too, Theo."

Theodore scowled at him. "You and Damien can stop making fun of me," he snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you," Blaise said seriously. "I do like your eyes, they're a really unique shade of green. Not bright green like a leaf, but more..." He hesitated, trying to find the right words.

"Murky. Muddy. Ugly," Theodore said sullenly. "One of my cousins once told me they looked like swamp water." 

Blaise shook his head. "Moss-green," he said. "It makes me think of someplace dark and cool and quiet and peaceful, like a forest." 

"Obviously you've never been in the Forbidden Forest, if you think a forest is peaceful," Theodore grumbled, but he sounded pleased. "Not bad, though--that was almost poetic. Though I doubt many poets write odes to moss." 

"At least your eyes are an interesting color," Blaise said lightly. "Not like mine. Brown is just so...well...ordinary. Nothing poetic about brown. I mean you can say 'as blue as the sky' or 'green as emeralds'. What's brown besides dirt?"

Theodore suddenly stared directly into Blaise's eyes. "Brown? Hmm...let's see...how about chocolate?"

"Chocolate?" Blaise laughed; that was certainly a comparison that had never occurred to him before!

"Yes, chocolate," Theodore said firmly. "Rich and dark and sweet as a bar of Honeyduke's finest." Then he fell silent, seeming to be embarrassed; it was hard to tell in the dark, but he seemed to be blushing.

"Theo?" Blaise asked gently.

"Yeah?" Theodore replied, sounding gruff and defensive, yet vulnerable and a little frightened at the same time.

Blaise leaned close and asked softly, "Do you...fancy me?" He said it almost jokingly, but he was dead serious, and he felt his heart racing as he waited for Theo's answer; it seemed to be pounding loudly enough for the entire dorm to hear.

"Yes," Theodore croaked in a hoarse whisper, as if struggling to get the word out, and Blaise, feeling dizzy and weak with relief, leaned forward and kissed him. Blaise had kissed a few girls before at parties--not many, because most Slytherin girls wouldn't waste their time on a boy whose family had no influence and no money--but those kisses had been brief and awkward and unsatisfying, and had left him wondering what the point of it was. 

But this kiss was everything those others had not been: sweet and intoxicating and...well...perfect. Theodore's lips were soft and warm, and their mouths seemed to fit together as if they'd been made just for each other. Theo wrapped his arms around Blaise and pulled him close, returning the kiss hungrily. Theo's tongue tentatively probed at his mouth and Blaise eagerly parted his lips; a moment later Theo's tongue was caressing and entwining with Blaise's. 

Theo ran his hands up and down Blaise's back, then slowly slipped his hands under Blaise's pajama top, and Blaise gasped, breaking off the kiss. Theodore instantly froze, and Blaise kissed him again, hoping that would encourage him to continue. It worked, and the sensation of Theo's hands gliding along Blaise's bare skin sent a blaze of heat through his body that went straight to his groin. He gasped again and returned the caress, sliding his own hands beneath Theo's pajamas, reveling in the feel of Theo's smooth, warm skin beneath his hands.

Theo's hands continued their exploration of Blaise's body, although Theo paused between each caress, looking anxiously at Blaise, as if asking for permission. Blaise tried to reassure him by responding to each touch and kiss with one of his own. Blaise felt Theo's hands slide down his back, across his waist, and up his chest, deliberately brushing against his nipples, which instantly hardened. Blaise's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. 

Then, as Theo hesitated, his hands still resting on Blaise's chest, Blaise returned the caress, imitating the way Theo's hands had moved across his own body, and delighted in the way Theo's nipples hardened in response to his touch, and in the way Theo's dark green eyes widened as a soft, involuntary gasp of pleasure escaped his lips. Blaise smiled and sealed Theo's mouth with a kiss, and their tongues twined and darted around each other once more. Theo's hands drifted back down Blaise's chest, lazily rubbing against his nipples again along the way, causing Blaise to whimper a little, then rested on his stomach for a moment before Theo very slowly and hesitantly started to slide one hand beneath the elastic waistband of Blaise's pajama bottoms.

The heat Blaise had felt when Theo had first started caressing him was nothing compared to what he felt now, and he groaned so loudly and eagerly that Theodore finally seemed assured that his touch was welcome. Blaise groaned again as Theo's hand closed around his burgeoning erection and moved slowly up and down the shaft. Theo laughed breathlessly, then reached over to grab his wand from the nightstand and cast a silence spell on the room. "We don't want the entire dorm to hear us, after all," he whispered into Blaise's ear.

Blaise whimpered impatiently, wondering how his friend was able to retain enough composure to think about such mundane and practical things at a moment like this, although he supposed he should be grateful for it, because otherwise they would be the talk of the Slytherin dorm in the morning. Or maybe not--the room next to them belonged to Crabbe and Goyle, who always slept like logs. Then Theodore resumed what he had been doing before the interruption, and all rational thought flew out of Blaise's head. 

Blaise reached out to touch Theo, a little hesitantly--he had never touched another boy this way before--but quickly grew even more excited when he could feel how hard Theo already was, even through the cloth of his pajamas (which was, after all, not very thick). And suddenly they were both struggling out of their clothes, which were quickly tossed aside, and were running their hands all over each other's bodies with no more hesitation or shyness. Blaise had no experience with this, but he tried to touch Theodore the way he liked to touch himself (furtively, at night, at home with his bedroom door locked against his sweet but nosy sister, or occasionally under the covers in his dorm room, but very quietly and only when he was certain that Theo was asleep). 

Theo certainly responded enthusiastically enough, moaning and thrusting into Blaise's hand, and Blaise responded with equal passion to Theo's touch. The mechanics were the same, but this was a thousand times more intense than his solitary masturbation sessions, during which he sometimes tried to picture one of his pretty female classmates, but those mental images had never done much to excite him--probably because, he now realized, it was not a girl at all but Theo that he wanted. Blaise and Theo were both too excited and keyed up to last for long, and climaxed within a few minutes. Blaise felt warm stickiness spilling into his hand, and then he came as well, crying out, "Oh God, Theo, I love you!"

"Wh-what?" Theo stammered, his eyes going wide with shock.

The words had slipped out without his intending to say them, but they were true, Blaise realized. He had loved Theo for nearly two years now, ever since they had become best friends, and had not noticed the precise moment when platonic love had changed into something deeper. "I'm sorry," Blaise said. "I know it's a bit sudden, and I don't expect you to say it back." _Yet,_ he silently added, _though I hope you will eventually._ Aloud, he continued, "I didn't mean to say it right at this moment; it just sort of slipped out, but it's true. I do love you."

Theodore laughed shakily. "Are you sure it's not just, well, the heat of the moment? Sex makes people say and do crazy things..."

"I'm not crazy," Blaise said firmly, "and I do love you. It's not just about sex, Theo. You're my dearest friend, the person I trust most in the world, and even if we decided to just be friends and never had sex again, I would still love you." Despite his words, the thought of going back to being "just friends" filled him with a sense of emptiness, and he grinned and cracked a joke to cover up that sudden feeling of despair. "Though I hope we will. Have sex in the future, I mean; lots of it." Theodore suddenly began to weep. "Theo!" Blaise said in alarm. "What's wrong?" He mentally kicked himself for letting that impulsive declaration of love slip out; he had moved too fast for Theo and screwed everything up...

But Theo was gasping between sobs, "I love you, too...I've wanted you...for so long...but I never thought...you'd feel the same way...oh, Blaise..."

Overwhelmed by relief, Blaise pulled Theo close and held him tightly, heedless of their sticky hands. "I love you, Theo," he whispered fiercely. "I'll always love you." He kissed away the tears running down Theo's face, the taste of salt filling his mouth. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that."

*** 

Blaise smiled down at his sleeping lover, the memory of that first encounter filling him with a sense of tenderness; it was that memory he called upon when he needed to summon a Patronus. He leaned down to kiss Theo on the cheek, and he realized that it was not the extra time Theo spent with Lupin and Snape in the evening that bothered him so much as it was the fear of losing Theo. When Theo's parents had been alive, Blaise had known in the back of his mind that someday they would arrange a marriage for Theo, probably to Serafina, but he had tried not to think about it.

He had avoided thinking about the future at all, in fact, because there had been a very good chance that the Death Eaters would be ruling the wizarding world in the future, and that had been something that he would rather not imagine. But then the Death Eaters had been defeated and Theo's parents killed, and although he had done his best to console Theo, Blaise had secretly felt relieved that the Notts were dead: now Theo would no longer have to suffer his father's abuse, and he would not have to marry Serafina or anyone else; now they could be together. Blaise's parents would be upset about their romance at first, but he was sure that they would accept it eventually. 

And then Theodore was adopted by Snape, which changed everything, at least in Blaise's mind. No one cared whether an orphaned Death Eater married and carried on the family name or not, but the Snape heir was another matter. He had voiced his fears to Theo, who had casually brushed them off, telling him not to worry about it, that he was sure Snape and Lupin would not object to their romance. Which was probably true, considering that the Professors were gay themselves, but people did not always behave logically. 

What if Snape, now that he had resumed the mantle of the Snape heir, wanted to make sure that his line continued? And there was Selima Snape to consider; by all accounts she was a formidable woman--look at how she had bullied Snape into returning home despite their long estrangement--and she would most definitely want to make sure that Theo eventually had an heir of his own to carry on the Snape name. Blaise knew that he was being a little hypocritical; after all, Theo had confessed to having the same fears about Blaise's family during the summer, and Blaise had assured him that he wouldn't let his parents come between them. Shouldn't he trust Theo the same way that he wanted Theo to trust him?

But...Theo had never really had a family before, not one that loved and protected him the way Lupin and and Snape did. He had spent nearly his entire life fearing his father and despising his mother, which made him all the more fiercely loyal and devoted to his new family. Theo had been so overjoyed when Professor Snape decided to adopt him, and Blaise tried to feel happy for him, but he couldn't help but wonder what Theo would do if he was forced to choose between his lover and his family. Which led Blaise to wonder what he himself would do if he had to choose between letting Theo get married and settling for being his secret lover on the side, or giving him up completely.

Blaise wrapped his arms around his lover and whispered, "Please don't leave me behind, Theo."

Theo stirred and blinked sleepily. "Blaise?" he asked in a slightly slurred voice, only half-awake.

"Sorry, Theo," Blaise said contritely, kissing him on the cheek. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Love you," Theo mumbled, pulling Blaise closer, then he sighed contentedly and went back to sleep.

Those two mumbled words and that sigh made Blaise feel much better, and the tension went out of his body as he relaxed in his lover's embrace. He was being silly; of course Theo loved him and wouldn't let anything come between them. Besides, Snape's father wasn't dead yet, which placed Theo second in line to inherit the title behind Snape, and the Professor was young and healthy; it would be many years before Theo would have to produce an heir of his own. Blaise resolved to enjoy his last year at school with Theo, and worry about the rest of it--inheritances and heirs--when the time came.

*** 

Snape had his seventh-year Advanced Potions class test their Fire Shield Potions by handling hot coals and burning sticks of wood from the fireplace. The students did well for the most part, although they all looked apprehensive except for Granger and Dietrich. Snape had to admit that although the boy's attitude left much to be desired, he was a good Potions student; he had observed that Aric was always careful and meticulous while brewing his potions in class.

Then again, from what Snape had heard, Durmstrang subscribed to the "sink or swim" method of teaching, so a student who was not careful risked injury or worse; while such incidents were extremely rare, Snape had heard whispered rumors of students who had suffered fatal accidents during their Dark Arts lessons. In any case, Aric confidently reached into the fireplace and held up a flaming brand with no sign of pain, smiling smugly. 

Granger did the same thing, with just as much confidence, if less smugness. Snape was pleased that all of his Slytherins--including his son--passed the test with flying colors, and somewhat to his surprise, so did Potter and Longbottom. Weasley, Michael Corner, and Hannah Abbott suffered minor burns, but fortunately for them, they had at least brewed their Burn-Healing Paste correctly.

"He's so mean," Susan Bones whispered as she helped Hannah smear the Paste on her hands, glaring at Snape as he loudly praised his Slytherin students and awarded points to them. "Making us stick our hands into the fire like that; what if someone had been seriously hurt?"

"Well, how else would we know if the potions work or not?" Hannah asked in a reasonable tone. "It's not so bad, really, just a couple of blisters. I'm fine, honestly. It's my own fault; I must have made a mistake when I was brewing the potion."

"Yes, Miss Abbott," Snape said, suddenly gliding over to their desks and startling both girls. "You did not let the vervain and alder bark boil and steep long enough before adding the saxifrage roots, which lessened the efficacy of your potion. Fortunately, you did a better job on your Burn-Healing Paste. And just to inform you, Miss Bones--" He glared at Susan. "--there is nothing wrong with my hearing. Five points off Hufflepuff for your insolence." Susan flushed and bit her lower lip as the Slytherins snickered, obviously fighting the urge to make a retort that would only cost her House more points. 

At least the Hufflepuffs were a bit more sensible than the Gryffindors, Snape mused to himself. He finished awarding points to his Slytherins, and grudgingly awarded five points to Miss Granger, scowling at her as she smiled at him warmly. "Class dismissed," he said curtly.

*** 

"I still think he's mean," Susan complained as they left the dungeon. "And unfair, too! He only gives points to the Slytherins no matter how well the rest of us do on our potions."

"And to Hermione," Justin pointed out with a smile.

"That's because she's Dylan's girlfriend," Pansy giggled.

"It's blatant favoritism," Michael complained. Then as Harry and Ron glared at him, hastily added, "Er...no offense, Hermione. It's not like you don't deserve the points, but it's true that Snape only rewards the students that he favors."

Hannah shrugged. "That's Snape. He's always been like that."

"You're all such whiners," Aric sneered. "Snape isn't fair; so what? The world isn't fair, and only a fool would expect it to be."

"I don't recall anyone asking you for your opinion, Dietrich," Michael snapped.

Aric just smirked. "That's all right; I'm giving it free of charge." The other Slytherins laughed, except for Theodore and Blaise, who watched him warily.

"I hate to say it," Draco said, "but Dietrich has a point. Fairness is a Gryffindor notion."

"It's not solely a Gryffindor notion," Susan said pointedly. "It would be more accurate to say that Slytherin is the only House without a sense of fair play."

"I thought all this House rivalry would end with the war," Lisa Turpin interjected quietly, and some of the students began to look a little ashamed.

"Get real, Turpin!" Draco said, although he looked somewhat abashed himself. "You're not going to change a thousand-year tradition overnight!"

"I did think that Snape might change a little after the war, though," Lisa continued, ignoring Draco. "Now that he doesn't have to pretend to be a Death Eater anymore."

"But he has changed, a little," Neville pointed out timidly. "He's openly living with Professor Lupin, and that would never have happened before the war."

"True," Lisa acknowledged. 

"I think," Hermione said thoughtfully, "that he keeps up his old image out of habit, because he'd be embarrassed if people started thinking he was nice."

"No fear of that," Ron snorted derisively.

"Allegra thinks he's nice," Hermione reminded him.

Ron snorted again, and Blaise glared at him for a moment, then sighed, "I hate to admit it, but perhaps my sister isn't really the best judge of character...I mean, I think Snape is all right; he's done a lot for us Slytherins, but 'nice' might be stretching it a bit..."

Harry had remained silent throughout the argument, thinking about the times that Snape had unfairly singled him out for detention or humiliation, as well as the times that he had seen a different side to Snape: Snape healing Sirius after the battle with the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic; Lupin kissing Snape in front of everyone at the head table in the Great hall; Dylan hugging an embarrassed Snape at his and Theodore's birthday party; and Snape quietly playing chess with Theodore in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place while Lupin smiled at them affectionately.

"I wouldn't exactly call Snape nice," Harry finally said, and everyone turned to look at him expectantly; most of the other students seemed to give Harry's words added weight since he had become "the savior of the wizarding world," which made him rather uncomfortable. "But he isn't a Death Eater. He helped defeat Voldemort, and that's what really matters. I can live with him being unfair and only giving points to Slytherin." He suddenly grinned, feeling lighthearted. "At least we're alive to complain about it!"

"That's looking on the bright side, Harry!" Neville laughed, and Hermione smiled approvingly.

"You Gryffindors are always so disgustingly optimistic," Draco said scornfully, but he seemed to be fighting back a smile.

"And anyway," Millicent added, "Snape's not the only teacher who plays favorites!"

The group of students continued on, still arguing about teachers and favoritism, but in a much more good-natured manner.

*** 

After lunch, the seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins had Incantations and Summonings. Aric thought Professor Blackmore was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but in spite of that, he was not the slightest bit attracted to her. His old Potions Master at Durmstrang had been a herpetologist who kept a number of poisonous snakes as pets in his laboratory, and Blackmore reminded him of the Potions Master's prized possession, a magnificent king cobra: beautiful, but in a cold and deadly way. Her eyes, like the snake's, were filled with an arrogant indifference that seemed to say, "I could kill you anytime I wish; you are simply not important enough for me to bother with."

Which was fine with Aric; he definitely wanted to stay beneath Blackmore's notice, and was careful to be quiet and polite in her class. Even though some of his other teachers were dangerous, such as Bleddri and Snape, he sensed that he had a little leeway with them--not much, but at least a little; they would tolerate a small amount of rudeness and insolence before they tried to harm him or have him expelled. One look at Blackmore told him that he would have no such leeway with her. Before coming to Hogwarts, Aric had laughed at his parents' stories about Professor Blackmore's demonic blood, but now that he had actually met her, they no longer seemed so funny. He heard that she had recently married Sirius Black, and he wondered if the man was incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Well, Black was a Gryffindor, so the answer was probably both.

Today Blackmore was lecturing them on para-elementals. "They are a subspecies, a kind of combination between two of the four types of true elementals. The creature called Soot that Professor Lupin used to help you with your Patronus Charms last year was a smoke elemental, a combination of fire and air, and you may recall that I summoned an ice elemental to help with the Christmas decorations last year. And that would be a union of what two elements...?" Granger's hand immediately shot up into the air, and Blackmore actually smiled a little. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Air and water, Professor."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Blackmore said approvingly. "Can anyone name any other types of para-elementals?" To Aric's surprise--and apparently Blackmore's too, because she raised her eyebrows a little--Crabbe and Goyle raised their hands. "Mr. Goyle."

"Mud elementals," Goyle said proudly. 

"A combination of earth and water," Crabbe added.

Blackmore laughed out loud, and she no longer looked quite so cold and scary. "Yes," she said, with a mischievous little twinkle in her eyes, "I suppose you would be familiar with mud elementals, since your fathers had firsthand experience with them--and with scrubbing mud off the dungeon walls with toothbrushes. Very good, Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe." The two boys beamed at her. "Anyone else?"

More hands rose into the air, and she called on Malfoy next. "Dust elementals--air and earth."

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy," Blackmore said, then looked at the hands still raised in the air. "Mr. Snape?" Aric noted with mild interest that she never stumbled or hesitated over Theodore's new name the way most of the other teachers, including Snape himself, did.

"Lava elementals are made up of earth and fire," Theodore replied promptly.

"Very good, Mr. Snape. Anyone else? There is one species of para-elementals left that you have not yet named." The students hesitated, and Blackmore continued, "Think upon the combinations that have already been named: fire/air, water/air, earth/water, earth/air, earth/fire. There is only one combination left."

"Fire/water," Potter said. "But how could they combine? They're opposites; wouldn't they cancel each other out?"

Granger's hand shot up again, and for the first time, Aric raised his; he'd been keeping a low profile in Blackmore's class, but he couldn't stand to be outdone by his cousin or a Gryffindor girl.

"Yes, Mr. Dietrich."

Aric was not actually familiar with para-elementals, since Summonings classes in Durmstrang concentrated mainly on how to summon Dark Creatures, not elementals, but there was only one logical answer. "Steam elementals," he said confidently, hoping that he was right and wasn't making a fool of himself.

"Very good, Mr. Dietrich," Blackmore said approvingly, and Potter shook his head with a "damn, that should have been obvious" expression on his face. Theodore gave Aric a sullen look, and Aric felt quite pleased with himself. His pleasure was short-lived, however.

"Your next assignment will be to summon a para-elemental," Blackmore said. "You will have three weeks to research the proper incantations, runes, and spell components before you make your presentation. Keep in mind that para-elementals are harder to summon, and more difficult to control once they are summoned, than a true elemental. You may choose which type of elemental you wish to summon, but you are limited to smoke, mud, dust, or ice elementals. The school governors have deemed lava and steam elementals too dangerous for the students to handle." 

Blackmore looked as though she disagreed with that decision, but said nothing to contradict the edict. "You will work with the same partners as last year." There were a few stifled groans which were quickly silenced when Blackmore glared at the offenders. "Of course we have two students who were not here last term. Let's see..." Blackmore stared at Daphne Greengrass and Aric thoughtfully for a moment. "Potter, Weasley, Malfoy--your group has only three members while the others have four, so Miss Greengrass and Mr. Dietrich can join your group."

Greengrass gave all four boys a nervous look, but said nothing. Draco scowled a little, but likewise remained silent. Weasley groaned softly and muttered, "As if Malfoy wasn't bad enough..."

"Do you have any objections, Mr. Weasley?" Blackmore asked in an icy voice, giving him that cobra-like stare which was no longer indifferent. The Professor's raven also gave him a menacing look.

"No, ma'am!" Weasley squeaked, turning pale.

"Very well, I'll dismiss you early so that you can head to the library. For those of you not familiar with para-elementals, you may wish to do some research on the various species before you decide which one you want to summon. I will expect you to inform me on Monday as to what type of elemental you've chosen, which will give you the weekend to reach your decision. Class dismissed."

"This really sucks," Weasley complained as they left the classroom.

"Oh, quit whining, Weasley," Aric sneered. "It's not like I'm any happier about it than you are."

"You're Nott's cousin, aren't you?" Weasley grumbled. "Why couldn't she put you in his group?"

"Maybe because she didn't want them to kill each other," Draco said dryly. "And his name is Snape now, not Nott."

Weasley suddenly laughed. "Hey, that's sort of like a pun: not, Nott. Get it?"

"Your Gryffindor wit astounds me," Aric said sarcastically.

Weasley opened his mouth to make a retort, but Potter cut him off. "Knock it off, you two," he said irritably. "I don't like this, either, but we haven't got a choice. Crossing Professor Blackmore is a bad idea." He shuddered a little. "A really, _really_ bad idea!"

"Yeah, I got that impression," Aric reluctantly agreed, then curiously asked, "So what did you do to run afoul of her?" Because it definitely seemed like Potter was speaking from personal experience.

Potter shuddered again. "It's a long story, and I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just say that you should never mess with her familiar."

Meanwhile, Greengrass trailed behind them so quietly that Aric almost forgot she was there. When they reached the library, Potter blinked in surprise, as if he'd forgotten about her, too. "Er...Daphne, right?" he said hesitantly. "I don't remember seeing you in Incantations last year."

"I was out sick most of the year," she replied quietly.

"So do you have any preference about what sort of elemental we should summon?" Potter asked.

Greengrass shook her head. "No, I have no experience with Summoning spells, so whatever the rest of you decide is fine," she said meekly.

"Well, what do you guys think?" Potter asked. "Draco, Ron--any ideas?"

"I don't know anything about para-elementals," Weasley said.

"Well, fire and air elementals are always the hardest to control," Malfoy said, frowning thoughtfully. "They're the most mercurial and capricious of the elementals. Water can be kind of temperamental, too, though not as bad as air and fire. Earth elementals are the most stable, and the easiest to summon and control. So a mud elemental would probably be the easiest to summon, and a smoke elemental the hardest."

"Let's go with mud, then," Weasley said.

"But won't we get more points for summoning a more difficult elemental?" Aric objected, partly just to be contrary, but also because he preferred a challenging assignment to an easy one.

"He has a point," Malfoy admitted reluctantly. "I have my grades to think of, even if you don't care about yours, Weasley. Besides, we handled that air elemental okay last year."

"So what do you want to summon, then, Malfoy?" Potter asked.

"A smoke elemental," he replied. "Blackmore will give us the most credit for that."

"Only if we're successful," Weasley said pointedly.

"Well, Weasley," Malfoy drawled in a condescending tone, "if you don't think you're up to it, that's understandable, considering that you're a Gryffindor..."

"What?" snapped Weasley, scowling at Malfoy. "You don't think I can handle it?"

"You're right," Malfoy said in a soothing tone. "We should probably stick to a mud elemental. Wouldn't want to overtax you, after all..."

"I can handle anything you can, Malfoy!" Weasley said hotly. "Fine, let's summon a smoke elemental!"

Malfoy smirked, and Potter sighed and shook his head, looking torn between annoyance and amusement, but all he said was, "All right, then, it's settled. Let's get started on the research."

"So who appointed you boss?" Aric sneered.

Weasley and Malfoy, for once united in their dislike of Aric, glared at him and clenched their fists, but Potter took a deep breath, then said calmly, "Look, Dietrich, neither of us wants to work together, but we're stuck with each other. The sooner we get the work done, the less time we'll have to spend together." Aric scowled, but Potter was right, so he grudgingly nodded.

"Let's divide up the research like we did the last time," Malfoy suggested, still glaring at Aric. "Then we can work on our own and get back together once each of us is done with our individual task."

"Good idea, Malfoy," Potter said approvingly, and Aric was a little taken aback to see a Gryffindor and Slytherin cooperating; well, perhaps he had served as a common enemy to unite against. After a little debate, it was decided that Potter and Weasley would research the protective circle and runes, and that Malfoy would handle the summoning incantation while Aric worked on the incantation to control the para-elemental. Surprisingly, the timid Greengrass girl volunteered to research and gather the material components for the spell without being asked. 

Aric was tempted to argue about the division of chores, again just to be difficult, but decided that he'd had his fill of hanging around with the Gryffindors and that arrogant twit Malfoy, who often tended to forget that he was no longer a big shot now that his father was dead and disgraced, although Aric took great pleasure in reminding him of it. But suddenly Aric felt tired of fighting and just wanted to be alone; being on his guard all the time, always keeping up that aggressive front and watching to see if Theo or the other Slytherins were going to retaliate against him, was proving to be exhausting. 

So he just nodded, found the books he needed, and quickly checked them out and took them back to his dorm room. Because there were an uneven number of new male students, or perhaps because Snape didn't trust him and was afraid he might harm his roommate, Aric had been given a room of his own instead of having to share one as most of the other students did. Then again, there did seem to be a few spare rooms to go around, at least in the boys' dorm, and he assumed it was the same in the girls' dorm. 

The number of pureblooded students had begun to decline in recent years, and since Slytherins were almost always purebloods, the number of new Slytherin students was slightly less than that of the other Houses, who presumably weren't so picky. At first Aric had been pleased to have a room of his own; it meant that he didn't have to put up with an annoying roommate, and more importantly, because he'd made enemies of most his housemates by insulting Theodore, Dylan, Snape, and Snape's pet werewolf, he didn't have to worry about a roommate hexing him or tampering with his things. 

But now, as he stacked the library books neatly on his desk, it made him feel even more isolated from the rest of his House. Maybe he'd made a mistake by coming on so strong; it would have been nice to have at least one friend. He should have been more subtle and ingratiated himself with the other Slytherins before gradually manipulating them into turning against Theodore with a few carefully worded rumors and innuendoes.

Aric sighed. His teachers at Durmstrang had praised his academic skills, but often chided him for being too hotheaded and acting without thinking. Uncle Rafe had once said much the same thing. "Subtle you are not, Aric," Rafe had chuckled, patting Aric on the head fondly as he held a handkerchief to his nose to staunch the bleeding after he had gotten into a fistfight with one of his playmates. "I'm afraid you take after me."

Aric felt tears sting his eyes, and quickly shook off his melancholy mood and headed to his next class; he didn't have time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. Fortunately, his next class was Physical Defense, and a good workout helped him to take his mind off of things. He was even able to score a solid hit with his wooden sword on Potter's ribs. From the way Potter yelped in pain, and the way he winced and rubbed the spot after the bout was over, Aric had definitely left behind some bruises. 

"Let's go get some hyssop leaves from Professor Sprout after class," Potter muttered to Weasley.

Master Bleddri had watched Aric with a puzzled, almost suspicious look on his face during the entire period, but all he said was, "You certainly showed great enthusiasm and effort today, Mr. Dietrich. Five points to Slytherin."

After classes were over for the day, Aric headed to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the tryouts for the Slytherin team. He took a seat alone in the stands, but there were small clumps of students sitting together here and there in the Slytherin section, and Snape sat with Lupin up at the very top of the stands. Aric sighed wistfully; he would have liked to try out for the team himself, but there was no point to it, since he had antagonized Malfoy, the team Captain, so badly. No doubt Malfoy would take great pleasure in turning him down no matter how well he performed, and Aric wished once again that he had been more subtle in pursuing his revenge against Theodore. 

Oh well, live and learn. He would tone down his hostile act and work on winning over his housemates. He knew that Theo's closest friends would never accept him, but surely there were some students that Theo and especially Malfoy must have offended in the past, children from lower-ranking families who had resented having to grovel and cater to the Death Eater families. And Aric was well aware of his good looks, and had noticed the admiring glances some of the girls cast his way, like Yvonne Deveraux. She was a bit of an airhead, but she was pretty and popular, and could help him get accepted, at least by the younger students. And once he started behaving himself and fitting in with his peers, perhaps Theo and Snape might relax their guard a little...

*** 

Meanwhile, Theodore was having a bad day. He and Blaise were stuck working with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan again on their Incantations project, and once they were out of Blackmore's classroom and safely in the library, Dean began complaining to Theodore about how "your dad nearly burned my girlfriend's friend's hand off! And Susan got points taken off for standing up for Hannah!"

It took Theodore a few moments to realize that he was talking about the testing of the Fire Shield Potions in Snape's class; he must have talked to Susan between classes. "Oh for Merlin's sake!" Theodore said disgustedly. "It was just a few blisters, and the Burn-Healing Paste took care of that. Besides, if Abbott had brewed her potion properly, she wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place!"

"It's still not right," Dean insisted, "that Snape should put students in danger!"

"No one has ever been seriously injured in Snape's classes," Blaise said mildly. "And besides, if Hannah didn't have a problem with it, there's no reason for you to be getting so worked up about it."

Dean scowled at Blaise, and Theodore snapped, "You aren't even in our Potions class, so mind your own business, Thomas!" Which set Dean off again, escalating their argument as Blaise and Seamus tried to hush them, until Madam Pince came over to scold them and take five points off both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"What's the matter with you, mate?" Seamus asked his friend, giving him a puzzled look. "The war's over, you know."

"Don't let him bait you like that, Theo," Blaise gently scolded. "Professor Snape will be upset if we lose points for Slytherin, and besides, you don't want to get detention with the tryouts coming up this afternoon."

And then there was Physical Defense, which was Theodore's least favorite class after Care of Magical Creatures. Not that he disliked Master Bleddri, but he did dislike the physical combat and the bruises that inevitably came along with it. Still, he wanted to keep his grades up, and more importantly, he knew that Bleddri would probably report on his progress to Lupin, whom he didn't want to disappoint, so Theodore still gave the class his best effort.

But Bleddri noticed his lack of enthusiasm. "Cheer up, Nott...sorry, Snape," the werewolf said heartily, slapping him on the back, causing Theodore to stagger a little; Bleddri was much stronger than he looked. "Remus says you're trying out for the Quidditch team, and an athlete needs to be fit. The workout you're getting here will benefit you on the Quidditch Pitch, trust me. A Chaser needs strong arm and leg muscles, and quick reflexes." Without warning, the werewolf threw a blow his way, and thanks to his lessons from both Bleddri and Karasu, Theodore automatically raised his arm to block it. "Good work!" Bleddri said with a grin, slapping him on the back again; this time Theodore was prepared for it, and braced himself. 

Well, at least the lessons were paying off, and the werewolf's praise did cheer him up a bit. But it irked Theodore that his cousin, who was new to these lessons, was already doing better than him, at least with the weapons-work, and Aric was rapidly catching up in the hand-to-hand combat as well. Aric was such a typical pureblood snob; who would've figured that he'd be good at physical combat? 

Though of course Aric had only taken up fencing because Rafe had done it, and they had both idolized their uncle. Theodore hadn't been aware that Aric had taken up fencing; he had never even considered doing so himself because he knew that his father would never have permitted it. Thaddeus Nott had believed that only Muggles needed to bother with things like swordplay, because it cast doubt on a wizard's ability if he needed any weapon other than magic to defend himself.

Theodore's final class of the day was Divination, which was, as usual, a complete waste of time. Professor Trelawney laid out tarot cards and--again, as usual--predicted dire futures for all of her students.

"I see death in your past and death in your future," Trelawney intoned dramatically as she read Theodore's fortune, and Lavender and Parvati gasped fearfully. Theodore wanted to continue getting good grades in this class, so he just nodded respectfully, but inside he was thinking to himself in annoyance that although the two Gryffindor girls were pretty, they must not be very bright if they hadn't figured out by now that Trelawney was a fraud. He knew that Damien liked them, and he wasn't sure he wanted his friend dating anyone that stupid.

When she laid out the cards for Aric, her eyes glazed over a little and she said, "I see great turmoil in your future; you will be faced with a life-altering decision, and the choice you make will determine whether you live or die." Aric rolled his eyes, but Trelawney didn't seem to notice, and continued predicting death, danger, and disaster for each of the students, departing unexpectedly from this pattern only once, for Parvati. She smiled knowingly and clasped Parvati's hands between her own. "I see love and romance in your future, my dear!" Parvati squealed happily, and Lavender, Pansy, and Millicent clustered around her, speculating on who Parvati's love interest would be.

"Of course there's death in my past," Theodore grumbled as they left the classroom. "Everyone knows that my parents are dead! And as for death in my future, everyone knows that my adopted grandfather is dying, thanks to that Howler Lady Selima sent to Snape--I don't need a Seer to tell me that!"

Dylan, who was waiting for him in the hallway, laughed. "Never mind, Theo; it's easy marks--all you have to do is nod and agree with her, and she'll give you a good grade. By the way, I had Divination in the morning, and she told me that I would face great danger. Think I should watch out for Bludgers on the Pitch?" Theodore rolled his eyes, and Dylan laughed again. "Come on, we've got to get our brooms and head to the Pitch."

"Good luck, Theo," Blaise said, throwing an arm around his shoulder and giving him a quick hug. "I'll be cheering you on from the stands; I promised to take Allegra to watch the tryouts."

Theodore felt a little less grumpy as he walked onto the Pitch. He was excited to be joining the Quidditch team, and his mood continued to improve when he looked up into the stands and saw Blaise and Allegra grin and wave at him. Surprisingly, Hermione and three of Allegra's Gryffindor yearmates were sitting with them, along with Lavender, Parvati, Pansy and her brother Patrick, Miriam Baddock, and Slaine Kendrick. Even more surprisingly, they all seemed to be chatting in a friendly manner and getting along with each other. 

Lupin and Snape were sitting together at the top of the stands, and Lupin cheerfully waved at him. Theodore waved back, then to his shock, saw Aric sitting by himself in the stands. He wondered what Aric was doing here; although his cousin was a Quidditch fan, he had made it clear that he considered everyone in Slytherin beneath him. Theodore hastily cast an Aperio spell on his broom, and checked it carefully for hexes, but found no enchantment on it other than the one that made it fly.

"What are you doing, Theo?" Dylan asked.

"Just checking for hexes," Theodore replied. "Aric is in the stands, and I wouldn't put it past him to put a hurling hex on my broomstick."

"He might," Dylan said skeptically, "but he doesn't have access to your broom; you keep it locked up in your room when you aren't using it."

"I just couldn't figure out why he would be here except to laugh when I fall off my broomstick."

"Well, it looks safe enough," Dylan said.

"Rosier! Nott--uh, Theo!" Draco called. "Get a move on, we haven't got all day!"

So Theodore shrugged and joined the rest of the team and aspiring team members. A number of boys had come to try out for the team--and one girl. Millicent Bulstrode strode onto the field carrying her broomstick; she had changed out of her skirt into more practical trousers beneath her robe.

"Millicent?" Draco asked, his eyes going wide and round with surprise. "Er...what are you doing here?"

"What does it look like, Draco?" Millicent replied impatiently. "I'm trying out for the team. For the position of Keeper, specifically."

"Um...ah..." Draco stammered, "but you're a girl."

"So glad you noticed, Malfoy," Millicent said sarcastically.

"But...but..."

"There's no rule against it," Dylan said reasonably. "All the other teams have girls."

"But...um...ah..." Draco continued to stutter, still looking flabbergasted. "Aren't you, um, well...worried about your reputation?"

"No," Millicent replied calmly, "because I'm practically engaged to Miles, and he approves. In fact, he worked with me over the summer, teaching me some moves."

"I'll bet he did," Damien said with a suggestive grin, then shouted, "Ow!" as Millicent whacked him hard on the shoulder.

"Quidditch moves," she clarified in a pointed voice. Then she grinned slyly. "As for what else he might have taught me, that's none of your business." Damien laughed good-naturedly as he rubbed his shoulder.

Draco hesitated, but could find no other reason to object, and said, "Okay then, let's get started."

*** 

Lupin and Snape watched from the top of the stands as the Slytherin team worked with the prospective members, two at a time, one each in the open Chaser and Keeper positions.

"Millicent's good," Lupin said admiringly, as the girl kicked the Quaffle away from the hoops at the end of the field.

"Yes," Snape agreed. "She's quick and strong; she actually might have made a good Beater if those positions weren't already filled by Crabbe and Goyle. Of course, it's breaking with tradition a bit..."

Lupin grinned and leaned against Snape, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. "Some traditions are made to be broken, Sev. Such as the one that says Slytherins shouldn't date Gryffindor werewolves."

Snape laughed. "Cut that out, Lupin," he said affectionately. "You're ruining my reputation."

"It's not like anyone's watching us," Lupin pointed out, and it was true; all the spectators were below them, and had their eyes fixed on the Pitch.

"It's not like you listen to me, anyway," Snape grumbled.

"Besides," Lupin continued, "your reputation was already ruined the moment I kissed you in the Great Hall."

"True," Snape sighed with mock-regret, and since there was no point in trying to hold on to something so damaged, he slipped his arm around Lupin, who chuckled softly and snuggled a little closer to him. Below them, Pansy, Lavender, and Parvati called out encouragement to Millicent while Blaise, Allegra, and Hermione loudly cheered on Theodore.

As did Lupin. He lifted his head from Snape's shoulder to shout, "Go Theo!" when his foster son took possession of the Quaffle and headed towards the goals.

Snape regarded him with amusement. "I thought that showing favoritism for one of your students went against your Gryffindor ideals, Lupin."

"Of course I'm going to cheer for my son!" Lupin said indignantly.

Snape grinned. "I can't wait to see what you're going to do when Slytherin plays Gryffindor."

"That does create a bit of quandary, doesn't it?" Lupin said ruefully. "I suppose I'll have to cheer for all of them--Harry, Dylan, and Theo."

"Potter will have Black cheering for him," Snape complained, but without the sharp edge of jealousy his voice usually contained when discussing those two with Lupin.

Lupin must have noticed that, because he smiled tenderly at Snape and kissed him on the cheek. "I would make a lousy coach or referee because I always want everyone to win. I wish the game could end in a tie."

"And you call _me_ a softie?" Snape teased him. "The whole point of playing the game is for there to be a winner."

"Well, I suppose I shall have to root for Slytherin to win, then," Lupin said, "since both of our sons are on the team. But I'll still applaud Harry and the other Gryffindors when they make a good play." Lupin rested his head on Snape's shoulder again, and after a few minutes of silently observing the tryouts, he said, "They're actually starting to function together as a team, instead of as a group of individuals carrying out their tasks independently of each other. Draco's coordinating the plays and relying on his teammates instead of trying to hog all the glory for himself. I think he learned a lot from last year's victory, when he and Dylan worked together to beat Gryffindor."

"I'm sure we can beat Gryffindor again this year," Snape said confidently. "Minerva and I have raised our annual bet to fifteen Galleons."

"You know, I'm not really sure that the teachers are setting a good example for the students by gambling on Quidditch matches..."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Lupin!"

"Just don't gamble away the Snape fortune, my love," Lupin said, giving Snape another kiss. "You do want to leave Theo an inheritance, after all."

Snape snorted. "A fifteen-Galleon bet isn't going to beggar me, Lupin. Besides, I don't intend to lose!"

When the tryouts concluded, Snape and Lupin headed down to the Pitch, where Draco announced that he had selected Theodore and Millicent to fill the Chaser and Keeper positions, and that he had chosen Malcolm Baddock and Brad Doherty as reserve players.

"Congratulations to all of you," Lupin said, and the new team members beamed at him happily. 

"Good work, all of you," Snape said, and their smiles grew even wider. "I have a bet with Professor McGonagall that Slytherin will win the first game of the season, and I'm confident that you won't let her pocket my money."

"Yes, sir!" the team chorused.

"Don't worry, sir," Draco said. "We won't let you down! This year Slytherin will take the Cup for sure!"

"That's the spirit, Malfoy!" Snape said approvingly, patting Draco on the shoulder. He gave the team a nod of dismissal, and they trooped off to change and shower or greet the friends and siblings who had come to cheer them on. Once the team had dispersed, leaving Dylan and Theodore more-or-less alone with him and Lupin, Snape placed a hand on Theodore's shoulder and said quietly, "You did well; I'm proud of you."

Theodore smiled at him, his face practically glowing with love and pride and sheer joy; if that glow had been literal rather than metaphorical, it would have been blinding, and Snape was once more awed and touched by the depth of his son's love. He still felt a little unworthy of it, and bewildered as to how it had all come about, but he resolved to be a good father to Theodore, and to Dylan as well.

"Thank you, sir," Theodore whispered, sounding a bit choked up himself, and Snape squeezed his shoulder, then stepped aside to let Lupin hug him.

As usual, the werewolf had no problem showing his emotions. "Oh, Theo, I'm so proud of you!" Lupin said, hugging him in what looked to be an almost painfully tight embrace. "I can't wait to see you play!"

"Thank you, Remus," Theodore said, hugging him back. He sounded a little breathless, either overcome by emotion, or maybe he was just having trouble breathing due to the force with which Lupin was squeezing his ribcage. But if it was the latter, he made no complaint. 

Snape grinned; he'd heard the wolf's fierce protectiveness in Lupin's voice, and despite his earlier misgivings, he didn't think that Lupin was going to have any trouble rooting for Slytherin over Gryffindor. Dylan smiled at his foster brother and father, and Snape, mindful of the possibility of sibling rivalry even though Dylan didn't seem resentful, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good work, Dylan. The team seems to be in fine shape. I'm looking forward to seeing you beat Gryffindor again."

"Thank you, sir," Dylan said with the charming, rakish grin that looked so much like Evan's. "We've got a really strong team, and I can't wait to play my first match with Theo."

He sounded genuinely happy about his brother making the team, so Snape gave him one more affectionate pat on the shoulder, then let Lupin, who had finally released Theodore, hug his other son.

"I'm so proud to have both of you on the team together! Severus and I will be rooting for you!"

"Thanks, Remus."

And then the boys' friends came down from the stands to greet them. Hermione politely congratulated Theodore, who was so ecstatic that he accepted her congratulations and shook her hand without the air of resigned disapproval that he usually regarded his brother's girlfriend with.

"Thanks, Granger," he said, still grinning from ear to ear.

Blaise gave Theodore a hug, and Allegra was jumping up and down with excitement. "I knew you'd make the team! I can't wait to see you play! Congratulations, Theo!" Theodore laughed and accepted the girl's hug, and bent down so that she could kiss his cheek. "Oh, and these are my friends Emma, Chloe, and Portia."

"Hi, nice to meet you," Theodore said, still too euphoric to notice or care that they were wearing Gryffindor colors. 

Snape raised an eyebrow. "How unusual to see Gryffindors at a Slytherin practice," he said, but in a mild tone, because Lupin was giving him a look that said he had better not give them a hard time.

Emma, Chloe, and Portia still looked a little intimidated, but Allegra blithely replied, "Oh, but Theo is my friend, so of course I had to come cheer him on! And Parvati and Lavender came to cheer on their friend Millicent, too." The two older Gryffindor girls were congratulating their friend, and Damien took advantage of the opportunity to do a little flirting, and soon they were all laughing together, the girls smiling coyly and fluttering their eyelashes at him.

"He's even worse than Evan was," Snape muttered disgruntledly, and Dylan just laughed and slipped his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her close.

"I'm happy to leave the title of School Playboy to Damien. After all, even Dad settled down when he found the right woman."

Dylan and Hermione began gazing at each other in an insipid, lovesick manner, and Snape growled, "Please don't do that in public!"

Lupin laughed and slipped his own arm around Snape's waist. "Oh, don't be such a grump, Severus! Besides, a Slytherin shouldn't be so prudish!"

"Cut that out, Lupin! Honestly, you're worse than the students! And it's not the physical display of affection that I object to, just the nauseating manner in which they moon over each other. If I wanted to subject myself to that sort of thing, I'd go to Madam Puddifoot's!"

Allegra giggled, and her three friends stared at their teachers, wide-eyed and incredulous. Lupin winked at them. "Thank you for coming; I think it shows good sportsmanship on your behalf. Gryffindor and Slytherin may be rivals on the Pitch, but there's no reason why they can't be friends off the Pitch. Please feel free to stop by the practice sessions anytime."

"And who appointed _you_ Head of Slytherin?"

"Well, Sev, as your consort, I figured that I sort of shared in your authority..."

"My _what?"_

"Well, that is what your mother called me, after all--your 'consort in all but name' I believe were her exact words..."

Dylan and Hermione were laughing out loud; Theodore and Blaise were manfully trying to restrain their laughter, with their hands clamped firmly over their mouths, but little choked snorting noises kept escaping; Allegra was still giggling; the other first-year Gryffindor girls' eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of their heads with shock; and now the rest of the students remaining on the field were beginning to stare at them as well. Snape grabbed Lupin by the arm and quickly hustled him off the Pitch.

"She didn't say you were my consort," Snape said, glaring at his lover. "She said she would let you be my consort in all but name if you would let me make a marriage with a pureblood woman and ensure that the Snape line doesn't die out."

"Well, we've given her a Snape heir," Lupin pointed out, "so I feel as though I've done my part and am entitled to call myself your consort. Besides, it's not up to Selima to choose your mate." Lupin growled and nipped at his neck. "The wolf has already done that."

"Lupin, please!" Snape protested. "At least wait until we reach our quarters!"

The werewolf gave him a feral, sensuous smile, his lips pulling back from his teeth to expose his sharp canines. "Well then, we'd better hurry. It is getting close to the full moon, after all, and you know what that means..."

Snape cursed out loud, even as he felt a surge of lust run through his own body in response to Lupin's smile, and he fairly ran to his quarters, dragging a laughing Lupin with him.

*** 

The two lovers ran past a couple of students along the way, who gave them puzzled looks.

"What's wrong with the Professors?" one asked.

Lukas, who also happened to be passing by, gazed after the pair with an almost envious look in his eyes. "Full moon," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than the students.

"What?" the student asked, sounding even more confused.

"Never mind," Lukas sighed. "You wouldn't understand." He headed to his own quarters, resolving to take a cold shower. He had never taken a permanent mate as Lupin had, but he'd had his share of casual lovers, and he knew how the waxing moon could enhance one's physical desires, and how satisfying those desires could ease the stress and pain that normally accompanied the the week of the full moon. But it was not really the urge to get laid that was bothering him so much as the fact that he was lonely. He missed his pack, especially as the full moon drew near; Remus was a friend and a fellow werewolf, but he was not really pack. Remus already had his own pack, including a mate and cubs, which only served to accentuate Lukas's loneliness. 

It was a myth that werewolves mated for life, but like most myths, it had some basis in fact. There was no biological imperative binding them solely to one mate, but wolves were social animals--the term "lone wolf" being something of a misnomer--and werewolves had a strong need for companionship and a sense of belonging. Ironically, that was often difficult to find, since they had been scorned and reviled by most of wizarding society up until very recently. But when a werewolf did form an emotional bond with a lover, or even just a friend, it tended to be a very strong one. 

Lukas had been content with his role as pack leader, a sort of father figure to his wolves, and had not felt a particular desire to take a lifemate, but observing the bond between Remus and Snape made him feel strangely wistful, as if something was missing from his life and he had not realized it up until now. If Dumbledore was so set on hiring werewolves, it would be nice if he would hire a female werewolf--a pretty, single female werewolf. Of course, he already knew most of the female werewolves in London, and while many of them were attractive and brave and loyal, and he had even indulged in casual affairs with a few of them, he could not really picture himself spending the rest of his life with any of them...

*** 

Meanwhile, Snape and Lupin were completely oblivious to the discontent they had awakened in their fellow teacher. They stumbled into the bedroom, practically tearing the clothes off each other's bodies; small black buttons went flying everywhere as Lupin yanked Snape's shirt open, while Snape ripped open a seam on Lupin's shirt as he tugged at it, but they barely noticed. They carelessly flung their clothes aside and tumbled into the bed together. There was some quick fumbling for lubricant, and in their haste they spilled most of a bottle of lavender oil on the sheets, filling the air with a cloyingly sweet scent; a cleaning spell would easily have taken care of that, but neither of them wanted to take their hands off each other for even the short time it would take to cast the spell.

A few minutes later, Snape was buried deep in Lupin's body, and Lupin whined urgently, clawing at his lover's back to urge him on. As Snape began thrusting into him harder, Lupin's whine turned into a growl as he lifted his hips to meet those thrusts, and soon growling turned into frantic howling. Snape bit down hard on Lupin's throat, then thrusted one last time, and Lupin came, and for one long moment, he forgot who and where he was, aware of nothing but the intense wave of pleasure washing over his body.

Gradually awareness returned to him: the weight of his lover's body on top of him; the sound of Severus's breathing, harsh and ragged; the scent of sweat and sex mingled with the perfume of lavender...Lupin blinked, then smiled and tenderly kissed Severus, running his hands through his lover's thick, black hair. "That was wonderful, Sev," he said, his own voice also a little ragged as he tried to catch his breath.

"Likewise," Snape said, returning the kiss and gently caressing Lupin's cheek. He shifted position slightly so that he was lying next to Lupin instead of squashing him, and put his arms around his lover and pulled him close. They snuggled together contentedly, Snape lazily stroking Lupin's long hair, and Lupin affectionately nuzzling Snape. But after a short time, Snape suddenly noticed that Lupin's breathing had quickened and his nuzzling was growing a little more purposeful as he planted a kiss first in the hollow of Snape's throat, then on the spot where his neck joined his shoulder, and then began nipping gently at Snape's neck with his sharp teeth. Lupin pressed his body closer against Snape's, leaving no doubt that the werewolf was rapidly becoming aroused again.

"Lupin," Snape protested with a laugh, "you have to give me some time to recover!"

"You know how I am when the full moon is near," Lupin laughed, then he writhed against Snape and moaned in a more urgent voice, "I need you, Severus."

Well, the sensation of Lupin's body writhing against his was certainly delightful, but... "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak--or at least a little tired," Snape said with a grin. Lupin only moaned in response, then whined a little. "Well, how can I resist that?" 

Snape laughed. He loved those wolfish noises Lupin made in bed, and there was no reason for Lupin to suffer while Snape waited for his flesh to catch up with his spirit. He pushed Lupin onto his back and kissed him deeply, letting his tongue run across Lupin's teeth and tongue. Then he pulled away--Lupin whimpered a little in protest--to cover Lupin's neck with soft kisses and sharp little bites; the werewolf sighed. Snape slowly kissed his way down Lupin's chest, pausing to close his mouth over each nipple in turn--sucking, licking, and nipping with lips, tongue, and teeth. He heard a sharp hiss as Lupin inhaled, arching his back. 

Lupin moaned, twining his hands in his lover's hair, his voice filled with both desire and frustration; what Severus was doing felt wonderful, but other parts of his body were demanding attention even more urgently. Severus finally moved on, his mouth continuing its journey down Lupin's chest. Lupin shivered, delighting not just in the sensation of Severus's lips, but also of his hair (sleek and shiny, not greasy!) trailing against his bare skin. His breathing quickened as Severus's lips moved from his chest downwards across his belly, but stopped short of going where Lupin wanted them to. Instead, Severus pushed apart Lupin's legs and slowly began kissing his way up the inside of one thigh, from knee to crotch, and then the other. By the time he finished, Lupin was writhing and groaning with frustration. 

"Severus!" he growled. Severus looked up and gave him a wicked grin that only served to intensify Lupin's need. "Please, please, please," Lupin whimpered.

Snape savored the pleading note in Lupin's voice and the way his blue eyes were dilated and unfocused with lust. He let Lupin writhe and whimper just a little longer, then finally ended the torment by bending down and taking Lupin into his mouth. Lupin let out a wild, wordless cry, his hips involuntarily jerking up off the bed, thrusting up into Snape's mouth. Snape continued his ministrations, delighting in the way Lupin moaned and tossed his head from side to side, clawing at the sheets with his hands. 

It was not long before Lupin howled as he came, then fell back against the bed, his body seeming to go limp and boneless with release. Snape swallowed; a slightly bitter aftertaste remained in his mouth, but to be frank, it was nowhere near as bad as the Wolfsbane Potion, and besides, any evidence of how much Lupin needed and desired him was welcome to Snape. He kissed Lupin, who willingly parted his lips and entwined his tongue with Snape's. Lupin put his arms around Snape and pulled him close, then broke off the kiss and laughed, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Well, Severus, the flesh, as you put it, seems to be quite willing now!"

It was true; watching Lupin writhe and moan and plead had been extremely stimulating, and Snape found that he was more than ready for another round of lovemaking. "Well, I suppose it's my turn to wait for you to recover," Snape laughed, although his body was telling him very insistently that he was ready _now._

Lupin's lips curved slowly into a sensual smile, and he tilted his head to one side and lowered his eyelids slightly, giving Snape a come-hither look. "Oh, I don't see why you can't get the party started, Sev; I'm sure I'll catch up with you soon enough." He rolled over onto his stomach, then propped himself up on his hands and knees, and turned his head to glance at Snape. Lupin's long gold-and-silver hair fell across his face, but it didn't hide his playful snarl as he bared his teeth, nor the feral look in his pale blue eyes. "Take me," he growled, "as another wolf would take me."

Snape normally preferred to make love to Lupin face-to-face, because he loved watching Lupin's face contort with desire, loved to watch the way his fair skin flushed with lust and exertion, the way his mouth opened in a moan, the way his eyes went wide and unseeing at the moment of climax, or conversely, the way they squeezed shut as if the ecstasy was almost too much to bear. No matter how caught up he was in the moment, Snape tried never to close his eyes during their lovemaking, wanting to keep them fixed on Lupin's face the entire time. 

But suddenly he found the idea of making love to Lupin in this position very exciting; maybe it was the snarl and the wolfish look on Lupin's face. He didn't need a second invitation; he gripped Lupin's waist with his hands to brace himself, and with one swift thrust, was sheathed in his lover's body. Lupin pushed back against him in an encouraging, but slow and almost languid manner, and Snape matched his pace, but soon Lupin began to groan and push against him in earnest. Lupin turned his head again and growled at Snape, his eyes feral and wanton, more wolf than human. 

Snape knew, since his relationship with Lupin had been made public, that people gossiped about them behind their backs--some good-naturedly, like the idiot schoolgirls who giggled and thought it was all very romantic, and some more maliciously. People in the latter group muttered darkly about bestiality and speculated as to what he and Lupin did during the full moon (personally, Snape thought they were the real perverts, not he and Lupin), but the truth was that Lupin's wolf form aroused tenderness rather than lust in Snape; the gossips would probably be disappointed to find out that nothing more went on other than a little ear-scratching on Snape's part and a lot of slobbering and tail-wagging on Lupin's part. 

On the other hand, he did find the sight and sound of Lupin acting like a wolf in his human form to be very arousing. He continued thrusting, more rapidly now, slamming hard into Lupin's body, panting and sounding not unlike a wolf himself. Lupin let out a strangled little howl and shoved his hips backwards to meet Snape's thrusts, and Snape reached beneath him to stroke Lupin's erection--he had definitely "caught up" with Snape as promised.

A violent shudder ran through Lupin's body, and for a moment he froze, paralyzed by indecision, unable to decide whether he wanted to move backwards to meet Severus's thrusts or forward with the stroking motion of his hand. He whined, which seemed to excite his mate further; the pace of both his thrusts and his strokes increased. The wolf snarled and took over completely; Lupin frantically threw his body back and then forward, again and again, and then he was howling as his body convulsed with pleasure; a small, only dimly aware part of his mind noticed that Severus had come as well.

Lupin collapsed on the bed, and Snape collapsed on top of him, both of them exhausted and gasping for breath. Snape rolled off of Lupin onto his back, which certainly made it easier for Lupin to breathe, but Lupin, still craving contact with his mate, draped himself across Snape's chest, sighing happily.

Snape reached up to stroke Lupin's hair, saying, "Please tell me that was it for tonight, Remus; I don't think I'm up for another round!"

Lupin raised his head slightly to smile at his lover. "I think that is sufficient for tonight, but you know that the wolf's appetite will continue to increase as the full moon draws closer."

Snape groaned, "I'll have to take a Strengthening Solution to keep up with you!"

"For all your complaints, Severus," Lupin said with a grin, "you've never failed to, ah, rise to the occasion, if you'll forgive the pun."

"Ha ha, Lupin, very funny," Snape said with a scowl that didn't fool Lupin for one second. "I suppose that's what passes for wit in Gryffindor House."

Lupin just chuckled and laid his head back on Snape's chest, and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of his lover's heartbeat. "I love you, Severus," he said softly.

Taken a little aback by the sudden shift in mood, Snape snorted and said gruffly, "I love you, too, you annoying little werewolf." Then after a moment's silence, he said in a gentler voice, "I love you, Remus," and tenderly stroked Lupin's hair. Not long after that, they both fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.

*** 

Aric stood outside Lupin's office door on Saturday morning, impatiently tapping his foot; it was five minutes after he was supposed to have met Lupin to begin his detention, and the werewolf was nowhere in sight. He thought enviously of the students who were still lounging around lazily in the Slytherin common room; a few were even still in bed sleeping. Apparently the Hogwarts students could sleep as late as they wanted on the weekends, although it meant that they missed breakfast if they slept too late. But Aric had learned from listening in on his housemates' conversations that one could always sneak down to the kitchen and cadge some treats from the house-elves, so late risers were not likely to go hungry.

In fact, Professors Snape and Lupin had been absent from the head table at breakfast this morning, which caused some of the younger students to voice concern that one or both of the Professors might be ill, while some of the older students smirked or giggled or voiced sly speculations as to what the Professors might be doing until Theodore flushed and told them to shut up. Maybe if Aric was lucky, Lupin really was sick, and his detention would be cancelled, or at least postponed.

But he had no such luck; Lupin was walking quickly down the hall towards him, combing his disheveled long hair with his fingers. "Sorry I'm late, Aric," the werewolf said apologetically, sounding out of breath. His cheeks were flushed, so perhaps he had been running; Aric tried not to think about what other activities might have caused that flush. "I...um...overslept. Ready to go?"

"Yes, sir," Aric said sullenly.

"Good," Lupin said cheerfully. "Let's go meet Master Bleddri."

Aric was not surprised that they "just happened" to bump into Theodore and his friend Blaise along the way. Aric's cousin had been one of the students lounging in the common room, and Aric had noticed Theo casting a suspicious glance his way when he left the dorm. No doubt Theo had followed him to see what he was up to; it surprised Aric a little that Lupin apparently hadn't told Theo about the detention.

"Good morning, Theo, Blaise," Lupin greeted the two boys, sounding surprised but pleased. "You're up and about early this morning."

"Good morning, Remus," Theodore said casually. "We were just on our way to the library."

Lupin raised his eyebrows and smiled. "The library on a Saturday morning? My, how diligent of you!"

"We have a lot of research to do for Professor Blackmore's class," Theodore replied innocently. "Er...where are you off to?"

Lupin grinned. "Aric has volunteered--" Aric snorted. "--or rather, been coerced, into helping out at the charity clinic in Diagon Alley."

"What?!" Theodore exclaimed, giving Aric a jealous and resentful look, which eased the sting of serving detention slightly for Aric.

"The Professor didn't exactly give me a choice," Aric said, but he smirked at his cousin. "It's part of my detention."

"You're welcome to come along with us, if you like," Lupin offered, and Aric scowled at him.

Theodore looked a little sulky when his friend reminded him, "We're supposed to meet Dean and Seamus later to work on our project, and you have Quidditch practice after lunch," but Aric felt relieved. It was bad enough serving detention with the werewolf without having his cousin tagging along.

"Another time, then," Lupin said with a smile, and laid his hand on Theodore's shoulder. "Perhaps next weekend. Stop by later tonight, and we can discuss it. Besides, I'm sure Severus would love to have another chance to beat you at chess."

Theo's sulky expression vanished, and he smiled and said, "Yes, sir." Lupin squeezed his shoulder, then he and Aric continued on their way as Theo and Blaise went off in another direction.

Master Bleddri was waiting for them outside the castle beside one of the horseless carriages that were used to transport the students to and from the Hogsmeade station. Well, "horseless" in the sense that Aric could not see any beasts hitched up to it, although he assumed one or more of the invisible Thestrals would be pulling it. Aric supposed that most of the Hogwarts students would be surprised to learn that a student from a school with as Dark a reputation as Durmstrang had never witnessed death, but he hadn't. In fact, it was likely that far more of the Hogwarts students could see the Thestrals than their Durmstrang counterparts, considering that the dramatically dubbed "Final Battle" had taken place on the Hogwarts grounds. And of course Aric knew for a certainty that Theo could see the Thestrals because he had witnessed Rafe's death...

"Why do we need to take a carriage?" Aric asked sullenly. "Wouldn't it be quicker to take the Floo?"

"It would," Lupin said in that annoyingly chipper tone he always used; his good mood undampened by Aric's sullenness. "But the Thestrals need the exercise, and a carriage ride is more fun, don't you think? Besides, we have some boxes of food, clothing, and potions to deliver to the clinic, more than we could carry in our arms going through the Floo."

"Charity goods and hand-me-downs?" Aric sneered. 

For the first time that morning, Lupin frowned. "Never look down on anyone less fortunate than yourself, Aric. You never know when your positions might become reversed."

Bleddri opened the carriage door and said in a tone that brooked no argument, "Get in. The sooner we get there, the sooner your detention will be over, and the sooner we can all go home." There was a dangerous glint in his yellow-green eyes, and Aric climbed into the carriage without further complaint.

During the ride to Diagon Alley, Bleddri lectured Aric in that same stern tone of voice, "You will keep a civil tongue in your head while we are at the clinic, Mr. Dietrich. You will likely be encountering a number of werewolves, and not all of them are as good-natured as Professor Lupin and I are." 

Aric could not by any stretch of the imagination picture anyone calling Bleddri "good-natured," and his disbelief must have shown on his face because Bleddri grinned in sardonic amusement, revealing his sharp, fang-like canine teeth. Aric swallowed hard and felt the blood drain out of his face; it was easy to forget sometimes that Lupin was a werewolf, but it was impossible to regard Bleddri in as cavalier a manner.

"Thus, for your own safety, and for theirs--because I don't want any of my fellow werewolves being sent to Azkaban for ripping your throat out--you will refrain from making any of the snide remarks and insults that you normally indulge in at school. Is that clear, Mr. Dietrich?"

"Yes, sir," Aric said meekly. 

"Good," Bleddri said. "Because if there is any trouble, you will answer to me. Personally."

"Yes, sir," Aric repeated. He might be a little hotheaded, but he was not a complete idiot; pissing off any werewolf was a dangerous proposition, and he had the feeling that Bleddri was more dangerous than most. Of course, any werewolf who attacked him would no doubt be sent to prison or even executed, but that would be cold comfort to Aric if he were killed, or God forbid, turned into a werewolf himself. Bleddri seemed satisfied with his response, and Lupin, damn him, looked amused. Aric sighed; it was going to be a very long two hours...

They made a quick stop at Slug & Jiggers to pick up more packages. "Hello, Professor Lupin," the shopkeeper said, greeting Lupin as if he were an old friend. "Master Bleddri. I have your order ready." He set several wrapped parcels and a large box on the counter. "And is this one of your students?"

"Yes," Lupin replied. "This is Aric Dietrich, one of Severus's Slytherins. Aric, this is Mr. Jigger, the owner of the shop."

Aric nodded politely, and Jigger smiled at him. "Another one of Professor Snape's proteges?" he asked.

Bleddri snorted derisively and Lupin said politely, but somewhat evasively, "Well, Aric is a new student, and school has just started, but he seems to be doing quite well in Potions class so far."

"You should bring young Mr. Rosier by again sometime," Jigger told Lupin. "Is he graduating this year?"

"No, Dylan is in his sixth year, so he still has one more year to go."

"Pity," Jigger said. "I could use an apprentice; I'm getting on in years, and I would like to retire soon, if I could find someone to take over the shop. Not just anyone will do; it has to be someone who will keep up the high standards that the Jiggers have established since the shop was first opened by my great-great-great-great-grandfather. Of course, if Mr. Rosier is as good as Professor Snape says he is, I'm sure he'll have many job offers when he graduates, but tell him to keep me in mind."

"I certainly will," Lupin said, and handed a couple of parcels to Aric. "Here, carry these out to the carriage, if you will." They were bulky but light; probably potion ingredients. Lupin picked up the remaining parcels, and Bleddri grabbed the box, which made clinking noises as he lifted it.

"What are these, anyway?" Aric asked, as they stowed away the packages in the carriage.

"These are bottles of Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin said, tapping the box. "Severus sent over some of the extra stock he had on hand, but he didn't have time to brew more this month, due to...er...his family situation. He's only made enough for Lukas and myself. Fortunately, now that the Ministry has fully funded the Distribution Program, we can purchase the potion from other sources, and don't need to rely as heavily on Severus as we used to."

"And the parcels?" Aric asked. 

"Ingredients for the Wolfsbane Potion," Bleddri replied. "We have a couple of volunteers skilled enough to brew it. They have full-time jobs to attend to, though, so they don't have time to brew enough for the entire Distribution Program, which is why we buy some from Slug & Jiggers and St. Mungo's."

They pulled up behind the clinic and carried the packages in; a pretty young woman with spiky black hair came out to help them. Bleddri greeted her with familiarity and affection, so Aric supposed she was probably another werewolf. She certainly had a lycanthrope's strength, and picked up a heavy box filled with potion bottles as if it weighed nothing.

"Thanks, Kyra, but don't you have to work today?" Bleddri asked.

"I don't start for another hour, but it's good that you and Remus came by; we're a little shorthanded today, and it's always busy during the week of the full moon."

"You found a job?" Lupin asked. "That's wonderful!"

The girl grinned, exposing sharp canine teeth; yes, she was definitely a werewolf. "Yeah, down the street over at the Magical Menagerie. Guess they figured I'd be good with animals, seeing as I'm part wolf myself." She seemed to be more amused than offended by the idea. "Personally, I prefer dealing with animals over humans any day of the week." She smiled at Aric and said, "Need a familiar? I can get you a discount."

Bleddri gave Aric a hard look, and mindful of his teacher's earlier admonition to be civil, all he said was, "Thank you, but not right now."

"Oh, where are my manners?" Lupin exclaimed. "Kyra, this is my student, Aric Dietrich. Aric, this is Kyra Lowell." He grinned. "Which is, incidentally, a French name meaning 'little wolf'."

"An alias?" Aric asked, then remembered what Bleddri had said in Interspecies Relations about werewolves not liking to discuss their past. "Uh...never mind; it's none of my business."

But Kyra just laughed. "Yes, it's just a little inside joke. Lukas helped me pick out that name after my family disowned me. I liked the idea of using a name that meant 'wolf' without people realizing that I really was one. By the way, Remus, Brian got a letter from his nephew the other day. He was so happy; I can't thank you enough for patching things up between them." Lupin's eyes flickered over to Aric, and Kyra quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, there's a visitor out front who'd like to see you, Remus. We can put away the supplies later."

Aric followed the werewolves, wondering who the nephew was that Lupin had patched things up with. If he didn't want Aric hearing about it, that must mean that this nephew was another Hogwarts student. _Interesting,_ he thought to himself, trying to guess which one of his classmates might be related to a werewolf. Of course, it could be someone in a completely different House or year...

They passed through the back of the clinic into the waiting room at the front, and found a tall man with long black hair waiting for them. He was handsome, but his face was a little gaunt and looked rather worn--the result of spending over a decade in Azkaban, no doubt, because he recognized that face from the pages of the Daily Prophet.

"Moony!" Sirius Black shouted joyfully, and gave Lupin a hug.

"Sirius!" Lupin said, hugging him back. "What a pleasant surprise; I didn't expect to see you here today!"

"Yes, well, as Head of Werewolf Support Services, I thought I ought to visit the clinics participating in the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program."

"Branwen told me about your new job," Lupin said, giving Black another hug. "Oh, Padfoot, I'm so proud of you! I think it's wonderful! By the way, this is Aric Dietrich--Rafe's nephew. Aric, this is my friend, Sirius Black."

"Yes, Branwen has told me all about you," Black said, giving Aric a measuring look, and Aric wondered what Professor Blackmore had told him. But then Black just smiled, politely if cautiously, and said, "Nice to meet you. Your uncle was a friend of mine."

Aric wasn't sure how to respond to that, but Lupin spared him from having to reply by saying, "So how's the job going, Sirius?"

"I'm enjoying it," Black said, "although dealing with the bureaucrats and all the red tape drives me nuts! Arthur's pretty much given me free reign, but there are some grumblings about how much we're spending on the Distribution Program and Werewolf Support in general. Quiet grumblings, because the werewolves are still regarded as heroes of the war, but..."

"That will wear off eventually," Bleddri said grimly.

"So I'm trying to think of ways to make the Program more self-supporting," Black continued.

"And how do you intend to do that, Black?" Bleddri asked caustically. "Do you expect us to sell our blood and fur to potions shops?"

"Get a grip, Bleddri; of course not!" Black said indignantly. "Cassidy thought we could sell these; it's his latest invention." He opened a large cardboard box and set what looked like a plush toy wolf cub on the counter. It had fuzzy gray fur, and was impossibly cute and cuddly looking. "Up!" Black said, tapping it on the nose, and the toy came to life. It barked, did a back flip, chased its tail, and then when Lupin bent down to get a closer look, licked him on the face.

Lupin laughed. "That actually feels a little wet; very realistic!" He picked up the toy wolf, and it snuggled against him, wagging its tail vigorously. 

Bleddri regarded the toy with disgust. "How do you turn it off?" he asked sourly.

Black tapped it on the nose and said, "Down!" and the wolf suddenly became an inanimate plush toy again. "So what do you think?" Black asked. "It's the perfect pet--you don't have to feed it or walk it, and you can put it away when you're done playing with it."

"It's adorable," Lupin said. "I'm sure it will be a big hit."

"Plush toy werewolves?" Bleddri asked incredulously. "Come on, Remus, doesn't that offend you just the slightest bit?"

"No," Lupin replied cheerfully.

"It's not actually a werewolf," Black added helpfully. "It doesn't transform."

"It is kind of cute," Kyra giggled.

"KYRA!" Bleddri howled, looking outraged.

"Well, perhaps it will make us seem less threatening to people," she pointed out practically. "No one could possibly be scared of something that looks like that."

"I'd rather be thought of as a monster than a plush toy!" Bleddri shouted.

"Look, Lukas," Black said, "I can understand why you don't want to be thought of as cuddly, but Cassidy didn't mean any offense, and he intends to donate all the profits to the Distribution Program and other Werewolf Support programs. And if these toys sell as well as his music boxes and recording spheres, that could turn out to be quite a large sum of money..."

Bleddri let out an exasperated sigh. "Plush werewolves," he muttered. "What's next, vampire dolls? Wind-up Dementors?"

Black started pulling more toy wolves out of the box and began lining them up on the counter; they all looked the same except for the color of their fur: brown, black, white, and a peculiar shade of pale yellow-brown that might have looked blond on a human. 

Kyra giggled again. "I think this one is supposed to be you, Lukas," she said, patting the yellow wolf.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Bleddri roared, and Aric found himself cringing. "Dammit, Black, your friend can sell his toy wolves, but I will not have one modeled after me!"

"So who says it's you?" Black asked innocently, but there was a little gleam of mischief in his dark eyes.

"Normal wolves don't have blond fur," Bleddri said sarcastically. 

"Fine," Black said, picking up the blond wolf cub. "I'll tell Cassidy to stick to gray, brown, black, and white." He started to put it back in the box, but Kyra asked, "Can I keep it?"

"No!" Bleddri snarled, baring his teeth.

Kyra shrugged. "No need to be so grumpy, oh mighty Pack Leader."

Black took out his wand, uttered a brief incantation, and the toy's blond fur changed to black. "Here you go," he said, handing it to Kyra.

She accepted it, but said, "I liked it better the other way."

Lupin chuckled and stroked the brown cub. "Is this one supposed to be me? Tell Cass he needs to add some gray to it!"

"The people who come to this clinic don't have money to buy fancy toys," Bleddri grumbled sulkily. 

"Oh, these are just some of the prototypes," Black said. "Cassidy was waiting for your approval before starting to mass produce them, but he said we could give these away to the children who come to the clinic."

Bleddri's expression softened slightly. "Oh, all right," he said grudgingly.

"He'll be sending out a few samples to toy and gift shops to drum up interest," Black said. "And then he should have the first batch ready to hit the stores in a few weeks."

"That's great, Sirius," Lupin said enthusiastically. "I'm sure they'll be very popular, especially with Christmas coming up in a few months. It could be THE hot toy to have this Christmas!"

"Ho ho ho," Bleddri said sourly. "Come on, Dietrich, let's get to work. The rest of you can join us when you're through playing with your dollies."

Aric obediently followed Bleddri to the back of the clinic, and helped him carry the boxes and packages into a storeroom. A young man poked his head out of the door of another room as they walked by. He was tall and slim, with a long black plait hanging down his back, and he was wearing lime-green robes and a pair of gold wire-rimmed spectacles that kept sliding down his nose. He absent-mindedly pushed them back up closer to his brown, almond-shaped eyes and said in a mild voice, "My goodness, what is all the commotion about?"

Lupin came up behind them chuckling. "Oh, Sirius was just showing us Cassidy's toy wolves. Lukas doesn't approve."

The young man laughed. "Lukas, my friend, you don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"

Bleddri growled irritably. "I wasn't aware that I needed one."

The young man just smiled; Aric noticed that he had a gentle and good-natured demeanor not unlike Lupin's. "It's not necessary, but it does make life more pleasant."

"Are you a werewolf, too?" Aric asked. Perhaps he was prying, but this wizard didn't seem to be the type who was easily offended.

Lupin said, "Oh, excuse me! Aric, this is Takeshi Kimura, a mediwizard from St. Mungo's who volunteers at the clinic. Takeshi, this is my student, Aric Dietrich, from Hogwarts."

Kimura smiled and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you. It's good of you to help out today."

Aric opened his mouth to say that he hadn't been given any choice in the matter, but Bleddri kicked him in the shin and glared at him. So he shook the mediwizard's hand and mumbled, "It's nothing."

Kimura's dark eyes sparkled with laughter, but he just replied politely, "To answer your question, no, I am not a werewolf, but my parents, who run the Sakura restaurant, were sponsors of the original Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program."

"They were one of the first ones to sign up, along with my friend Cassidy," Lupin said, smiling warmly at the mediwizard. "The Sakura is an excellent restaurant; ever been there, Aric?" Aric shook his head. "Then perhaps I'll treat you to lunch after we're done here." Lupin winked at him. "Providing you do a good job, of course."

Aric chose not to dignify that with a response, and Bleddri said, "There aren't many human mediwizards or Healers willing to work with werewolves, so Takeshi has been a great help. Besides seeing patients, he also brews the Wolfsbane Potion for us. Which reminds me, we brought over the ingredients from Slug & Jiggers."

"Wonderful!" Kimura said with a smile. "I'll get started on a batch right away, then." To Aric, he said, "To be honest, that's my main job here. I do tend injuries and illnesses, of course, but werewolves heal so quickly that they rarely need my help--except for people who have just been infected by an attack. A werewolf's healing powers don't seem to fully kick in until their first transformation. Fortunately, with the Wolfsbane Potion widely available now, such attacks are rare." He sighed sadly. "Of course, with the high poverty rate among werewolves, malnutrition, depression, and drug addiction are commonplace, and not as easy to treat as a broken arm or a case of the flu." Then his expression brightened a little. "But things have been getting better since the equal rights bill was passed."

"Professor Lupin said that the clinic was open to any needy wizard, werewolf or not," Aric said. "Don't you have any human patients?"

"A few," Kimura said with a sad smile. "Mostly spouses or children of my werewolf patients. Only the most destitute humans, who have nowhere else to turn, are willing to come to 'the werewolf clinic,' as we are unofficially dubbed. Of course there is no danger, since all the werewolves who come here are taking the Wolfsbane Potion, but fear is not a rational thing, I suppose."

"Why aren't you afraid to work with werewolves?" Aric asked curiously.

Kimura smiled gently at him. "The Japanese do not fear the shapeshifters the way you British wizards do. The wolf was once regarded as a divine creature in my homeland."

Aric stared incredulously at his teachers; it was difficult to think of the irritable Bleddri in his shabby clothes and the cheerful, chirpy Lupin as godlike. Lupin grinned and winked at him again. Aric shook his head and asked Kimura, "You're Japanese? I mean, as in from Japan? You speak perfect English."

"Well, I was born in Japan," the mediwizard said, "but actually I've spent most of my life in England, although I do return home to visit my relatives during the summers. I even went to Hogwarts; I graduated a couple of years ago. You must be a transfer student, because I don't remember seeing you there."

"From Durmstrang," Aric replied, then asked in a dry voice, "Which House were you in? Let me guess; you're an idealist, so it must be Gryffindor."

Kimura laughed. "No, Ravenclaw. And let ME guess--with such cynicism, you can only be a Slytherin." Aric grudgingly smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgment.

Bleddri clapped his hand on Aric's shoulder and said, "Well, Mr. Dietrich is serving detention today, so we'd better get him back to work," but in a good-natured manner. For some reason that he couldn't quite explain, Aric suddenly felt annoyed with his teacher for revealing that he was here as part of his punishment rather than as a real volunteer, even though Aric himself had been about to say the same thing before Bleddri had kicked him earlier.

Aric sullenly returned to helping Bleddri with the packages they had brought with them in the carriage. The potion ingredients went to Kimura, who went off, presumably to start the Wolfsbane Potion. The bottles of pre-made potion went onto shelves in the storeroom, the boxes of food into the pantry, and the boxes of clothing they opened and began sorting by size and type. "Isn't this a health clinic?" Aric asked as he placed a neatly folded child-sized robe onto a stack of similar-sized robes.

"Technically, yes," Lupin replied, as he sorted through a pile of secondhand robes, a little faded and out of fashion, but still sturdy and in good condition. "But it also serves as a distribution point for food and clothing donations."

"One-stop shopping," Bleddri said, with a slightly bitter smile.

"There's no shame in accepting help when you need it," Lupin said quietly. 

"So says Mr. I'd-rather-live-alone-in-my-shack-in-the-woods-than-accept-charity-from-my-friends," Bleddri said sarcastically, but looked guilty when Lupin flinched. "Sorry, Remus," he said apologetically. 

"You're right," Lupin told him, still in that quiet voice. "I let my pride get the best of me, and I spurned the efforts of the friends who would have helped me. But I could afford to, because although I was poor, I had my cottage and my garden and my meager income from my intermittent translation jobs, and I knew that I wouldn't starve. And it was more than pride that caused me to hide away from the world, Lukas. The people I cared most about had either died or turned against me: James, Lily, Peter, Sirius, and Severus." He looked up, a sad, crooked smile on his face. "Since bad things seemed to happen to my friends, I thought perhaps it would be better, for them and for me, to keep away from the few friends I had left."

"Remus," Bleddri said, shaking his head.

"I know, I know," Lupin laughed. "Don't worry, Branwen gave me a very stern lecture on self-pity awhile back!" He turned to Aric, who was staring at him thoughtfully. "Anyway, I do tell the werewolves who come here not to be ashamed of accepting help, and that they can return the favor to others when their fortunes improve. That way it isn't really charity, you see?"

Aric said nothing, continuing to fold and stack clothing in silence. He wasn't sure why it should bother him that Lupin had apparently lived in poverty and lonely solitude for many years. He told himself that he didn't care, but somehow that silent inner voice didn't sound convincing, even to himself. 

Lupin seemed to feel guilty about the fates of his friends, although from what Aric had read in the Daily Prophet, most of the fault belonged to Peter Pettigrew, who had sold his friends out to Voldemort, and a little to Black, who had switched places as the Potters' Secret Keeper with Pettigrew in the first place; Lupin didn't seem to have any direct involvement in the matter, at least, not officially. Aric had no idea what might have transpired between him and Snape in the past, although they had clearly patched up whatever differences they'd had. Then Aric wondered if he would hate Theo less if his cousin seemed to show more guilt and remorse over their uncle's death, and suddenly he could hear Theo's voice saying, "You cannot possibly hate me more than I hate myself." So...Theo did feel guilty, but that didn't really make Aric feel any better.

_I hate Theo!_ he told himself. _I won't feel sorry for him; I'll make him pay!_ He determinedly resolved not to let Lupin's softheartedness rub off on him and distract him from his revenge. Bleddri watched him with narrowed eyes, but Lupin seemed to take no notice of Aric's brooding, and blithely filled up the silence with cheerful small talk, chattering about how cute the toy wolf cubs were, Kyra's upcoming wedding to someone named Brian, how wonderfully romantic Black's wedding to Blackmore had been, as had Percy Weasley's wedding to Penelope Clearwater, on and on, ad nauseam until Aric wanted to strangle him. 

Even Bleddri was beginning to look annoyed. "I can't understand what a cynical, jaded Slytherin like Snape is doing with a chirpy Gryffindor idealist like you, Remus," he said.

"Opposites attract," Lupin said, grinning. 

Just then, Black called out cheerfully, "Hey, Moony, we've got a customer!"

Aric followed Lupin and Bleddri out front to find a dark-haired woman dressed in shabby but clean robes, and a small, dark-haired boy who was laughing and squirming as Kyra hugged and tickled him. When the boy spotted them, he broke away from Kyra and ran towards them, shouting, "Uncle Lukas!"

"Uncle Lukas?" Aric muttered incredulously as Bleddri laughed, scooped the boy up and tossed him in the air.

"Lukas, please!" the woman protested as the boy landed safely in Bleddri's arms, but the boy shrieked with laughter, shouting, "Do it again, Uncle Lukas!"

Bleddri tossed the boy up one more time, gave him a hug, and then set him back down on the floor, much to his disappointment. He gave the boy's mother--at least, Aric assumed she was the mother--a hug as well, saying, "Good to see you, Rachel. Come to get more of the potion?"

"Yes, please."

"And what about you, Max?" Bleddri said, kneeling down to pat the boy on the head. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he said, then suddenly sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Max!" Rachel shouted in exasperation. "I told you to use your handkerchief!" She pulled one out of her own pocket and bent down to wipe his face with it. "He has a bit of a cold, nothing serious."

"Well, why don't we let Takeshi take a look at him while we get your potion?" Lupin suggested.

While the mediwizard examined the boy, Bleddri gave Aric an empty basket and told him to put six bottles of Wolfsbane Potion in it. That still left the basket more than half-empty, and Aric asked, "Shouldn't we add some padding or put them in a smaller basket? They might break, rattling around like that."

"Don't worry, I intend to fill it up," Bleddri replied. He added an adult-sized robe, a few articles of children's clothing, and some food--a loaf of bread, a small smoked ham, and a wedge of cheese. Everything now fit snugly together in the basket.

Aric carried the basket back to the examining room, where Kimura declared, "No fever; it's nothing serious, just a minor cold, as you said, but you can give him this tea twice a day to ease the symptoms." He added a small brown paper package to the basket Aric was holding, then after pausing to think for a moment, also added a small jar of honey. "To sweeten the taste," he said with a smile.

"Oh, good!" Max said. "Your medicine usually tastes yucky!"

"Max!" his mother snapped.

"Unfortunately, medicine usually does taste 'yucky'!" Kimura laughed. "But the honey should make it bearable. And here, this is for you, since you were such a good patient." He handed the boy a lollipop.

"Thanks, Uncle Takeshi!"

Aric handed the basket to Rachel, who flushed, looking a little embarrassed. "Thank you," she said to Bleddri. "I've just started working at the Leaky Cauldron as a maid, so I won't have to take handouts much longer."

"It's not a handout!" Bleddri growled sternly. "We are pack, and pack look after each other. Those of the pack who are employed always share with those who are not."

"But this is not coming just from the pack," Rachel protested. "It's coming from the Ministry."

"Yes, and the Ministry owes it to you," Black said grimly as he appeared in the doorway. "Since it's the Ministry's fault that werewolves were virtually banned from finding employment."

"Don't be so damned proud," Bleddri chided the female werewolf. "You have a cub to feed. And if it makes you feel better, you can come and volunteer at the clinic on your days off."

"I'll do that," Rachel said, looking more at ease. 

"It just so happens that I could use some help right now," Black said in a more cheerful tone to Max. "I have some toys that need testing." The boy eagerly followed him back out to the waiting room, where Black showed him the toy wolves. "My friend made these toys, and now they need good homes. Why don't you go ahead and pick one out?"

After a great deal of deliberation, Max decided on the brown wolf, and Lupin grinned proudly. Black showed him how to turn the toy on and off, and the boy laughed as the plush wolf barked and licked his face.

"What a delightful toy," Rachel laughed, smiling indulgently at her son.

"Am I the only one who's offended by those things?" Bleddri muttered grumpily.

"You've done me a big favor," Rachel confided to Black as Max played happily with his new toy. "He's been pestering me for a pet, but I don't have the money to feed one or the time to look after it. This is perfect."

"What did I tell you?" Black said to Bleddri with a smug smile; the werewolf leader just scowled.

"By the way, Lukas," Rachel said earnestly, "I just want to tell you that we're all so proud of you. Imagine, one of us, a teacher at Hogwarts!"

"Two of us, actually," Bleddri said, looking very embarrassed. "Remus was already teaching there, after all."

"How is it going?"

"Er--"

"Oh, he's doing just fine!" Lupin answered for Bleddri in a chirpy tone, and his colleague glared at him. "The students really respect him!"

"They must," Rachel said with a smile, glancing at Aric, who was wearing his Hogwarts uniform, "if they're coming in to volunteer at the clinic in their spare time."

Lupin, still smiling sweetly, stepped hard on Aric's foot, and Aric decided it was best if he kept his mouth shut. Bleddri gave them both a sardonic smile.

"Maybe you'll be teaching Max in a few years," Rachel continued, still blithely unaware of the unspoken messages being sent between Lupin, Aric, and Bleddri. 

"I look forward to it," Bleddri said, then muttered under his breath, "assuming I still have a job then." And then it was Bleddri's turn to wince as Lupin stepped on his foot.

Rachel and Max said goodbye, departing with the basket and the toy wolf. After they left, Aric said, "I thought that Kimura--" Bleddri gave him a stern look. "--I mean, Mr. Kimura said that werewolves heal quickly and usually don't need his services."

"Max is human," Bleddri said. "His mother was bitten after he was born."

"And the father?" Aric asked.

"No longer in the picture," Bleddri said in a bitter voice, and Aric supposed that meant he had abandoned his wife after she was infected. "But that's none of your business. Come on, Mr. Dietrich; let's get back to work."

"But if the boy wasn't infected, why wouldn't the father have kept his son?" Aric asked, unwilling to let the matter drop, for some reason. It seemed dishonorable and incredibly unfair for a father to abandon his son. But then, hadn't he told his whiny Potions classmates that the world wasn't fair?

"Tainted by association," Bleddri said darkly.

"Much as Theo, Dylan, Draco, and the other Death Eaters' children are tainted by association because of their parents' crimes even if they did nothing wrong themselves," Lupin said softly. Aric scowled and said nothing in reply.

Several more werewolves stopped by during Aric's detention period to pick up Wolfsbane Potion and in some cases, food and clothing. Most of them seemed amused by the plush toy wolves; one just snorted when he saw them. When Aric wasn't filling their orders, he helped Kimura with the Wolfsbane Potion. Although he was a good Potions student, he had never worked on the Wolfsbane Potion before, and it wasn't the sort of thing that could be entrusted to someone unfamiliar with it, so the extent of his help was mainly that he stirred the cauldron and chopped roots. Bleddri watched him like a hawk the entire time, no doubt to make sure he didn't slip some poison into the cauldron or something. 

He needn't have worried, though; while Aric wasn't fond of werewolves, he didn't want to kill them, either. His grudge was solely with the Death Eaters and his cousin. Although Lupin was the lover of a former Death Eater who just happened to be Theodore's new father...but on the other hand, even if he did have bad taste in lovers, Aric could not by any stretch of the imagination picture Lupin being involved with the Death Eaters. Did he really want to hurt Lupin, if the opportunity somehow arose? Surprisingly, the answer was "no"--well, mostly. Aric occasionally got the urge to smack Lupin when he got overly chirpy (on purpose, Aric was sure), but he didn't really want to do him any permanent damage, not even to indirectly hurt Theo. 

Aric groaned and rubbed his temples, and Kimura looked up in concern. "Are you all right, Aric?" he asked.

"Just a headache," Aric said sullenly.

"The fumes of the potion can be a bit overwhelming to someone who's not used to them," the mediwizard said sympathetically.

"Well, you're in luck, Aric," Lupin said with a smile. "The two hours are up; your detention's over."

"Wait a moment!" Kimura said, then scooped some dried herbs out of a large glass jar into a small paper bag. He handed the bag to Aric, saying, "Some herbal tea for your headache; an old family remedy."

Aric reluctantly accepted it; his headache had not been caused by the potion fumes, nor was it likely to go away anytime soon, but he could hardly tell the mediwizard that. After Bleddri gave him a pointed glare, he added, "Thank you, Mr. Kimura."

"Oh, thank _you_ ," Kimura said with a sunny smile; Aric was still having trouble believing that he hadn't been a Gryffindor. "You were a big help today. And please call me Takeshi; everyone else does."

"Uh, sure," Aric said, although since it was highly unlikely that he would ever come back here, he probably wouldn't have the chance to call the mediwizard by that name or any other.

"If you do stop by the Sakura," Takeshi called out as they left, "please give my regards to Mother and Father." 

"We'll be sure to do that!" Lupin said cheerfully as he waved goodbye. Once they were seated inside the carriage, he told Aric, "Well, I did promise you lunch, and you did work hard today."

"Yes, and he even minded his manners," Bleddri grudgingly conceded. "Mostly."

"The Sakura," Lupin said, and the carriage started moving.

"Er...that's not really necessary, Professor," Aric said. Having lunch with his teachers was not exactly Aric's idea of a good time. "Besides, my detention is supposed to be over."

"It's not detention," Lupin pointed out with a smile. "It's a free lunch! And besides, even if we went straight back to Hogwarts right now, lunch would still be half-over by the time we got there, so we might as well get something to eat first."

Bleddri shrugged and leaned back against his seat, so Aric resigned himself to dining with the two werewolves. They were greeted at the restaurant by a beautiful Japanese woman; she looked like something out of a storybook. Her sleek, glossy black hair fell to her waist and was tied off near the end with a bit of gold cord fashioned into an elaborate knot, and she was dressed in an elegant silk kimono printed in a flower design.

"Professor Lupin, Master Bleddri, how nice to see you today!"

"Good afternoon, Haruko," Lupin replied. "We just came from the clinic; Takeshi says hello."

Aric stared at her in surprise; the woman didn't look old enough to have a nineteen or twenty year-old son, but apparently she did.

Haruko smiled proudly. "Takeshi's a good boy; a very hard worker."

"He is indeed," Bleddri said, "and we're very grateful to him for his work at the clinic."

Haruko smiled warmly at them. "And is this one of your students?"

"Yes, he was...ah...volunteering at the clinic today," Lupin said. "This is Aric Dietrich. Aric, this is Haruko Kimura, Takeshi's mother and the proprietor of this restaurant."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Dietrich," Haruko said, bowing to him. Startled, Aric awkwardly bowed back. 

She led them to a small private room where they seated themselves on the floor at a low table. Lupin ordered for them; Aric was afraid it would be something weird like raw fish, but the food was actually pretty good: a slightly sweetish soup that Lupin called "miso," strips of grilled beef and chicken served with rice, shrimp deep-fried in some sort of light batter, and small dishes of pickled vegetables that tasted a little odd but weren't really bad. He had some problems at first with the chopsticks, but after Bleddri snickered the first time, Aric paid more attention to Lupin's patient instructions, and managed to get through the meal without spilling food on his robes. For dessert, there was mochi--sweet, soft, sticky rice cakes that tasted good, although the texture seemed a little gluey to Aric; if they were any stickier they could glue your mouth shut. He washed the stickiness out of his mouth with a cup of tea.

Lupin paid the bill, and Haruko gave him a white cardboard box. "Some mochi for you to take home to Professor Snape," she said with a smile.

Lupin thanked her and they left. "So Snape is famous for his sweet tooth even outside of Hogwarts?" Bleddri laughed when they were back in the carriage.

"Well, he has been a regular customer there for many years," Lupin said, grinning, "back when he was using the Portkey there to travel to Japan to consult with Kamiyama on the Wolfsbane Potion." Noticing the startled look on Aric's face, he added, "Severus worked together with a Japanese wizard named Naoto Kamiyama to develop the Wolfsbane Potion, but he kept his role in it secret until after the war was over."

"Oh, right," Aric said. "I think I read something about it in the Daily Prophet. I suppose he invented it because of you?"

"I certainly hope so," Lupin said jokingly. "I'd hate to think that he was fooling around with another werewolf!"

When they arrived back at Hogwarts, Lupin said, "Well, thanks for your help today, Aric."

"You don't have to thank me," Aric said. "I only did it because you forced me to."

Lupin smiled. "Still, whatever the reasons, you did a good job, and I appreciate it. Perhaps we can do it again sometime."

"I'm going to try to avoid getting detention from now on," Aric said dryly.

Lupin laughed gently. "I thought perhaps you might want to volunteer next time."

"Not likely!" Aric snorted, and his teachers let him depart without further comment. But secretly, he had to admit, that it hadn't really been all that bad. Watching Bleddri's reaction to the toy wolves had been very amusing, and working on the Wolfsbane Potion had been interesting. Aric still hadn't decided what sort of job to look for after he graduated; perhaps he should consider becoming a potion-brewer, or even a mediwizard like Rafe had been. Maybe he would go back sometime, to ask Takeshi what the job was like...

*** 

Neither Blaise nor Theodore really felt like going to the library after talking to Lupin--it had only been an excuse to follow Aric, after all--so Blaise suggested that they go for a walk. It was a beautiful day for it; the sky was clear and sunny, and the air was crisp and cool. They wandered aimlessly across the school grounds towards the lake.

"I can't believe my slimy git cousin is volunteering at the clinic," Theodore grumbled.

"Being coerced, actually, remember?" Blaise reminded him. "If it makes you feel any better, I doubt that he's enjoying himself."  Theodore smirked. "True. He's a typical pureblood snob, considers werewolves to be beneath him and all that. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll mouth off to the werewolves at the clinic, and one of them will eat him."

"Theodore!" Blaise scolded, but he was laughing.

"No, you're right," Theodore said with a grin. "He might give the werewolf indigestion."

Blaise just laughed and shook his head. "Well, at least we know he was just serving detention, and wasn't doing anything sneaky."

"Aric's middle name is 'sneaky,'" Theodore said. "I still think he's up to something. Surely he didn't transfer from Durmstrang just to make my life miserable." He paused to think. "Well, actually, maybe he would..."

"Please, let's forget about Aric for just a little while," Blaise urged. "We know he's serving detention at the clinic, so at least he'll be out of our hair for a couple of hours. Let's just enjoy it."

"Okay, I guess you're right," Theodore agreed. They walked together in amiable silence; there were a few other couples strolling by the lake holding hands. One girl had stripped off her shoes and socks and was cautiously dipping one foot in the water. She leaped back, shrieking, "It's cold!" Her male companion laughed, and she bent down to playfully splash water at him. Soon they were both kneeling at the water's edge, laughing and squealing and shouting as they splashed cold water at each other. "Idiots," Theodore said, but Blaise stared at them wistfully. 

"I wish we could hold hands in public like those other couples," Blaise whispered into Theo's ear.

"After we graduate," Theodore whispered back to him in a comforting tone. "Then it won't matter who knows. As long as you're sure your family won't disown you."

"I can handle my parents. Are you sure Lady Selima won't disown you?"

"I don't care what she thinks. Besides, the Professor will probably be the head of the Snape family by then." Theodore gazed out at the Forbidden Forest. "It was nice, though, wasn't it, the time we went walking through the woods together at Remus's cottage?"

"Very nice," Blaise agreed with a smile, recalling what had happened...

*** 

It was Blaise's first visit to Theodore's new home, and after some informal Quidditch practice, they slipped away from their friends to take a walk in the woods and spend some time alone together--the first chance they'd had to be alone since school had let out.

"There's nothing dangerous in these woods, is there?" Blaise asked a little nervously.

"It's not the Forbidden Forest," Theodore said in a reassuring tone. "We go walking through the woods all the time with Lupin. He wouldn't let us come out here if it wasn't safe." He grinned and added, "Dylan and I go for long walks by ourselves when Snape and Lupin...uh...want to be alone."

Blaise laughed, then did something he'd been wanting to do for a long time: he reached out and clasped Theodore's hand in his own. He envied the couples who were able to walk freely around Hogwarts holding hands, even kissing in the hallways between classes at times. Blaise smiled at Theodore, feeling strangely shy and hesitant; it was a little odd to realize that although they'd had sex, they had never held hands like this before. 

Theodore glanced at Blaise, looking startled but pleased, and blushed. He interlaced his fingers through Blaise's, gave his hand a little squeeze, and said in a soft voice, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Theo," Blaise said. "I'm sorry about what my dad did."

"You don't have to apologize," Theodore replied. "In fact, I'm the one who should apologize."

"Why?" Blaise asked him, feeling puzzled.

Theodore came to a halt and turned to face Blaise, still holding onto his hand. "It's just...I...I know that I haven't been very nice to you this past year," he stammered. "I yelled at you for asking questions about my family and the Death Eaters, I pushed you away when you were only trying to help me--"

"It's okay, Theo," Blaise said gently, reaching up to stroke his cheek with his free hand. "I understand why you did it."

"You do?"

"Of course. You were trying to protect me, weren't you? You didn't want me getting involved with the Death Eaters."

"Yes," Theodore said, sounding relieved. "You're not mad at me, then?"

"Of course not, you silly git!" Blaise said, feeling both protective and a little angry that Theo would doubt his love. He threw his arms around Theodore and pulled him close, saying, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Theodore whispered, holding Blaise tightly. "I'm so sorry about what happened in Hogsmeade, I was so scared..."

"It's my own fault for following you," Blaise admitted. He had known at the time that it was probably a bad idea, but he'd been worried about what Draco might be dragging Theo into. "But I was afraid Malfoy was going to get you into trouble."

"If anything had happened to you, I'd never have forgiven myself!" Theodore exclaimed.

Blaise pulled back a little so that he could look into Theodore's eyes, which were filled with guilt and fear. "It's thanks to you that I'm alive, Theo," he said solemnly; Theodore looked startled. "Snape told my father what really happened, that you stopped the Death Eaters from killing me."

"It was my fault that you were there in the first place--"

"No, I told you it was my fault."

"But--"

"If we're going to blame someone, let's blame the Death Eaters," Blaise suggested. "Everything turned out all right in the end. I'm alive, thanks to you. Let's leave it at that."

"My father had already killed one person I cared about," Theodore said in a shaky voice, his eyes filling with tears. "I couldn't let him do it again. I...I'd die if I lost you, Blaise."

"I'm all right, Theo," Blaise said tenderly, pulling his lover close as he began to tremble and the tears spilled out of his eyes. "I'm fine; everything's all right." He kissed away Theodore's tears, trailing light kisses down his cheek until his mouth brushed across Theodore's.

Without warning, Theodore suddenly deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between Blaise's lips. Blaise let out a muffled groan and returned the kiss hungrily, entwining his tongue with Theo's, the faint, salty taste of tears still lingering in his mouth. He suddenly felt flushed and overheated; every inch of his skin felt as if it were aflame, although most of the heat, obviously, was collecting in his groin.

After a long moment, they pulled apart, gasping for breath. "God, I've missed you!" Blaise exclaimed.

"I've missed you, too," Theodore said in a husky voice, and kissed him again, fumbling with the fastenings of his robes.

"Theodore!" Blaise protested, laughing nervously. "Just how secluded are these woods, anyway? Are you sure no one will come by?"

"Very secluded," Theodore assured him, kissing his neck and undoing another fastening. "The nearest village is miles away. No one ever comes here but us, and Dylan and the others know we want to be alone."

"Are you sure the Professors won't get a sudden urge to walk in the woods?" Blaise asked, still feeling nervous, his common sense warring against his desires. "I'm having visions of Snape blasting apart rose bushes at the Yule Ball..." That image did put a slight damper on things, but lust still seemed to gaining the upper hand over common sense.

Theodore grinned. "Since they have the house all to themselves, they're probably doing the same thing we're doing, only in the comfort of their own bed...although I try not to think about it too much."

"Well, if you're sure we won't be disturbed..." Blaise said hesitantly, but he'd already pretty much decided to give in.

Theodore took off his own robe, shook it out with a snap of his wrists, and carefully laid it out on the ground like a blanket. "I'm absolutely..." He pulled Blaise down to the ground with him. "...positively..." He kissed Blaise. "...sure." 

Blaise sealed Theo's mouth with an urgent kiss, and they began fumbling with each other's clothes, struggling to undo buttons and pull off shirts and pants. And then the last piece of clothing had been flung aside and their hands were sliding against bare skin as they continued to kiss, their tongues darting around each other frantically. Suddenly, Theodore sat up, breaking off the kiss.

"Theo!" Blaise groaned in protest.

"Just a minute, love," Theodore said, pulling up a corner of the robe-turned-blanket.

"What are you doing?" Blaise asked impatiently.

"Looking for something," Theodore replied distractedly as he groped at the robe until his hand slid into a pocket. "Ah, here it is!" He let the robe fall back to the ground and held up a small vial.

"You came prepared!" Blaise laughed, then pretended to be offended. "You were planning this; do you really think I'm that easy?"

"A good Slytherin is always prepared for any eventuality," Theodore said with a sly grin. He opened the vial and the sweet scent of lavender wafted out. "Such a handy thing, lavender oil," Theodore said in an almost conversational tone. "It's such a common potion and salve ingredient that a Potions student always has some on hand, and a Potions Master definitely always keeps a good supply in his house..."

Blaise groaned out loud as he felt first one, and then two oil-slicked fingers sliding inside him, gently probing. He moaned again, raising his hips to drive Theo's fingers in deeper. Theodore stared down at him, his face flushed and his eyes dark and intense with need. "I love you, Blaise," he whispered. "I love the way you want me." His fingers probed a little further, and Blaise let out an involuntary cry of pleasure; Theodore smiled, his tongue unconsciously darting out to lick his lips.

Blaise found himself licking his own lips in response; God, Theo was so unbelievably sexy, and he didn't even realize it! He reached up to grab Theo's face and pull it down for a kiss. "I love you, Theo," he whispered fiercely. "And I want you, I want you so much." He moaned, rocking his hips back and forth as Theo's fingers continued to slide in and out of him. "More, more," he whispered urgently, then gasped as he felt Theo's fingers gently stretching him open wider to accommodate a third finger. He groaned, his body bucking and thrashing in response to the adept movement of Theodore's fingers; Theo always seemed to know exactly how and where to touch Blaise and drive him wild with pleasure. He could hear Theo's breath coming in quick pants, could feel Theo's warm breath against his face. Blaise felt Theo kiss him, gently nipping at his lower lip, then suddenly, Theo sat up, pulling away from him.

A little groan of dismay escaped Blaise's lips, but it quickly changed to one of eagerness when he saw Theodore fumbling with the vial of oil again. He felt Theo pull his legs apart and then draw them over his shoulders. Blaise stared up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees above them, and was struck by the thought that making love outdoors felt very strange and yet erotic at the same time. He felt nervous and exposed; with no walls surrounding them, theoretically anyone could walk in on them although he knew that it wasn't very likely. 

But oddly enough, that excited him just as much as it made him nervous. The threat of being caught added to the thrill somehow, he supposed; he'd never understood some of his housemates' penchants for making out or even having sex in semi-public places, such as by the lake after dark or under the Quidditch stands, but now he did. And then he completely forgot what he had been thinking about as Theo entered him, slowly but steadily pushing inside him.

Blaise groaned, bending his knees and pressing his legs against Theo's back, trying to draw him in deeper. Theo began thrusting into him harder, and Blaise really hoped that they were far away enough from the cottage that no one could hear them, because he couldn't seem to stop himself from moaning and crying out loudly. "Theo, Theo, oh God, Theo!" he cried, calling his lover's name over and over.

Theodore moaned in a softer but no less eager voice, then whispered, "I love you, Blaise." With one last, hard thrust he came, and apparently realizing that Blaise had not, groped half-blindly with one hand to bring him to climax; as soon as Theo touched him, Blaise came, arching his back and crying out Theo's name again. 

Theodore leaned forward and kissed Blaise soundly, then disentangled himself and collapsed on the ground next to him, breathing heavily. Blaise rolled over on his side to maintain physical contact, throwing one arm across Theo's chest, and one leg across Theo's legs. Theodore reached up to stroke Blaise's hair and gently kissed the top of his head. "Love you, Blaise," he murmured.

"Love you, too, Theo."

They lay there in silence for awhile, content just to be together. It was a beautiful summer day, the sun just warm enough to be pleasant without being uncomfortably hot, and there was a gentle breeze blowing that dried the sweat on their skin. But finally, Theodore said reluctantly, "I suppose we should get back before someone comes looking for us."

Blaise sighed with equal reluctance, but the thought of Draco or worse, Snape, coming to look for them was enough motivation for him to get up and grab his clothes. Theodore was searching in the pocket of his robe again, saying, "Damn it, I should've taken my wand out first. I hope we didn't break it; I don't fancy explaining THAT to Professor Snape!"

Blaise laughed, and it turned out that the wand was fine. Theodore shook out his robe, dislodging most of the dirt and grass clinging to it, than cast a cleaning spell on it and themselves. Then they dressed and slowly walked back to join their friends.

Blaise winced as he rubbed the small of his back, only just now realizing that it was sore. "I think I was lying on a rock or something." Or maybe it had been Theo's wand; Blaise smiled in amusement at the thought.

"Sorry," Theodore said, kissing him on the cheek apologetically.

"Well, I guess I was too preoccupied to notice at the time," Blaise laughed.

They made their way back to the clearing near the cottage where their friends were waiting.

"Have a nice walk?" Dylan asked innocently.

Blaise couldn't help blushing, and he noticed that Theo's face was a little red as well.

"Very nice," Theodore said archly, trying to maintain his composure.

"You have grass in your hair," Damien told Blaise, who hastily began running his fingers through his hair. "Just kidding!" Damien laughed. "But now we know what you two were up to out there!"

"I'd think that was obvious, Pierce," Draco said, looking amused.

Theodore and Blaise turned even redder. "Watch it, Pierce, or you'll be coughing up slugs," Theodore threatened, but he didn't really look angry. He leaned over and whispered affectionately into Blaise's ear, "Silly git; there wouldn't be any grass in your hair because you were lying on my robe." Blaise looked up, still blushing furiously, but fortunately none of their friends seemed to have overheard that comment.

*** 

Blaise and Theodore grinned widely at each other, both of them recalling that day in clear and vivid detail. "Too bad we would be risking detention, not to mention our lives, if we went strolling through the Forbidden Forest," Theodore said regretfully.

"Well, we do have some time left before we have to meet Dean and Seamus," Blaise said casually. "We could go back to our room for a little while. Not quite as romantic a setting, perhaps, but much more private..."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Theodore exclaimed, and they ran back to the castle, laughing.

*** 

Draco slumped against the couch in the Slytherin common room, dispiritedly flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet, feeling restless and bored. Crabbe and Goyle had gone off to help Hagrid with the Thestrals; Dylan had a date with Granger; Theodore and Blaise had gone off together somewhere, to shag themselves silly, no doubt, or perhaps just for a romantic stroll by the lake; and Damien was probably off flirting with some girl. Ever since the war had ended, he'd taken advantage of the opportunity to flirt shamelessly with every pretty girl in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. He still flirted with the Slytherin girls, too, but he seemed most drawn to the Gryffindor girls; the allure of the forbidden and all that, Draco supposed.

But the end result was that all his friends were busy doing other things, and he had no one to hang out with. He wasn't quite the pariah that he'd thought he'd be, partly because Dietrich was so obnoxious that everyone's hostility was focused on him, but at the same time, while they weren't outright rude to him, most of the Slytherins seemed to be keeping him at a distance.

_Don't want the taint to rub off on them, I suppose,_ he thought sulkily. Or even worse, they thought he simply wasn't worth bothering with. He sighed heavily and flung the newspaper down on the floor.

"What's wrong with you?" a cool, detached voice asked, and Draco looked up into Serafina Avery's violet eyes.

"Nothing," Draco said, trying not to pout. "I'm just bored."

"I'm going to the library to study," Serafina said. "You're welcome to come with me, if you like."

"Going to the library on a Saturday; that sounds like a lot of fun," Draco said in a sulky voice.

"Have you got anything better to do?" Serafina asked.

"Not really," he admitted, and got up to join her.

They sat quietly together at a table in the back of the library, doing some research for Professor Blackmore's class. They were the only ones in this section; there seemed to be only a handful of students in the entire library. No doubt everyone else was off having fun...Draco sighed again.

"Will you quit doing that?" Serafina said, sounding just the slightest bit annoyed, and Draco felt oddly triumphant at having provoked an emotional reaction from her.

"Don't you miss it?" he asked.

"Miss what?"

"You know, being someone important, having a father with a high-status Ministry job."

"I don't miss my father," Serafina replied calmly. "I'm glad he's not able to hurt me or my mother--or anyone else--anymore." Then she gave him a suprisingly sympathetic look. "You miss your father, don't you?" she asked softly.

"I know I shouldn't," Draco said, staring down at the table. "But I do."

"It's okay to miss him, Draco."

"But he tried to kill me," Draco said in a low voice. "I should hate him. And I do; sometimes I get so mad at him that I could kill him myself if he were still alive. But...I love him, too. I don't want to, but I do." It was strange, but he felt comfortable discussing these things with Serafina. In a way, her emotionless demeanor made it easier; she listened intently, but rarely said much in response, which was fine, because all he really wanted was someone to listen. She never regarded him with scorn or, more importantly, with pity. Draco could stand being hated, but the one thing he could not stand was being pitied. 

Serafina remained silent, and Draco continued, "I've been thinking, and I can remember a few happy times: the time Dad bought Nimbus 2001 brooms for the team so that they'd make me Seeker, the time he took me to the Quidditch World Cup, and the time he arranged to meet me in Hogsmeade on Halloween after he escaped from Azkaban. He gave me a communication mirror so that he could send messages to me, and I was so proud that he trusted me enough to give me a role in his mission with the Death Eaters.

"But I remember other times, too. I remember that even though I got the highest grades in Slytherin, and the second-highest ranking for the entire school, he still yelled at me for letting Granger, a Mudblood girl, outdo me. I remember the disgusted look he always gave me when Gryffindor beat us--when Potter beat me to the Snitch--in our Quidditch matches. I remember that he wasn't there the one time we finally did win last year. Mother recorded the game so that he could see it, but when I tried to tell him about it, he didn't even care. I remember that he never once said he was proud of me, not once in my entire life." 

He gritted his teeth, feeling tears sting his eyes. "Lupin's told me that he's proud of me; a Gryffindor werewolf that I treated like dirt was always nicer to me than my own father." He angrily rubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his robe. "Why do I care about somebody like that? Why shouldn't I just be glad that he's dead?"

"Because it's natural to love your parents," Serafina said quietly. 

"Did you love your dad?" Draco whispered.

Serafina hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, I did, a long time ago."

"But not anymore?"

"No. I tried hard to please him, for a long time, but finally I realized that nothing I did would ever be good enough for him, because he wanted me to fail so that he would have an excuse to punish me. He liked hurting people. I watched him hurt me and my mother so many times that it finally killed my love for him." Her voice was still calm and cool, but there was just the slightest hint of something--sorrow? anger?--deep in her violet eyes.

"So why can't I stop loving my father?" Draco asked despairingly.

"Because you only just found out what he was really like," Serafina replied reasonably. "I've known what my father was like for years."

"Which makes me stupid, I guess," Draco said with a bitter little laugh.

Serafina was silent for a long moment, then said slowly, "I think Professor Lupin would say that you aren't stupid or a bad person for loving your father and wanting to believe the best of him. I think he would say that your father was the bad person for betraying your trust."

Draco cocked his head to one side, giving Serafina a puzzled look; he was unable to read the expression on her face. Then he smiled, a little shakily but sincerely, and said, "You're a strange girl, Avery."

Serafina smiled, just a little. "I know."

They studied together until it was time for lunch, then headed to the Great Hall together. By that time, all Draco's missing friends had returned, and he passed a pleasant hour discussing Quidditch with his teammates and watching Damien clown around to attract the girls' attention. By the way they giggled, it seemed to be working. Making things even more pleasant was the fact that Dietrich was absent--serving detention according to Theodore and Blaise. Slytherin was signed up to use the Pitch after lunch, so Draco and the rest of the team left the table, still laughing and talking.

Draco was concentrating on more on the conversation than where he was going, and bumped into a Ravenclaw boy, a fourth-year named Stewart Ackerley. Unfortunately, Ackerley had still been sipping from a glass of pumpkin juice as he was rising from his seat at the Ravenclaw table, and it spilled down the front of his robes.

Draco was in such a good mood that he actually said, "Sorry," but the Ravenclaw boy snarled, "Why don't you watch where you're going, Malfoy?"

"Why don't you watch where _you're_ going?" Draco snapped. The one time he'd tried being polite, and look what happened! And people wondered why Slytherins never bothered with politeness... In a haughty voice he added, "And you should mind your manners when you're speaking to a prefect, Ackerley!"

"Why don't you get off your high horse, you Death Eater scum?" Ackerley retorted. "You're not such a big shot now that your father's--"

"MR. ACKERLEY!" Snape roared in a thunderous voice, and both Draco and Ackerley nearly jumped right out of their robes; neither boy had heard him approaching. "That will be ten points from Ravenclaw. Now move along before I decide to give you detention as well."

"But he--" Ackerley protested.

"Fifteen," Snape said in a cold voice. "Would you like to make it twenty?"

Ackerley turned on his heel and stomped off. On his way out, he gave Flitwick an entreating look, but his Head of House only shook his head slightly. Ackerley glared at him as well, and ran out of the Great Hall. 

Draco stood there, still shaking with anger, but Snape laid a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, "You will encounter many ignorant and prejudiced people in your life, Draco. Hold your head high and don't give them the satisfaction of seeing that they've gotten to you. Nothing will disappoint them more than failing to get a reaction from you." Snape smiled and said dryly, "At least, that's been my experience from observing people insult Lupin." Draco managed a laugh, and Snape squeezed his shoulder. "Run along, then," he said. "You need to get to Quidditch practice if you're to help me win my bet against Professor McGonagall this year." This time the entire team laughed. Snape hesitated, glancing at Theodore for a moment, then said, "Perhaps I'll come along and watch, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Professor!" Draco said happily, and Theodore beamed at his father. "I'm sure it will inspire the team to work harder!"

*** 

Three pairs of eyes at the Hufflepuff table watched the Slytherin Quidditch team and their Head of House leave the Great Hall. Isabelle Laroque rose from her seat, and motioned for Susan Bones to follow her. She tapped Tristan Ames-Diggory on the shoulder in an unobtrusive way as she passed by him, and he gave her a curious look, then got up and followed the two older girls.

Not sure exactly what what they were doing, Susan followed her friend Isabelle as she went after, not Snape and the Slytherins, but Stewart Ackerley. They caught up with him as he was stalking down a corridor heading in the direction of the Ravenclaw dorm.

"Stewart!" Isabelle called.

He turned, scowling, but his expression softened a little when he spotted her; the pretty French-born girl was popular with all the boys. "What?" he asked, his voice gruff but not hostile.

"Can we talk?" Isabelle asked. 

"I've got to go change," Stewart said sullenly, indicating the large damp spot on his robes.

Isabelle took out her wand and cast a quick cleaning spell, leaving Stewart's robes clean and dry. "Now can we talk?" she asked calmly.

Stewart shrugged. "Okay."

"Not here," Isabelle said. "In private." She led them down the corridor, and they slipped into an empty, unused classroom.

"What if Filch or one of the teachers finds us here?" Stewart asked nervously.

"We'll just tell them that we were looking for a quiet place to study," Isabelle said. "The room wasn't locked, and there aren't any potions or supplies that we could tamper with." It was true; the room contained only desks and chairs, which was probably why no one had bothered locking it. "We aren't doing anything wrong."

"Then why are we meeting in secret?" Tristan asked with a wry smile.

Isabelle smiled back at him serenely. "Because this is a private conversation."

"So what did you want to talk about, Isabelle?" Susan asked curiously.

"All four of us have something in common," Isabelle replied. The other three stared at each other, puzzled. "We have all lost family members to the Death Eaters. Tristan, his cousin. Susan, her uncle and his family. Stewart--"

"My father was an Auror," he said bitterly. "He was killed during the final battle."

"Who did you lose?" Tristan asked Isabelle.

"My uncles, during the first war," Isabelle replied, her face still calm and composed. "The Death Eaters had threatened to wipe out the entire Prewett family, so my mother fled England in fear of her life. Even after the war ended, she was afraid to come back, since so many of the Death Eaters had been pardoned by the Ministry because they were supposedly under the influence of the Imperius Curse. It wasn't until Voldemort was finally killed that she felt it was safe to return home to England."

"It's not right!" Stewart burst out, clenching his hands into fists, "that people like Malfoy are walking around free when my father is dead!"

"And Snape," Tristan added. "And his so-called sons."

"B-but," Susan said uncertainly, "the Headmaster said that Snape was a spy, that he wasn't really a Death Eater."

"Do you really believe that?" Isabelle asked solemnly. "Do you really trust him? Maybe he changed sides, but who's to say whether he did it out of heroism or just self-preservation. That's what happened during the first war, you know. When the Death Eaters saw that their Master had fallen, they were all quick to switch sides and say how repentant they were, that they never meant to do it in the first place, that Voldemort had forced them with the Imperius Curse. And look how quickly they switched sides again when Voldemort returned. Maybe Snape was just a little smarter than the rest of them; he saw how things were going to turn out, and he threw his lot in with the winning side."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Susan said hesitantly. "I--I want to believe the Headmaster and Professor Lupin, that he really is a good person. But..."

"But something inside you isn't sure," Isabelle finished in a gentle voice. "You don't quite trust him."

Susan nodded reluctantly. "But Professor Lupin loves him; I can't believe that he'd be with Snape if he was really a Death Eater."

"Lupin's an okay guy," Stewart agreed, "but he's softhearted, and apparently Snape was an old flame of his from their schoolboy days. So maybe Snape has him fooled. I'm not sure I trust Lupin's judgment anymore; look how cozy he is with the Slytherins." His face hardened. "I've heard from some of the other Aurors how Draco fought on the Death Eaters' side during the battle. He ought to be in Azkaban along with the rest of them!"

"But didn't he--" Susan started to say.

"Switch sides?" Stewart finished. "Yeah, supposedly, after his dad tried to kill him." Tristan looked startled. "Oh, you didn't hear about that?" Stewart asked, a malicious grin on his face. "Lucius Malfoy, that coward, tried to use his own son as a shield when Mad-Eye Moody cast a Killing Curse his way. Too bad he missed. Hmm..." Stewart looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, according to my father's colleagues, it was Snape and Lupin who saved Draco by knocking Moody's curse astray."

"And now Snape's adopted another Death Eater's son," Tristan said. "The Death Eaters look out for their own, I guess. So who's looking out for us? I can't stand all this talk about inter-House cooperation and Houses standing together! And Potter, the supposed hero of the war, telling the Daily Prophet that he had to 'embrace his Slytherin side' to defeat You-Know-Who--it makes me sick! All of a sudden we're supposed to be chummy with Slytherin and forget that they supported the Death Eaters! It's like they've forgotten about Cedric and all the other people who died!" A tear ran down his face, and Susan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Like my father," Stewart said softly.

"And my uncles," Isabelle said.

Susan bit her lip for a moment, then said, "And my Uncle Edgar and his family. Everyone is so happy that the war is over...I don't blame them; it is a great relief but...when I see people laughing and smiling, it seems like maybe they've forgotten that there are people who should be mourned as well."

"It's human nature," Isabelle said, "to want to forget about the bad times. No one wants to feel sad all the time. But still, we shouldn't forget the people who died, not just for their sakes, but for ours as well. Even though Voldemort is dead, that doesn't mean that we're safe. Not all the Death Eaters are dead. Rabastan Lestrange is on the run, and while the others are in prison, that doesn't mean they'll stay there; they've broken out of Azkaban twice before. And there are Death Eater sympathizers and family members who were never charged."

"But what are we supposed to do about it?" Stewart asked. "We're just kids."

Isabelle smiled. "The members of Dumbledore's Army were 'just kids,' too."

Susan's eyes widened. "That's why you were asking me about the D.A.! You want to start another secret club to...to..."

Tristan's eyes lit up. "To fight the remaining Death Eaters and expose those Slytherin scum for what they really are!"

"Now wait a minute!" Susan said, feeling alarmed. "We don't know that Snape and the Slytherin students are on the side of the Death Eaters! I mean, we might be suspicious, but we can't go attacking them if we're not sure--"

"No, of course not," Isabelle said soothingly. "That wasn't my intention. All I meant was that we should band together and watch them, to gather information and evidence. If they've really reformed, all well and good, but if they haven't...we'll be able to stop them before they put anyone else in danger."

"Oh," Susan said, relaxing a little. "Then I guess that's okay."

"What should we call ourselves?" Tristan asked eagerly.

"And where should we meet?" Stewart wondered. "This isn't the sort of thing we can talk about around other people."

"I was thinking...instead of D.A., how about R.A.?" Isabelle suggested. "The Remembrance Association, in honor of our dead loved ones who should not be forgotten. And if anyone asks, we can say that it's a history club, that we're studying great witches and wizards of the past."

"That's a great idea!" Stewart enthused. "History of Magic is so deadly boring that no one will want to join our club, so they'll leave us alone!"

"Hermione Granger might," Susan pointed out. "And we can't let her join the club; her boyfriend is a Slytherin and the son of a Death Eater."

Isabelle smiled. "She seems most preoccupied with her new romance. Between her studies, her friends, and her dates with Mr. Rosier, I doubt that she'll have time for other extracurricular activities."

"Will it be just us, then?" Stewart asked. "Or should we be trying to recruit other members?"

"I'm sure Dean would join," Susan said. "I'd hate to keep a secret from him, and I know he doesn't trust the Slytherins, either."

"I'd like to increase our membership," Isabelle said, "but we'll have to make sure that everyone who joins is trustworthy, and they'll have to swear an oath of secrecy."

"Corbin Talbott," Stewart said thoughtfully. "I think he might be a good candidate."

"Isn't he from a Slytherin family?" Tristan asked skeptically.

"Some of his relatives might have been Slytherins, but Corbin is a Ravenclaw," Stewart said loyally. "And I heard him arguing with Gabrielle Delacour in the common room; something about how she should stay away from Dylan Rosier. He doesn't want anything to do with the Slytherins."

"Isabelle and I overheard them arguing in the library, too," Susan said. "His grandaunt was Dylan's grandmother, and the Talbotts blame the Rosiers for her death. It sounds like he really hates the Death Eaters."

"Is it agreed then, that we shall ask Corbin Talbott and Dean Thomas to join us?" Isabelle asked. Stewart and Susan nodded, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Tristan. "Then, for now, let's watch Snape and the Slytherins carefully, and we'll have our first meeting...let's see, Dumbledore's announced that there will be a Hogsmeade day the last Saturday of September."

"But Tristan and Corbin won't be able to come," Susan reminded her. "Only third-years on up are allowed to go to Hogsmeade."

"Oh right, I forgot," Isabelle said. "Well, we'll need to meet more frequently than Hogsmeade days arise, anyway. I'll ask Professor Sprout if we can use one of the empty classrooms as a meeting room; since we're posing as a legitimate extracurricular club, it shouldn't cause any suspicions. Let's have our first meeting a week from today; I'll let you know when and where. If you can think of any other prospective members, you can bring them, but as I said, be careful about who you choose."

Everyone agreed, and Susan said, "I'm supposed to go meet Dean now. I'll talk to him about the R.A."

"Be subtle," Isabelle warned, "and make sure he doesn't mention it to Potter and his friends."

"I will," Susan said. "Don't worry!"

Susan ran off, and Stewart and Tristan stared at Isabelle. "Are we really just going to watch the Slytherins?" Tristan asked.

"I didn't want to upset Susan," Isabelle said with a smile, "but 'R' can also stand for 'Revenge'." Stewart and Tristan grinned. "But we must be careful," Isabelle cautioned. "We must move slowly and subtly. For now, we will watch, but when the opportunity is right..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's mother and Lupin reach an understanding; the R.A. members continue to plot; and Snape and Lupin attend a werewolf wedding.

Blaise wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but after returning from his detention with Lupin on Saturday, Aric's attitude seemed to have changed dramatically. He had toned down his obnoxious behavior, and had even started making friendly overtures towards his housemates. The seventh-years were still wary of him, but some of the younger students had responded favorably, asking him questions about what life at Durmstrang was like; most of the Slytherins were naturally curious about a school that specialized in the Dark Arts. The girls, Yvonne's crowd in particular, were pleased to have a new good-looking boy to flirt with now that Dylan was off the market. And while it was clear that he still hated Theo, Aric limited his hostility to a few sullen glares, and no longer taunted or argued with his cousin, for which Blaise was grateful, although Aric's sudden change in personality made him suspicious.

Aric's reformed behavior carried over from the weekend into the new school week. DADA class went smoothly on Monday: Aric turned in his werewolf essay without complaint, and was polite, if a bit cool, to Lupin. He even raised his hand a few times when Lupin asked the class questions. 

They continued with their curse-breaking lessons, which Lupin managed to make challenging but fun, as usual. Normally the class was a little loathe to leave when the bell rang, but since Defense happened to fall right before lunch today, and they had all worked up an appetite, the students gathered up their things and hurried out to the Great Hall, pausing only briefly to say goodbye to Lupin. 

As they got halfway down the corridor, Blaise said, "Oh damn, I think I left one of my books back in the classroom!"

"I'll go back with you to get it," Theodore offered.

"Oh, that's okay," Blaise said casually. "You go on ahead; it'll just take me a minute to run back and grab it. I'll catch up with you."

"Okay," Theodore said, and continued on with the other Slytherins. Blaise ran back to the classroom, where Lupin was tidying up his desk and preparing to leave.

"Oh, hello, Blaise," Lupin said with a smile. "Did you forget something?"

"Yes, sir," Blaise replied, going to his desk for the book he'd deliberately left behind to give him an excuse to come back. "Um...could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course," Lupin said, still smiling. "What is it?"

"Well...um...Theo and Dylan have been going over to your and Professor Snape's quarters almost every night," Blaise began hesitantly. "I know that Theo is really happy that Professor Snape adopted him, and I'm glad for him, but...well...we kind of miss having them around in the dorm in the evenings." He hastily added, "I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining--"

"But I wouldn't want Theo and Dylan to become isolated from their housemates," Lupin said thoughtfully, "nor for the others to resent them for having special privileges--after all, most of the students don't get to visit their parents every night. I hadn't really considered that, but it's been a long time since one of the teachers had a child attending Hogwarts." 

"But I don't want to stop them from spending time with you and Professor Snape, either," Blaise assured Lupin. "I know it means a lot to them."

"Do you have any ideas as to how Severus and I should handle this, Blaise?" Lupin asked. "You've clearly given this some thought."

"As a matter of fact, I do," Blaise said, and told Lupin his idea.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Lupin said, grinning widely.

"Maybe Professor Snape won't go for that, though," Blaise said uncertainly.

"Oh, don't worry, Blaise," Lupin said, a sly and smug look on his face. "I'll persuade him."

"Well, all right then," Blaise said, deciding that he'd really rather not know the details about how Lupin intended to persuade Snape to go along with it. "Er...I haven't mentioned anything about this to Theo and Dylan..."

Lupin smiled. "Don't worry, Blaise. I won't tell them it was your idea."

"Thanks, Professor," Blaise said, feeling relieved. "I'll see you later."

When he caught up to his friends, Theodore asked, "What took you so long? Couldn't you find your book?"

"It was right where I left it," Blaise replied honestly. "But the Professor and I got to talking a bit."

"Oh," Theodore said, not seeming to find anything suspicious about that; Lupin was as gregarious as Snape was sour, and often stopped to chat with his students after or between classes. Blaise changed the subject to Quidditch, and soon Theo and his teammates were enthusiastically discussing ways they might beat Gryffindor this year.

*** 

Alone in their quarters after school had let out for the day, Lupin spoke to Snape about his conversation with Blaise. "I think part of it is probably that he misses spending time with Theo in the evenings..."

Snape smiled. "Ah, yes...young love. They should just feel lucky that they're in the same House and share a room."

"Unlike us, when we were their age," Lupin laughed. "But still, I think there's more to it than that."

Snape's expression turned more serious. "Yes, now that you mention it, I have noticed the beginnings of discontent among the Slytherins...nothing major yet, a few muttered complaints, mainly among the girls, that Dylan is hardly seen in the dorm these days, as he's either with Granger or with us. But you're right; we shouldn't let it escalate further." Snape sighed regretfully. "Though I will miss our chess games. But at least we get to see them everyday, unlike most of the students' parents."

"There might be a solution," Lupin said with a smile, and told him what Blaise had suggested.

Snape scowled. "I think it's a stupid idea, Lupin."

"Don't you want to spend time with your sons, Severus?"

"Of course I do, but I don't think the other students will appreciate it."

"Nonsense, Severus. As I've told you, you're much more popular than you think. How many students offered you condolences about your father, either directly or through me and the boys?"

Snape crossed his arms, looking downright sulky. "It will ruin my reputation."

"Well then, we'll say that I forced you to do it."

"I'm not sure what's worse," Snape grumbled, "having the students think that I'm going soft, or having them think I'm henpecked."

"Wolf-pecked," Lupin corrected with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek. "Aw, come on, Sev," he wheedled. "I'll make it worth your while." In a sultry voice he said, "You can have your way with me, anywhere, anytime you please."

Snape flushed, feeling the heat of desire spreading through his body, but leaned back against the couch and said calmly, "I do that anyway. Besides, I think that's more your fantasy than mine--you're the one who started this quickie-in-the-office-between-classes business."

"I'll howl for you," Lupin whispered into Snape's ear, his breath tickling it pleasantly.

Snape shivered. "You'd do that anyway," he pointed out, but his voice went hoarse and his mouth went dry nevertheless. 

Lupin nibbled gently on Snape's earlobe. "Mmm, but the idea still excites you, doesn't it?" He slowly began to unfasten his robe.

"Bribing me with sex won't work, Lupin," Snape said, but he put an arm around Lupin and pulled him close. "A bribe is only effective if you intend to withhold it until the person you're bribing does what you want." He scraped his teeth lightly against the soft skin of the werewolf's throat, and Lupin groaned; Snape grinned wickedly. "And there is no way you would ever be able to deny me sex this close to the full moon." A few well-placed caresses proved his point as Lupin writhed and moaned in his arms.

"You drive a hard bargain, you sly Slytherin," Lupin panted into Snape's ear. "But you have another weakness besides sex. What if I persuade the house-elves to make us a special dessert...that chocolate cake you like so much, the one that's made with bittersweet chocolate and sour cream, topped with thick, rich fudge frosting? Or perhaps a strawberry shortcake, with whipped cream and fresh strawberries...?" Lupin smiled, slowly and sensually. "That might be fun to eat in bed..."

"No fair combining sex and sweets, Lupin," Snape complained. "That's cheating."

"That is the Slytherin way, after all, my dear," Lupin said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"You're supposed to be a Gryffindor," Snape retorted.

"Well, I suppose your sneaky ways must be rubbing off on me," Lupin said, grinning and batting his eyelashes at Snape. "Come on, Sev--didn't you tell the boys that it's easier to just give in to the werewolf when he wants something?"

Snape's face turned red. "Yes, but you weren't supposed to have heard that."

"Chalk it up to my keen werewolf hearing," Lupin said.

"Oh, very well," Snape sighed, giving in to the inevitable. "But not every night."

"No, a few times a week should be sufficient," Lupin agreed. "Besides--" He lowered his lashes and smiled coyly. "--we do want some private time for us once in awhile."

"Then we have a bargain," Snape said huskily, pulling Lupin onto his lap. "And now it's time for you to keep up your end of the bargain. I believe you said something about anywhere, anytime? Well, I choose here and now."

"As you wish," Lupin said, covering Snape's mouth with his own.

*** 

Later that evening after dinner, Lupin appeared in the Slytherin common room carrying a large platter heaped with cookies, a slightly sulky Snape trailing behind him.

"Professor!" Draco exclaimed, looking startled--as all the children in the common room did, except for Blaise, whose surprise looked a bit feigned, but Lupin doubted that anyone else noticed. Lupin grinned; Blaise was quiet, serious, and well-behaved--unusually so for a Slytherin, but every now and then he proved that he could be as devious as any of his housemates.

"Rem--I mean, Professor Lupin," Theodore said. "What are you and Professor Snape doing here?"

"Well," Lupin replied, "as I am living in the dungeon now, and seeing as how Severus and I are...er...companions now, I thought perhaps I should take the opportunity to get to know all of the Slytherins a little better." He smiled in a boyish, mischievous way. "And besides, as a Gryffindor, it's a bit of a thrill to be able to sneak into the Slytherin dorm."

"You didn't sneak, Lupin," Snape pointed out sourly. "I gave you the password. Which I can revoke at any time, let me remind you."

"And Professor Snape is here to keep me out of trouble," Lupin said, winking at Snape.

"A losing proposition," Snape said huffily, "but I thought I should do my best to see that you do not corrupt my Slytherins overmuch with your Gryffindor idealism."

"Yes, you take your duties as Head of House most seriously," Lupin said gravely, but his blue eyes were dancing with merriment; Snape snorted. The two Professors took a seat on the couch, and Lupin passed the plate of cookies around. Theodore and Dylan grinned, and came over to sit next to their parents, and soon most of their friends and housemates had gathered around them. Snape began reading a Potions journal as Lupin chatted with the students, but eventually let Lupin badger him into joining in on a game of cards with the werewolf and some of the students.

"No fair cheating now, Severus," Lupin warned sternly.

Snape grinned wickedly and said, "It's only cheating if you get caught at it."

Soon it became a regular and--somewhat surprisingly, to both Snape and the students--welcome routine for the two Professors to drop by the dorm two or three times a week, usually bearing cookies or some other type of snack, and the students soon got into the habit of heating a cauldron of water or milk in the fireplace for tea or cocoa when Lupin and Snape visited. Sometimes Lupin would play card games with the children, and at other times he would tell them stories about his schoolboy days and the Marauders' pranks. 

Mostly Snape would read a book or magazine and pretend to ignore them, but sometimes Lupin would coax him into joining a card game or playing chess with Dylan or Theo. During the chess games, Dylan's and Theo's friends would offer advice while Lupin would give Snape advice--unasked for and unhelpful advice, Snape pointedly declared. The Slytherins began making wagers on the chess games--but very quietly, because no one wanted their Head of House to take offense if he learned that anyone was betting against him.

The students tread cautiously around Snape at first, but gradually, as they became accustomed to his presence, they began to ask him questions about their Potions assignments, and he would reply, providing that their questions were intelligent and they weren't simply trying to get him to give them the answers to their homework. 

A few even ventured to timidly ask Snape about his days as a student at Hogwarts as they did Lupin. If he was in a good enough mood, Snape would tell them a few harmless anecdotes about Quidditch matches against Gryffindor or some mischief their parents had gotten into as children, but he never talked about the Death Eaters or how he had come to join them.

Dylan and Theo still visited Snape's quarters to spend time alone with their parents, but less often now that Snape and Lupin spent so much time at the dorm, and the resentment of the Slytherins dissipated before it ever really had a chance to get started.

Aric never joined in on the games and discussions, but sometimes Lupin would see him hovering around the edges of the group, hiding in the shadows, quietly listening in, and Lupin hoped that was a good sign.

*** 

The day after the Professors' first visit to the Slytherin dorm, Dylan received a letter from Goewin in response to the query he'd sent her about the foreboding fortune Theo had cast with his runestones shortly before school started.

*** 

Dear Dylan,

I'm sorry it took me so long to reply to your letter. Blodwen dropped it off at home in Wales while we were in London putting some of Deirdre's affairs in order. We've decided to close up the Donner mansion in London and take Deirdre's house-elves back to Wales with us; it's too much trouble traveling back and forth while Ariana is still so small. Ari was also feeling a little sick when we got back, but she's better now--Severus's tonic was very helpful, so please thank him for us.

As for the reading Theodore's runestones gave, yes, the fact that he cast the same runes three times in a row is significant, but at the same time, don't let it scare you. As you know, the Divination process is notoriously vague, and sometimes things become clear only in hindsight. The runestones are meant to be an aid and a guide, not a premonition of doom. If danger is foreseen in the runes, one can take steps to avoid that danger. And you must remember that the runes are symbolic and not necessarily to be taken literally. The water-reversed rune can mean betrayal, as Theodore told you, but it can also mean that one's own mind has become confused and in danger of making a bad decision. I am not surprised that the central rune in the casting was the one for change, considering the turmoil and upheaval in your friend's life--in both your lives--in recent months. Change can be frightening sometimes, but it is a force for good as well as for ill; the Ministry was afraid to face change, afraid to face the fact that Voldemort had returned, and wanted to continue living in their blissful illusion of safety. If the Order and you and your friends at Hogwarts had not been willing to embrace change, we could all have perished.

So advise your friend to be cautious and not to act rashly, but neither should he let fear overwhelm him. There will no doubt be more change and turmoil in the days to come, but I believe that in the long run, he will be a stronger person for having faced them. Give him your support, as his friend and his brother.

In fact, I believe I see an auspicious rune in this casting: the rune Othel, which symbolizes home and inheritances. I recently heard that Severus has adopted Theodore and been reinstated as the Snape heir, which means that Theodore now has the backing of the Snape family behind him. Do you see what I mean about things becoming clear in hindsight? 

I am sorry to hear about Severus's father, although I suppose he will not want my sympathy. And I was suprised but gladdened to hear of the adoption; I am sure it will be good for both of them. Severus has changed a great deal from the wary and bitter boy I used to know--I think being with Remus has changed him for the better. (And look, there is that word "change" again!) Or perhaps I am only now beginning to see--or he is only now letting us see--what has been there all along; I don't think that even Remus could create love and compassion where they did not exist before. Severus and I quarreled at times during the Order meetings, over how much risk you should be exposed to, but I could see how much he loved you and wanted to protect you. 

So try not to worry too much about the runes, dear, but go to Severus and Remus at once if you perceive any danger to yourself or Theodore. The main threat from the Death Eaters is over, but there will be those who hold grudges against the families of the Death Eaters. I don't believe it will escalate into violence, but be aware and be cautious. And please write to me and Uncle Math about how things are going at school.

Love always,  
Aunt Goewin

*** 

Theodore smiled sheepishly when Dylan showed the letter to him. "With all the excitement about the adoption and Aric showing up Hogwarts, I completely forgot about the runestones. Guess I got all worked up over nothing, huh?"

"Aunt Goewin didn't say that it was 'nothing,'" Dylan pointed out. "She said that it was significant and to be cautious, but not to be scared by it."

"Maybe all the signs of trouble were pointing to Aric," Theodore mused. "Though I don't know if I really consider him a danger; he's more of a nuisance, really."

"Well, be careful around him," Dylan warned. "I don't trust him not to hex you when your back is turned."

"I will," Theodore promised.

*** 

The night of the full moon fell on a Thursday, and Lupin and Snape skipped dinner in the Great Hall to eat an early meal in the privacy of their quarters. They were not really surprised when Theodore and Dylan knocked at the door just as they began eating.

"Come in," Lupin said with a smile. "I had the house-elves bring up enough food for four."

But they were surprised when another knock sounded at the door just after they had sent the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Snape opened the door to find Lukas Bleddri standing behind it, looking uncomfortable and a little sheepish.

"Bleddri!" Snape said, startled. "I didn't expect to see you tonight, as I gave you your dose of Wolfsbane Potion this afternoon. Is something wrong?"

"No, not really," Lukas replied. "I just--" Then he broke off his sentence when he caught sight of Dylan and Theodore staring at him curiously. "Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize you had company."

"It's just Theo and Dylan," Lupin said with a smile. "They've become accustomed to spending the full moon with me. Come in, Lukas."

"Oh no," Lukas hastily demurred, starting to back away from the door. "It's nothing important; I'll just be on my way--"

"You didn't want to spend the night of the full moon alone, right?" Lupin asked quietly.

Lukas froze in place, then reluctantly nodded. "I usually spend the full moon with my pack, but I didn't want to leave Hogwarts since tomorrow is a school day and I have to be up early..."

"The improved Wolfsbane Potion has made the tranformation less debilitating, but if you do feel too tired to teach, Albus won't mind if you take the day off," Lupin told him.

"No!" Lukas said sharply. "I won't give the bigots more ammunition to use against our kind, won't give them a reason to say that you shouldn't hire werewolves because they have to take time off from work every month."

"Then you're welcome to spend the evening with us," Lupin offered.

"I don't want to intrude," Lukas protested; he had clearly walked into a private family gathering.

"You won't be intruding," Lupin assured him with a smile. "And besides, we werewolves should stick together. Severus and the boys won't mind."

Lukas wasn't so sure about that; Lupin had a tendency to speak for his mate without asking for his mate's opinion, but Snape said in an only slightly grudging voice, "Come in, Bleddri."

"Are you sure?" Lukas asked skeptically.

"It's a pack thing, isn't it?" Snape asked in a suprisingly reasonable voice. "Wolves don't like to be alone, and your wolfish instincts become stronger when the moon is full. You had might as well stay, Bleddri. I doubt there will be any problems as you've been taking the Wolfsbane Potion, but just in case there are, I'll be close at hand to deal with them. And besides..." Snape heaved a long-suffering sigh. "I'd rather invite you in than have the werewolf nag me about it all night."

"He'd only be able to nag you until the moon rose," Lukas pointed out, beginning to smile; for all that Remus claimed that Snape was the alpha of his pack, he certainly seemed to control most of the decisions that were made in his odd little family. In fact, despite his meek and gentle demeanor, Remus seemed to get his way in most things, period. Every child in the school seemed to adore him, with the exception of Dietrich, but even then, Remus had been able to bully Aric into "volunteering" at the clinic, and despite Lukas's initial misgivings about it, he believed that they had actually made some progress with the boy. Not much, but it was a start, and more than Lukas had expected.

"Oh, believe me," Snape replied tartly, cutting into Lukas's train of thought, "Lupin is quite able to make his opinion known even in his wolf form."

The boys laughed, and Lupin just smiled innocently, an I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about expression on his face. Feeling a little less uncomfortable, Lukas entered the Potions Master's quarters, and took a seat on the floor in front of the fire, dropping into a sitting position in one smooth, fluid movement--the unconscious grace of the wolf, which was second nature to him by now; the boys looked a little impressed.

There was an awkward silence; at least, Lukas felt awkward, and the boys seemed to as well, although Lupin looked serene and Snape had fixed a look of cool, detached interest on his face, like a scientist about to observe an experiment. Lukas thought Snape might be trying to cover up his own discomfort, but it was sometimes difficult to tell what the Potions Master was really thinking. The Head of Slytherin, true to his House, was a cunning and devious bastard, but the one thing that did ring true, always, was the fierce and possessive--almost wolflike, one might say--love he had for his mate and cubs, no matter how much he grumbled about Lupin's Gryffindor idealism and cheerfulness.

They did not have to endure the silence for long; the moon rose and triggered the transformation even though its light did not reach into the depths of Snape's dungeon quarters. Lukas felt the pain of his flesh and bones realigning themselves, and with long practice, he surrendered to it instead of fighting it, and the pain passed quickly. He rose on four legs and shook himself, settling into his new body, feeling a sense of rightness; he was as comfortable in his wolf form as he was in his human form, perhaps even more so. As a human, he was still a predator, a wolf in a man's body, and in a way, it felt good to actually be the wolf and not have to be careful to behave like a proper human so as not to scare people. 

This was what most werewolves feared, Lukas thought to himself, if they would truly be honest with themselves: the reason that they fought so hard against the transformation, the reason that they tried so hard to repress the wolf within was because a part of them enjoyed it. Enjoyed not having to work at being human, enjoyed the freedom in surrendering to the beast's natural, unthinking instinct to run and howl and yes, to hunt and kill. They feared that if they acknowledged that joy and gave in to the wolf, they would no longer be human. Maybe they were even right about that, at least before the Wolfsbane Potion had been invented. 

But on the other hand, Voldemort and the Death Eaters had not needed the excuse of lycanthropy for their brutality and sadism; they had tortured and slaughtered hundreds of people, a massacre worse than any committed by even the most deranged werewolf. Lukas knew that in many ways, he was more wolf than human, but he still had more humanity than they'd had. Hell, even a real wolf had more humanity than the Death Eaters had possessed! At least a wolf killed only to feed and protect itself and its pack.

A damp nose touched Lukas's face, startling him out of his brooding thoughts, and he let out a little yelp, but it was only Lupin, sniffing at him in a friendly manner. Strange, how he managed to look gentle and good-natured even as a wolf; perhaps it was the blue eyes, which looked rather odd in a wolf's face, the opposite of Lukas's yellow-green eyes, which made him look wolfish even as a human. Lukas made a small growling noise in acknowledgment, and Lupin barked happily and licked his face. 

Lukas growled irritably, wiping his face against the rug lying beside the hearth, which caused Theodore and Dylan to laugh, although they tried to muffle it by placing their hands over their mouths. Meanwhile, Snape glared at the two wolves jealously--he did, as Lukas had noted before, have a possessive streak, although Lukas would have been happy to assure him that he need not worry on that account. Even if he had been inclined to pursue someone else's mate, Remus was not Lukas's type: the wrong gender, for one thing, and too damn cheerful, for another.

Lupin, however, was quick to show his devotion to his mate; he jumped up on the couch, bracing his front paws against Snape's chest, and enthusiastically began licking Snape's face as the Potions Master spluttered and shouted, "Aargh! Stop that, you stupid wolf!" Lupin gave Snape's face one last affectionate swipe, then jumped back down to the floor to pounce on his two cubs. 

Snape watched indulgently as the boys laughed and wrestled with Lupin as if he were an overgrown puppy, and Lukas made a disgusted snorting noise, but secretly he felt a little wistful; it was not so different from the way he used to romp and play with the members of his pack during the full moon. The younger wolves liked to pounce on him and nip at his tail, and Lukas would lie still and permit this indignity for a little while before suddenly jumping to his feet, sending the ones pouncing on him tumbling to the floor, and cuffing the others with just enough force to show them who was boss, but not enough to hurt them. Then he would settle back down on his favorite place beside the fire and the whole process would start all over again. The blond wolf let out a wistful little sigh, but no one seemed to notice.

When Lupin and his cubs had tired of playing--or more accurately, when the boys were too tired to play any longer, Lupin jumped back up on the couch and flopped down, laying his head on Snape's lap. Snape reached down and scratched Lupin behind the ears; Lupin's mouth dropped open in a grin, his tongue lolling out, and he wagged his tail. Eventually Theodore picked himself up off the floor and sat on the couch beside them, stroking the wolf's back; Lupin's tail wagged harder, and he made contented little growling noises.

Lukas growled, laying down beside the fire and resting his head on his front paws. He laid back his ears, thinking to himself, _Remus gives lycanthropy a bad name; he acts more like a pet dog than a wolf!_ But again, he was really more wistful than angry. Perhaps this had been a bad idea; watching Lupin interact with his pack made Lukas feel more lonely than if he had spent the night by himself in his own quarters. He whined softly before he could stop himself, and Dylan, who was still lying sprawled out on the floor, looked up and stared at him thoughtfully.

The boy cautiously approached him and said quietly, "You miss your pack, don't you, Master Bleddri?" Then, very hesitantly, he reached out and scratched behind Lukas's ears.

To his horror, Lukas found himself wagging his tail before he realized what he was doing; there were some disadvantages in giving in to animal instinct, after all! Damn, but it felt good, though; no wonder dogs looked so blissful when you scratched them behind the ears. No human had touched him in wolf form since he had been a very small child, and he had only very hazy memories of it, as there had been no Wolfsbane Potion back then, and his father had drugged him nearly insensible with Sleeping Potion so that he could hold his son in his arms and comfort him during the full moon. 

Lukas's father had worn layers of thick robes and heavy dragonskin gloves for protection, as well as covered himself with numerous magical wards for good measure, but it was still an incredibly reckless thing to have done, even if a werewolf cub was less dangerous than a full-grown lycanthrope. Lukas was grateful for it, though, and cherished those memories, as blurry as they were. He remembered his father's hands, strong and gentle, stroking him and soothing the pain of his newly tranformed body. He remembered his mother's voice, sweet and melodic, singing him a lullaby in Welsh; the wolf could not understand the words, of course, but it understood the tenderness that her voice conveyed. Mother's voice and Father's hands, along with his parents' familiar scents, combined to drive back the red haze of anger and madness, and dissipated the hunger to bite and scratch (although his body was too drugged to act on that hunger), and eventually the wolf cub would sigh and relax, dozing in his father's lap until morning came. 

That lasted only a few years, though, because all too soon, he had grown to the point where no amount of Sleeping Potion would subdue him enough to let a human safely remain in the same room with him. Even then, his parents would spend all night just outside the room he was locked in so that he could smell them and hear their voices. The wolf would fling itself wildly against the door, scratching frantically at it until its claws broke and bled, trying to reach the humans it smelled so tantalizingly close but just out of reach. The wolf didn't know or care that they were his parents; all it wanted was to bite and claw, driven by the urge to pass on its curse. But eventually exhaustion would set in, and it would collapse on the floor beside the door, and then their familiar scents and their voices, soft and reassuring, would finally reach him and comfort him.

Dylan's hand, gently stroking his head and scratching behind his ears, reminded him of those times. Lukas-the-human would have pulled away in embarrassment, but Lukas-the-wolf was happy and did not want the stroking and scratching to stop, and it was the wolf who was in control now. He had just enough self-control and presence of mind left to raise his head and cast a baleful glare at the boy, trying to silently convey the words "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will bite your hand off."

Dylan just smiled, a hint of mischief sparkling in his normally serious silver-gray eyes, and whispered, "It will be our secret, Master Bleddri." Lukas grunted, feeling somewhat placated, and laid his head back on his front paws, his tail continuing to wag of its own accord, thumping softly against the floor.

Drowsy with contentment, he was only half aware when sometime later, Snape said to the boys, "It's getting late. You should go back to the dorm and get some sleep; you have classes tomorrow. We all do, actually."

Dylan gave Lukas one last pat on the head and said, "Goodnight, Master Bleddri. Goodnight, Professor Snape, Remus."

"Goodnight," Snape said. The only response from Lupin was a snore. 

The boys laughed softly and left. When he heard the door close behind them, Lukas blearily raised his eyelids, wondering if he should leave, too. But the wolf was very comfortable and did not want to move, and besides, it wasn't like he could use the Floo in this shape, since he couldn't grab a handful of Floo Powder, nor could he open the door with his paws if he decided to walk back to his quarters--which quite frankly, was a very unappealing proposition at the moment.

Snape solved the problem by saying in that dry, sarcastic tone of voice he was so fond of, "Oh, you might as well stay where you are, Bleddri. It's not like I haven't had a wolf sleeping on my floor before." Lukas was half-tempted to bite him, except that Snape would probably be even more insufferable as a wolf, and besides, it didn't seem worth the effort. He let his eyelids, which were feeling incredibly heavy, fall shut. He heard Snape hiss, "Lupin! Lupin, come on, get up and go to bed. I don't intend to spend another full moon sleeping on the couch." 

Then he heard the sound of Lupin yawning, and a heavy thump as the wolf jumped from the couch to the floor, and then the sound of footsteps--Snape's, heavy and measured, and the softer steps of the wolf, his claws making a soft clicking sound as they brushed against the floor. The sound of the bedroom door closing was the last thing Lukas heard before he slipped into unconsciousness.

*** 

Lukas woke up the next morning on the floor in an unfamiliar room. He felt tired and his body throbbed with a dull ache, but he didn't seem to have a hangover. He rubbed his eyes, then sat up and looked around--ah, that's right; last night had been the full moon, and he had spent it in Snape's and Lupin's quarters. He was relieved to find that his hosts were nowhere in sight; a glance at the clock on the wall told him that it was still early, and they were probably both still in bed, asleep. He grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder from a jar on the mantle, and quietly returned to his own rooms.

Despite the improved Wolfsbane Potion, the transformation still left him feeling a little drained, though he tried to show no sign of it during his Physical Defense classes. Years of poverty and living on the streets had taught him to be able to function normally in spite of hunger, fatigue, and pain, so this was nothing in comparison. What bothered him more was the fact that he had to face both Theodore and Dylan after spending a night being scratched behind the ears by the latter. Theodore, fortunately, had a good sense of tact and self-preservation, and carefully avoided Lukas's gaze in class, making no mention of the previous night.

Dylan, on the other hand, was calm and self-composed as ever. He didn't avoid Lukas's gaze, greeting him politely and asking questions in class as he always did, behaving as if last night had never happened. Lukas watched him closely, but he could find no sign of mockery or amusement in the boy's eyes, and relaxed a little. Dylan's foster father was a werewolf, after all, so perhaps he didn't find wolfish behavior that unusual. Lukas still didn't feel entirely comfortable in his new role as a teacher, and he still missed his pack, but he was beginning to think it would not be so bad. Most of his students liked and respected him, and Remus's pack had made him feel welcome. It was not the same as being with his own pack, but he appreciated the gesture of friendship. 

Besides, his pack was starting to break up anyway, as his newly-respectable wolves found mates and jobs and moved into homes of their own. It was a little sad, but they would always be pack even if they lived apart, and Lukas was happy for them at the same time. It was, after all, what they had fought so hard for, what they had most desired: a chance to live a normal life. Lukas was overwhelmed by a sudden, unexpected rush of sorrow at the thought that his parents had not lived to see this moment, but he quickly pushed it aside before his students noticed, and turned his mind back towards the day's lesson. He had once told Remus to let the past be, and he supposed he ought to follow his own advice...

*** 

The Snape family owl, Socrates, dropped off a letter that day at lunch, inviting Snape, Lupin, and the boys to tea on Saturday at Snape Manor. The bird sat on the table, waiting patiently as Snape read the letter and groaned; it had obviously been ordered to wait for a reply.

"Does she think we have nothing better to do?" Snape grumbled. "You and I have assignments to grade, lesson plans to work on, and the boys have homework and Quidditch practice--"

"It's just for an hour or two, Severus," Lupin said patiently, petting Socrates and feeding him a tidbit from his plate. "You knew when you adopted Theodore that you'd have to spend some time with your mother." He plucked the letter from his lover's grasp and read it. "It says here that she wants Theodore to start learning about the Snape family history and financial holdings. That seems reasonable to me; he will eventually inherit the Snape estate, after all, so he should know these things."

"I hate it when you're reasonable," Snape said, scowling. "Are you really looking forward to going back to Snape Manor and having my mother look down her nose at you the entire time?"

"No, but I can put it up with it for Theo's sake," Lupin replied calmly. "Besides, Lady Selima and I have reached an understanding of sorts: she'll tolerate my presence in exchange for getting a Snape heir. Look, she even included Dylan and myself in the invitation, and she referred to me as 'Professor Lupin,' not 'the werewolf'. That's progress, don't you think?"

Snape just growled in response, but scrawled a quick reply on the back of Selima's letter and handed it to Socrates.

*** 

The next day, Snape and family arrived at Snape Manor. Snape had brought a new bottle of Pain's Ease Potion for his father, and Lupin, after asking Snape what kind of sweets Selima liked, had picked up a box of petit fours from a tea shop/bakery in London that was popular with the pureblood elite, and which Selima was known to frequent. They were a specialty of the shop, and said to be delicious; they certainly looked like works of art almost too beautiful to eat, each little pastry square covered with deep brown chocolate or pale pastel frosting and decorated with delicate little icing ribbons and bows or flowers.

"Don't expect her to thank you for it," Snape had warned before they left. "You could hand her the Philosopher's Stone on a silver platter and she'd still look it at disdainfully because it came from a werewolf."

"A gift should always be freely given, without expectation of thanks," Lupin had replied serenely. "I'm doing it because I want to, not because I expect thanks from Selima."

"Good," Snape had retorted sourly. "Because you won't get any."

But somewhat to his surprise, his mother accepted the gift graciously, with a cool but polite, "Thank you, Professor Lupin." Snape knew from experience that it was the very proper and polite tone of voice she used with someone she didn't like but didn't want to offend, but it was still a step up from the outright scorn that she usually regarded Lupin with.

"You're welcome, Lady Selima," Lupin said with a warm smile. 

Snape gave his mother the potion, and she thanked him with just a little more warmth and sincerity than she had Lupin, which was still barely discernible, at least to someone who didn't know her well. "Here, Vorcher," Selima said, handing him the box of pastries and the potion bottle. "Serve these with tea later, and take the potion up to the Master's room."

"Yes, Mistress," the house-elf said obediently.

Selima led them to the library, sat Theodore down at a desk, and set a very large and intimidating stack of thick, leather-bound books in front of him with a loud thump.

Theodore stared at the books in dismay. "I can't read all this in one day!" he protested.

"No, but you can get started on them," Selima told him sternly. "You can take the books back to school with you, but be careful with them; they're irreplaceable. These are the Snape family histories--records and diaries made by the Lords of the Snape estate. And this--" She added a slimmer volume to the stack. "--contains the financial holdings of the Snape estate." Theodore just sat there staring at the books. "Better get started, boy," Selima told him in a voice that was remarkably similar to the one Snape used when addressing his students. She tapped the stack of books and added, "This covers only the first half of the Snape family history."

Theodore groaned, and Snape told his mother irritably, "You know, he does have other things to do besides read the family histories. This is his seventh year, and he has his N.E.W.T.s to study for--"

"He doesn't have to read them all at once," Selima snapped, "but he is second in line to inherit the title, and being the heir has responsibilities as well as privileges."

"I can't be dragging him out of school every weekend--" Snape continued to complain.

"I just said that he can take them to school with him!" Selima retorted. "He doesn't have to visit every weekend, but I do expect you to bring Theodore by regularly so I can see that he is being properly instructed in his role as the Snape heir. I realize that this is a crucial school year for him, but most heirs aren't suddenly adopted into the family at age seventeen! He knows almost nothing about the family he will head one day, and he has years' worth of learning to catch up on! If you had done your duty and--"

"Lady Selima is right," Lupin quickly interrupted as Snape's face began to turn red with anger, and both Snape and his mother stopped arguing to stare at him in surprise. "Theodore should know the history of the family he has been adopted into," Lupin continued calmly. "I see no reason why he shouldn't visit at regular intervals and take some of the family histories back to school with him to study."

"Whose side are you on, Lupin?" Snape muttered under his breath, while Selima continued to stare at Lupin, obviously torn between feeling vindicated and feeling annoyed that the werewolf was supporting her.

"Theodore's side, Severus," Lupin replied in an even voice. "I want what is best for him, the same as you do." Snape subsided, still looking grumpy, but also a little ashamed of himself. "However," Lupin continued, "while I understand your sense of urgency, Lady Selima, considering Lord Severin's condition, I don't think that we need to rush Theodore's education. He will not have to assume control of the estate for many years, as Severus is next in line to inherit. What is done hastily is often done poorly, and perhaps it would be better to take Theodore's education at a slightly slower pace, and see that it is done properly. There is no point in him reading all these books if he is only going to forget what he read because he rushed through them too quickly."

Selima glared at him, but couldn't argue with his logic. "Very well," she agreed curtly. "I will expect to be kept informed of his progress. And--" She turned to address her grandson. "--I expect you to be making progress. This is just as important as your N.E.W.T.s." She made a sweeping gesture that seemed to include the entire mansion. "All this will be yours one day, and you must learn how to properly manage the estate."

Theodore glanced at Lupin, who smiled and nodded slightly, and Theodore said meekly, "Yes, Lady Sel--I mean, yes, Grandmother."

Selima looked even more annoyed by Theodore's quick glance to Lupin for approval, but all she said was, "Tea will be served in the sunroom in an hour," and she swept out of the room.

Theodore sighed and reluctantly picked up the first book, the list of financial holdings. The look of boredom quickly vanished from his face as his eyes widened in shock. "Merlin's Beard!" he exclaimed, then looked up at Snape. "I didn't know that your family--I mean, our family--had that much money in Gringotts!" 

"How much?" Dylan asked curiously, and peered over his shoulder. When he saw the figure, he raised his eyebrows, whistled, and said, "Impressive."

Snape looked just a little smug. "Yes, the Snapes are one of the wealthiest families in the wizarding world. Not quite as wealthy as the Malfoys are--or used to be, before the Ministry imposed their fines for Lucius's crimes." He couldn't resist adding, "Wealthier than the Blacks, certainly." Lupin just chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.

"And the Blacks aren't exactly poverty-stricken themselves," Dylan said. "Hermione told me that Sirius is the one who bought the Firebolt for Potter."

Lupin laughed. "I'm sure Mrs. Black would have disapproved of Sirius squandering the family fortune on a broomstick, particularly one for a Gryffindor godson!"

"I'm sure my mother would consider it a frivolous purchase as well," Snape said, smiling a little. "She was raised in a merchant family, so she hates to waste money. She doesn't stint on expenses, however, when it comes to impressing the right people." His voice took on a mocking tone as he mimicked one of his mother's catch phrases, "Making a good impression is the first rule of business."

Theodore turned to the next page. "We own property in London as well as the mansion?"

"Ah yes," Snape said, pulling up a seat next to Theodore, "I'd almost forgotten about that. My parents kept a townhouse there when Father was still working at the Ministry. Sometimes it was convenient for them to stay in the city when he was working long hours, and it was a good central location to entertain business associates, particularly for less formal gatherings. But they closed it up and returned here to the mansion when Father was forced to retire."

Theodore continued flipping through the book in fascination, as Dylan and Lupin read over his shoulder. There was a detailed listing of valuable artwork, books, tapestries, and other items the family owned; the boys gazed around the library with new respect as they realized how much it must have cost to amass such a collection over the years. There was also a listing of the Snape business holdings, including shares in the Bashirs' import-export business.

"It was part of the dowry my mother brought to the marriage," Snape explained.

"That's to be expected," Theodore said, nodding. "But we also own an art gallery in London?"

"Another arrangement with my mother's family," Snape replied. "The Bashirs supply the gallery with art objects from foreign countries--you know, the kinds of expensive and exotic things the purebloods find fashionable. At least, it was fashionable when I was a child. I don't know how the gallery's doing now; I haven't kept up to date on the family business dealings."

"It still seems to be turning a profit, according to these records," Theodore said. "Merlin! We also own stock in the chain of Wizarding Supply stores?"

Dylan laughed. "Maybe we can get a discount on our school supplies next year! Or maybe I can, anyway--you'll be graduating, so I guess you won't need any."

"And that's not all," Theodore said, flipping through the pages. "There are other business dealings. Hmm...we once owned a Potion shop, but sold it a few years back because it wasn't making a profit. Too much competition, particularly from Slug & Jiggers, according to this note your mother made, sir." He grinned at Snape. "Perhaps they would have done better if you had advised them."

"Oh, that reminds me," Lupin said. "I was supposed to tell Dylan that Mr. Jigger is looking for an apprentice to take over his shop."

"Me?" a startled Dylan asked. "He wants me to take over his shop?"

"He is looking to retire in a few years, and has no children of his own to take over the business," Lupin explained. "Severus has been singing your praises to him--"

"I don't 'sing,' Lupin," Snape objected.

"--and apparently Mr. Jigger considers you a worthy candidate," Lupin finished, ignoring the interruption. "He knows that you still have another year of school to finish, but he'd like you to keep it in mind."

"You could do worse," Snape said thoughtfully. "It's an old and respected shop, and you could even expand the business and do more potion-brewing. Jigger mainly sells ingredients these days, not actual potions, except to a few special clients; he says it's too much work."

"But you're young and fit," Lupin said with a grin, "and I think you could handle it. In fact, I think you'd be bored if you didn't have any potions to brew. It wouldn't be too much work if you had, say, a partner helping you run the shop..." He winked at Dylan.

"Hermione's a great Potions student," Dylan said enthusiastically, "and she's still not sure what she wants to do when she graduates." 

Snape groaned as Dylan's eyes went a little dreamy, no doubt fantasizing about running the shop together with his ladylove. Lupin laughed and affectionately nuzzled Snape, saying, "Remember when we were teenagers, Severus? I asked you what you would do if your parents disowned you because of me, and you said we could run a Potions shop together! Of course, I have no talent for potions, but you said I could sell charms or counter-curses. We were going to have a little apartment over the shop, and you said I could have a pet dog..."

Snape's face turned bright red as their sons stared at them incredulously. "Oh, knock it off, Lupin," he said gruffly. "It was just a silly schoolboy fantasy."

"It wasn't silly," Lupin objected, giving him a kiss. "Of course, things didn't turn out quite the way we planned, but we are working and living together, so at least part of it came true, and as long as I am with you, I am content." Snape's face turned even redder as the boys tried to hide their smiles. "Of course," Lupin added, "I still don't have the pet dog..."

"We don't need one," Snape growled, "considering that you turn furry on us every month. One canine slobbering on me is sufficient, thank you very much."

Lupin just chuckled and hugged him, and Theodore took pity on his father and changed the subject. Pretending to be engrossed in his book, he asked, "Are all the wealthy families' finances this complicated? My fam--I mean, when I was a Nott, we had the mansion and the account in Gringotts, and that was it. Of course, we weren't as wealthy as the Snapes, but..."

"My mother expanded on our business investments after she married my father," Snape replied gratefully, "but I wasn't aware of how extensive they were. You'll have to ask Lady Selima for the details if you want to learn more, I'm afraid."

Theodore looked a little intimidated at the thought of that, but Lupin said gently, "I'm sure she would be happy to explain them to you, since she wants you to be knowledgeable about the Snape holdings."

"I'm not sure that 'happy' is the word I'd use," Theodore muttered, then sighed. "But I suppose it is my duty to learn these things." He said earnestly to Snape, "I meant what I told Lord Severin when you adopted me, sir, that I would be a worthy son and heir to you."

"I know that, Theodore," Snape said with a gentleness that was much more characteristic of Lupin, and laid his hand on his son's shoulder for a moment. "You already are." Theodore smiled at him, his eyes filled with that look of love and trust that still awed Snape, then he laid aside the financial records and determinedly picked up the first book in the stack of the family histories. Dylan continued to read over his shoulder, and the two boys soon became engrossed in the book; Snape had always thought the histories were rather dull, but apparently Dylan and Theodore were finding them quite interesting. He glanced up to see Lupin gazing at the three of them, a smug and contented look on his face, looking for all the world like a wealthy man gloating over some magnificent treasure, some rare and priceless gem he had just acquired. Snape caught Lupin's eye, and the werewolf smiled tenderly at him, placing his hand on Snape's shoulder. Without saying a word, Snape reached up and laid his hand over Lupin's.

*** 

Selima Snape ground her teeth together, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. It was absolutely intolerable that she had to invite a werewolf to tea just to get a look at her new grandson, who, incidentally, wasn't really her grandson by blood because her ingrate son Severus refused to sire a child of his own! Even worse was the fact that Severus was only grudgingly doing this much of his duty because Lupin had put him up to it! And worst of all was the fact that she'd recently been forced to defend the werewolf in public, when she had been having tea with Priscilla Parkinson and Elaine Baddock, whose grandchildren were students of Severus's...

*** 

"Congratulations on your new heir, Selima," Elaine said sweetly, but there was a look of sly amusement in her eyes.

"You poor dear," Priscilla cooed in a tone of false sympathy. "How trying this must be for you!"

"And to what might you be referring, Priscilla?" Selima asked in a cold voice; people didn't call her the Ice Queen for nothing. She knew perfectly well what they called her behind her back, even if they didn't have the nerve to do it to her face.

"Why, your son being involved with that werewolf, of course!" Priscilla replied, ignoring Selima's frosty tone. "The Daily Prophet has been dropping rumors ever since the Final Battle, and my own granddaughter Pansy saw them kissing in the Great Hall, right in front of all the students! I suppose one can't expect a beast to have proper manners, but really, Severus ought to know better. It's shameful that Dumbledore lets such things go on at the school! Of course he's always been a bit eccentric, but this is going too far, don't you think? Perhaps it's time that he retired..."

Privately, Selima agreed with Priscilla, but it was one thing for Selima to insult her son, and quite another for someone outside the family to do so. And Priscilla's insult against Lupin had been worded as a subtle insult against Severus, and Selima could not let such a slight to the Snape family pass.

"If by 'the beast' you mean Professor Lupin," Selima said in an even colder voice, "I would be careful about referring to a hero of the war in such impolitic terms if I were you." It was almost worth the humiliation of having to defend her son's werewolf lover to see the look on Priscilla's face as her jaw dropped open in a most undignified and unladylike manner.

Priscilla spluttered incoherently for a few moments, then recovered enough to exclaim, "Selima! Surely you're not saying that you approve of Severus's relationship with the werewolf!"

Selima calmly took a sip of tea, showing no sign on her face of the rage she felt inside. "Severus is an adult," she said in an even voice. "He is not required to consult with me regarding his paramours."

"Paramours?" Elaine gasped, her eyes going wide. "He has others besides Lupin?"

It took a great deal of self-control for Selima to hold back an exasperated sigh; at nearly sixty, with two grandchildren, Elaine was still as shallow and witless as she had been as a teenager at Hogwarts. "I was speaking figuratively, dear," Selima said in a tone of gentle condescension, which flew right over her companion's head.

"Oh," Elaine sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. Think how much worse the situation would be if he had other werewolf lovers!"

"I can't believe you're being so cavalier about the matter, Selima dear," Priscilla chided. "Your family's reputation is at stake! It would be one thing if Severus was being more discreet about it, but his flaunting his lover in public will only reflect poorly on his family. If he cannot see that, it is your duty as his mother to make him understand."

Priscilla had always been overbearing, and one thing Selima hated was being told what do. She would accept that from her husband, because that was her duty as a wife, but not from some stuck-up bitch who had always looked down her nose at Selima in school for being foreign-born and from a merchant family that had actually earned their wealth instead of simply inheriting it. Severin had not been Selima's first choice as a husband, but she had taken a small, spiteful pleasure in marrying into a family that outranked Priscilla's, instantly elevating her status over that of Priscilla and the other girls who had looked down on her. 

Selima drew herself up, lifting her head proudly, and gave Priscilla a look so cold that the other woman flinched a little, and Elaine visibly shuddered and surreptitiously checked her tea cup, as if expecting to see ice crystals forming on it. "I think people will overlook Severus's...eccentricities...in light of his role in defeating Voldemort." Both women flinched again at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "He risked his life spying on the Death Eaters, fought heroically in the Final Battle, and he guarded and instructed Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World. How many other people can say the same?" 

Priscilla and Elaine both winced. The Parkinsons, while they were not actual Death Eaters, had aligned themselves closely with the Malfoy family, an alliance that they were hasty to disavow after Lucius was killed and the Dark Lord defeated. The Baddocks, on the other hand, had not allied with the Death Eaters, but neither had they offered their support to Dumbledore, and could make no claims to heroism.

"Professor Lupin also is a hero of the war," Selima continued. "I am not saying that I approve of the match, but I am resigned to it. Severus has made his decision, and he is as stubborn as any Snape; once his mind is made up, he cannot be swayed. Now I must make the best of the situation, which is not totally unsalvageable."  "How can you say that, Selima?" Elaine exclaimed. "What possible good could come out of this?"

Selima allowed a cool smile to cross her lips. "We are not living in the same world we did twenty years ago, or even one year ago, Elaine. We must learn to change with the times. Professor Lupin is very well-connected: he is a close friend of the new Minister of Magic, not to mention Dumbledore, whose star has never shone brighter now that he has proved he was right about Voldemort all along, and Lupin is a friend and mentor to the Boy Who Lived. I do not like Lupin, but his connections could well prove useful." She took another sip of tea and told Priscilla. "You might think about making new alliances yourself, Priscilla dear, now that the Malfoys are disgraced. It is fortunate that you did not formally betroth Pansy to Draco, considering how things turned out..."

Priscilla's face turned red with anger and she glared at Selima, who pretended not to notice. "Perhaps you could betroth Pansy to Selima's grandson," Elaine suggested brightly. "That would be quite an advantageous alliance!"

It would be...for the Parkinsons; Selima could see less advantage for the Snapes, seeing as how the Parkinsons were socially tainted by their closeness to the Malfoys. And a major disadvantage would be that Priscilla would become an in-law if Pansy and Theodore married. Still, the girl was of good blood, and there were not that many girls his age of the proper rank and blood purity available as potential brides; she would not dismiss the idea out of hand.

"Of course," Elaine continued, not noticing the glare Priscilla gave her, "I had heard that Theodore was engaged to the Avery girl, but no one could object if you broke it off now. You wouldn't want your grandson marrying the daughter of a convicted Death Eater, anyway."

"There was no formal engagement, as far as I know,"Selima replied, "and even if Andreas hadn't been a Death Eater, it would still be a completely unsuitable match. The Averys were more show than substance, if you know what I mean. I heard that there was barely anything left in their Gringotts account for the Ministry to confiscate."

"Doesn't it bother you, Selima," Priscilla said spitefully, "that your new grandson has none of your blood?"

Of course it did, but Selima was not about to give Priscilla the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. "He has Snape blood," she said coolly, "and that is all that matters. Besides, I could always marry him off to a female Bashir cousin, and then his child would have both Snape and Bashir blood, and it would all come out the same in the end."

Both Elaine and Priscilla seemed impressed by her cold practicality. Actually, Selima had just come up with the idea on the spot to put Priscilla in her place, but it wasn't a bad idea at all; she would have to give it some serious thought. Of course, Theodore needed to finish school and be properly educated in his new duties, but once he had settled into his role as the Snape heir, she could begin having parties and formal dinners--in honor of his graduation, perhaps, when he finished school--and introduce him to her side of the family. 

She brightened at the thought--not just of Theodore making a proper match, but of the chance to throw a party again, as there had been no social gatherings at Snape Manor in nearly twenty years, ever since Severin had retired from the Ministry, disowned his son, and become a virtual recluse. Selima missed those gatherings; she had relished her role as hostess. Arranging and carrying out a party for the pureblood elite was a delicate matter: everything must be just so, from the flowers to the food to the invitation list, and each guest must be greeted and flattered according to rank, without being overly obsequious and without offending the other guests. 

It was not an easy task, but Selima had enjoyed the challenge and took pride in the fact that her parties had always been a success, and that no one had ever been able to find fault with her as a hostess. It might be nice to open up Snape Manor once again...but on the other hand, Severus would probably insist on bringing his werewolf lover to any party she threw, just out of spite and sheer pigheadedness. She sighed, silently cursing her son for his poor choice in lovers.

*** 

Elaine and Priscilla had made no further comments about Lupin, but it still rankled that people were laughing and sneering at the Snapes behind their backs because of the werewolf, and it rankled that she'd been forced to defend Lupin in order to defend her family.

After brooding for nearly an hour, Selima went down to the kitchen, where Vorcher was arranging sandwiches and pastries on plates. "Mistress!" he said, sounding startled. "Vorcher will have tea ready in a few minutes." He glanced at the clock to see if he was running late.

"I'll take over," Selima said abruptly. "Go find Professor Lupin and ask him if he will assist me in the kitchen."

"M-Mistress?" Vorcher stammered, staring at her in shock.

"I gave you an order," Selima snapped. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No, Mistress!" Vorcher cried, then immediately turned and ran out of the room.

He returned a few minutes later with Lupin, who smiled at Selima pleasantly and asked, "How may I help you, Lady Selima?"

For some reason, his politeness irritated her more than any rudeness would have, but all she said was, "Could you please arrange the petit fours on that plate?" 

"Of course," Lupin replied. 

"Vorcher, take that tray to the sunroom and wait for us there."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher said obediently. He picked up a large tray laden with teapot, cups and saucers, spoons, cream, sugar, and lemon slices, and hurried out of the kitchen.

They worked in silence for a couple of minutes, and Lupin did not ask why Selima needed his assistance in a task that could have been left to the house-elf. "Why?" she finally asked.

"Why what?" Lupin asked, his blue eyes guileless and innocent.

Selima thought he knew perfectly well what, but she answered his question anyway. "Why did you persuade Severus to return to this family and make Theodore his heir? I know that his pride and his temper would have caused him to walk away if you hadn't stopped him. It was you who convinced him to stay for the dinner the last time you were here, and I suspect it was you who convinced him to bring Theodore here today, since Severus clearly considers it a waste of time. Why are you helping me despite the fact that I have insulted you numerous times?"

Lupin set aside the plate of pastries and met her gaze, staring at her thoughtfully, but made no reply; he seemed to be searching for the right words to say. When he remained silent, Selima continued, "It can't be the money, because you rejected my offer to buy you off. I thought perhaps you wanted to secure a better inheritance and social position for Theodore, but now I'm not so sure. You don't seem to place much importance on such things, and the Nott inheritance would have allowed Theodore to live comfortably, if not as lavishly as the Snape inheritance would. You made it clear that you think Severin and I were bad parents, so why have you forced Severus to return home to a family he despises, to a world in which you will never be accepted and will always be regarded with scorn?"

"Well," Lupin said, smiling faintly, "you can be blunt when you wish, despite the pureblood tendency to dance around words, never saying what they really mean."

"I don't believe that I have ever refrained from speaking my mind to you, Professor Lupin," Selima replied coolly.

"No need to be polite to a werewolf, after all," Lupin said, but he sounded amused rather than offended.

"I adapt to the situation at hand," Selima told him. "If you were, say, a Malfoy, I would broach the subject more obliquely, but since you don't mince words, Professor, I see no reason to do so, either."

"It wasn't a criticism," Lupin said cheerfully. "I find it quite refreshing. The answer to your question is quite simple, Lady Selima, but I am not sure you will understand it."

"Don't condescend to me, Professor," Selima snapped.

"Love," Lupin said quietly, and Selima stared at him in confusion. "I love Severus, and I love Theodore, and I want them to be happy. Theo needed a home and a family--which is not necessarily the same thing as an inheritance. He doesn't need money or a title; he needs to feel loved and protected, and that is why I wanted Severus to adopt him. Which, incidentally, worked on your behalf because Severus is still enough of a pureblood to want to give Theo an inheritance of his own, since he would likely lose his claim to the Nott estate after he was adopted. Severus agreed to return to the family fold more for Theo's sake than his own."

Which explained Severus's continued reluctance to return to the Manor; he treated each visit as it were a torture session to be endured. Who would ever have thought that a Snape could be so self-sacrificing? Selima shook her head, then frowned. "You said that you want both Theodore and Severus to be happy..."

"You're right," Lupin said, smiling a little, although the expression on his face was still grave. "It's not only for Theo's sake that I urged a reconciliation. This long estrangement from his family has caused Severus pain, though he would never admit it. I would like Severus to make peace with his family--at least as much as is possible. I may be an idealistic Gryffindor, but I know that a fairy tale happy ending is rather unlikely in this situation." He paused, as if waiting for a reply, but Selima had none for him. She knew how to play Slytherin politics with the best of them, knew how to handle ambition and treachery, but had no idea how to deal with what appeared to be sincere, unselfish love and idealism. Lupin turned away and continued arranging the petit fours on the plate. "By the way," he said casually, "I really don't care if you insult me, Lady Selima; I'm used to it by now, you see. But it isn't really helping your case with Severus."

Selima felt her face flush with frustration and irritation; it was so unfair that she had to rely on the werewolf to make her son do his duty! Lupin gave her an almost sympathetic smile, irritating her further.

"You don't have to like me, Lady Selima," Lupin said. "But as we seem to be working towards the same goal--more or less--perhaps we should set aside our differences and call a truce?"

Lupin held out his hand, and Selima just stared at it for a moment, then very reluctantly reached out and shook it. "Very well, Professor." She gave him a hard look. "So long--" _And only so long,_ she silently added. "--as we are working towards a common goal." 

Lupin ignored the implied threat in her eyes and her voice. "Thank you, Lady Selima; I know this hasn't been easy for you," he said with apparent sincerity; she could detect no trace of mockery or sarcasm. "And please feel free to call me 'Remus'."

"I prefer 'Professor,'" Selima said coldly; she was only willing to go so far with this "truce".

"As you wish," Lupin said pleasantly; she almost wished that he would argue with her, despite their newly-declared truce, and wondered if he was aware of how much his politeness got on her nerves.

"Mother?" Severus asked, leaning through the doorway of the kitchen, looking around suspiciously. 

"Severus," Selima said coolly, nodding at him in acknowledgment. "If you'll wait in the sunroom, tea will be ready in a minute."

Her son scowled at her, not moving from the doorway. "I was curious as to what you needed Lupin's help for. Doesn't Vorcher usually handle meal preparations?"

"It's all right, Severus," Lupin said sweetly. "I don't mind. Your mother and I were just having a nice little chat." Lupin gave him an innocent smile, and Severus turned his scowl on his lover. 

Selima took some comfort in knowing that at least she wasn't the only one that Lupin took pleasure in annoying. "Everything's ready," Selima declared, stacking plates of sandwiches, scones, and the petit fours on tiered trays. "If the two of you would help me with the trays..."

"Of course," Lupin said instantly, smiling brightly as if nothing would please him more, picking up one set of trays, and Severus picked up the other, still scowling. He looked back and forth from his mother to his lover suspiciously as they headed to the sunroom, but Lupin appeared to be cheerfully oblivious.

Vorcher and the two boys were waiting for them there. The house-elf poured out tea for everyone, then discreetly drew back, far away enough not to intrude on their conversation, but close enough to respond quickly to a summons. Selima took a sip of tea, thinking to herself that Lucius Malfoy and Thaddeus Nott had been fools to brutalize their house-elves to the point where they were so frightened that they were barely able to function; a well-trained servant was worth its weight in gold. They had lost their servants in the end, and for what? To prove that they were strong enough to bully a house-elf around? There were far more subtle and effective ways to demonstrate one's power. 

Lucius, at least, should have known better, but it had secretly pleased Selima to see him suffer the humiliation of having everyone know that he had been tricked into freeing his house-elf by a teenage boy. She'd had little love for Lucius, who had ended her husband's career at the Ministry and--she had thought--stolen their son from them by convincing him to join the Death Eaters. She also suspected that Lucius had killed his own parents when he tired of waiting to inherit the Malfoy estate, and since Lucius's mother had been her friend, Selima had taken a great deal of satisfaction in hearing that he had literally been stabbed in the back by his own wife--one betrayal repaid with another. She never would have suspected that soft, spoiled little Narcissa would have had the gumption to do something like that, but good for her.

Thaddeus Nott had been a bully and a sadist, and Selima was pleased and relieved to see that Theodore did not seem to have inherited his biological father's faults. A little ruthlessness was a desirable trait among the pureblood elite, but there was such a thing as going overboard, particularly when a love for cruelty was combined with a lack of self-control, as in Thaddeus's case. But neither could a pureblood heir be weak, and Selima had worried a little that Theodore might turn out to be like Marta, cringing and cowardly. So she had secretly been pleased when the boy had shown some spirit by standing up to Severin the day the adoption was finalized, although of course she would never tell him that, not wanting to encourage insolence towards one's elders.

She was even more pleased to see that his initial reluctance at studying the family histories had changed to enthusiasm. "The histories really are interesting, Prof--" He caught sight of Selima's disapproving frown and hastily changed his words to, "I mean, Father." Good; he was also perceptive. "Did you know that one of the early Snape lords was a friend of Salazar Slytherin?"

"Yes, that would be Lord Sebastian," Severus said. "It's always been a point of pride in the Snape family."

"My, the purebloods certainly seem to be fond of alliteration," Lupin said with an amused smile. "Is there anyone in your family whose name didn't start with an 'S'?"

Selima glared at Lupin, although the same thought had occurred to her more than once; she had occasionally wondered if the fact that her name started with an 'S' had factored into Severin's decision to choose her as his bride. "It's something of a tradition in the Snape family," she informed Lupin coldly. "The sons' names always start with an 'S,' and most of the daughters' as well."

"Theo's Snape ancestor was named Melisandre," Dylan said with a grin. "Her name doesn't start with an 'S,' but there is an 'S' sound in the middle of it."

"Appropriate too," Lupin pointed out, "as the Snape family crest is a serpent, and the Melisandre of myth was also a serpent."

"I guess I'm breaking the tradition, then," Theodore said. "I don't have to change my name, do I?" His tone of voice was joking, but his eyes flickered over to Selima nervously as if he actually expected her to tell him to change his name to one that started with an "S".

Selima gave him a small, cool smile. "We seem to be breaking a great many traditions of late," she said, glancing pointedly at her son. "I suppose one more won't hurt."

Lupin laughed gently, and Severus gave her a startled look. "Was that a joke, Mother?" he asked suspiciously.

"Have you ever known me to be so frivolous, Severus?" Selima asked coolly. She ignored his confused look and picked up one of the petit fours and bit into it. "Thank you for bringing these, Professor Lupin; they're delicious." 

"You're welcome, Lady Selima," Lupin said politely, his eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement. 

It was actually worth being civil to the werewolf just to see the look on Severus's face, as if he were trying to figure out whether they had both gone mad or were plotting together against him--and as if he couldn't decide which scenario would be worse. It was a little petty of her, no doubt, but she did enjoy discomfiting him after everything he had put her through. Feeling a bit more cheerful, she ate another of the pastries; they were very good, after all, and there was no point in letting them go to waste just because the werewolf had brought them.

Theodore looked a little puzzled, but decided not to get involved, which Selima thought showed good sense on his part. "And that ancestor who married a Rosier woman?" he said. "I read his diary, and it says that when his wife bore him no children after several years of marriage, his family urged him to divorce her and marry someone else. But he loved her so much that he refused, and chose to adopt one of his nephews as his heir instead."

"Wow, that's pretty romantic for a pureblood," Dylan said, sounding impressed.

Lupin laughed, "So there are a few sentimental Snapes in the family tree!"

"Very few," Selima said sourly. "I suppose it's fortunate that Lord Simon didn't pass on his genes, just in case such sentiment might be hereditary."

"Well, it wasn't a total loss," Theodore said practically. "His parents weren't too pleased about it, but the Rosiers were grateful that he didn't send their daughter back home to them in disgrace, and they became strong allies of the Snapes for many years even though there were no more marriages between the two families."

"So you have been paying attention to what you're reading," Selima said approvingly.

"Yes, Grandmother," the boy said politely. He looked at Lupin, who nodded at him encouragingly, and Selima frowned. "I did have a few questions about the financial records, if you don't mind," Theodore continued.

Selima's irritation was quickly forgotten; Severus had never shown any interest in such things, which had infuriated her. Oh, he had dutifully listened to her lectures, but it was always clear that he was bored out of his mind and couldn't wait to return to his magical studies. She had often worried about what would happen to the estate after Severin died, since Severus clearly had no interest in running it. He would probably let her continue to oversee it as she always had, but she wouldn't be around forever, either. It was gratifying to see the new heir actually taking an interest in his responsibilities. 

"Of course not," Selima replied aloud. "What would you like to know?"

"I didn't expect the Snape holdings to be this diverse," Theodore said. "The Notts aren't as wealthy as the Snapes, of course, but we--they--don't own stock in so many businesses, like the art gallery and the Wizard Supply stores. And I've never heard Draco mention anything about the Malfoys making business investments, but I suppose he wouldn't be interested in such things anyway..."

"Because Narcissa spoiled him rotten, never forcing him to assume the responsibilities of a proper heir," Selima finished. "But then again, I doubt that Lucius would have been willing to share his power, even with his own son, so perhaps it isn't all her fault. But you're right, Theodore, and I'm glad that you were clever enough to notice it." The boy seemed pleased by her praise, and Lupin grinned proudly, although Severus regarded her warily. Selima continued, "The pureblood elite think it gauche to discuss financial matters openly. The Malfoys and their ilk like to give the impression that they're so wealthy that they can spend money like water without worrying about earning more to replace it--which is rather shortsighted on their part."

"But Lucius Malfoy did have a job," Dylan pointed out. "An important, well-paying job with the Ministry of Magic. So did Theo's dad--I mean, Mr. Nott."

"Yes, but they probably took the jobs more as a means of forging political connections than they did for the salaries," Selima said. "If you could examine the financial records of the important pureblood families, you would probably find that there is more money going out than coming into their Gringotts accounts."

Everyone turned to look at Severus, who reluctantly nodded. "Yes, that is correct, at least in the case of the Notts. I had access to their financial records as your guardian, Theodore, and Morrigan and I went over them very carefully while preparing our suit against the Ministry. Your father--I mean, Thaddeus--was spending more than he earned, but not enough to deplete the family wealth, at least, not for many years. He probably figured that by the time that happened, the Death Eaters would be ruling the wizarding world anyway, and that they would divide up the estates of their fallen enemies."

"The pureblood elite don't like to dirty their hands with business matters," Selima said with a bitter smile. "They consider it to be beneath them--so middle class, as they say. Old money versus new money." She had heard such taunts often enough, as the daughter of a merchant family. 

"But Lord Severin married you," Lupin said, looking intrigued. "For your family's business connections as well as to bring new blood into the family, you said. So he must be more open-minded than he appears at first glance."

"My father?" Severus said incredulously. "Open minded?"

"Farsighted, let us say," Selima said. "Much more so than any of his peers. Most of the purebloods like to pretend that their money will never run out, but eventually it will--not in this generation or even the next, perhaps, but eventually it will all be gone if they do not replenish the supply. Severin was wise enough to see this, and he let me handle our business investments as I saw fit so long as I was discreet about it."

"I see," Theodore said, looking interested.

"The stock in the Wizarding Supply store chain was a very good bargain," Selima continued, gloating just a little, although the deal had been finalized years ago. She'd had no one to share her business triumphs with except her Bashir relatives, whom she no longer saw very often. The pureblood women she associated with found such talk distasteful; Selima's late friend Anya Diggory nee Gravenor was probably the only one who would have listened without scorn or condescension. Severin appreciated her talent for business and finance, but he didn't care to dwell on the details of such matters; it was her job, after all, to deal with these things so that he didn't have to. 

She had to admit to herself that it was satisfying to finally have an appreciative audience, so she explained further, "The Riggs had built it up into an extremely profitable business, but they sold it at a loss in their haste to leave England after their son was revealed to have been a Death Eater. I advised some of my friends to purchase shares while the price was low, but they didn't heed me." She shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Their loss; we more than tripled our investment."

"But how do you keep track of all these investments?" Theodore asked curiously. "Surely you don't have time to oversee each business personally."

"Finally!" Selima said to Severus. "An heir who shows interest in carrying out his duties." Her son just shook his head, with a small, sardonic snort of amusement, and the werewolf chuckled softly. To Theodore she said, "Of course I don't run the businesses myself, but I make sure that they're managed by competent employees, and I check the books regularly, as well as make unscheduled visits from time to time to discourage any skimming." She smiled slyly. "Of course, occasionally bribes need to be passed to the proper official, which is an entirely different manner..."

"Yes, ma'am," Theodore said, not looking surprised. 

"I will go over our investments with you in more detail, if you like," Selima continued, "and take you to visit some of the businesses we own." Severus opened his mouth to protest, and Selima clarified in an irritated voice, "When you are not too busy with your studies. Next summer, perhaps, after you pass your N.E.W.T.s."

"Yes, ma'am," Theodore repeated obediently.

Feeling pleased with the new heir's progress, Selima allowed Lupin to change the subject to school, and the boys discussed their current assignments and, with more enthusiasm, the upcoming Quidditch season.

"I'm sure we'll win this year, Professor!" Dylan said. "Theo's doing great, and Millicent's an even better Keeper than Bletchley was!"

"Of course, it all comes down to Malfoy catching the Snitch before Potter does," Theodore interjected. "Unless we can manage to get a hundred-fifty point lead."

Selima repressed a sigh; she didn't really understand the fascination the game held for most people, particularly teenage boys, but at least it was a socially acceptable pastime. "I hope you do well at your next match," she said politely.

"You must come see it, Lady Selima!" Lupin said enthusiastically as his lover shot a glare his way. "The first game of the season is Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the first weekend of November."

"Perhaps I will," Selima said, enjoying the horrified look on Severus's face. "It will depend on how Severin is doing, of course."

"Oh, of course," Lupin said, looking chastened. "Well, I hope you'll be able to make it. It would be nice for Theo's family to be on hand to cheer him on."

"You and I will be there, Lupin," Severus said in a slightly huffy voice.

"By the way, Severus," Selima said, "what has become of your mysterious friend, the one who may or may not be a pureblood heir?"

Her son's black eyes went panicky for just a second, before a carefully disinterested look fell over his face. "I fear I have troubled you for nothing, Mother," he said in an offhand manner. "My friend denies any connection with the Diggorys."

"If he had been willing to discuss it with you, then you wouldn't have come to me in the first place, now would you?" Selima retorted. "You told me yourself that you were certain he was a pureblood."

"Our friend," Lupin said sternly, "does not wish to dig up the past, and we must respect his wishes." 

"It's getting late," Severus said hastily, rising to his feet. "We should be getting back to school. The boys have some real studying to do, after all."

"Thank you for the tea, Lady Selima," Dylan said politely.

"Thank you for the tea, Grandmother," Theodore echoed. "I'll take some of the histories back to school with me as you suggested, if that's all right with you."

"Of course," Selima said with an approving smile. "Just make sure that you take good care of them."

"I'll be very careful with them," Theodore promised.

"When he's done with those, you can bring him back here to get started on the next set," Selima told Severus. 

"Of course," Lupin said in a chirpy tone. "We look forward to it." Severus heaved a sigh of exasperation, but didn't contradict his lover.

"Good day, Mother," he said, nodding at Selima curtly. "I'll continue owling Father's potion to you."

"Thank you, Severus," Selima replied, and Severus gave her a suspicious look, as if wondering why she was being so agreeable, then departed with Lupin and the boys.

Overall, Selima was pleased. Severus was being stubborn and disagreeable, but that was nothing new, and the werewolf, as much as she hated to admit it, was proving useful in getting him to cooperate. And best of all, his new heir was showing a great deal of potential.

She did not intend to let the matter of Severus's "friend" drop, though, even if Severus no longer wanted to pursue it. If Cynric Diggory--and indirectly, his wife, Anya--had been murdered, then Selima intended to see that her old friends received some measure of justice, or at least revenge. And if the "friend" was not a Diggory, but belonged to some other pureblood family, the information could still prove valuable, perhaps as a bargaining chip, if not right now, then someday. Almost every pureblood family had skeletons in their closet that they did not want revealed...

*** 

"Thank you for distracting my mother," Snape told Theodore when they returned home to Hogwarts. "I was afraid she was going to press me further about Bleddri."

"I really am finding the histories interesting, sir," Theodore said. "I thought they'd be boring, but they're not. You...um, we...have some fascinating relatives."

"Yeah, I want to read more about this Simon Snape and his Rosier wife," Dylan said eagerly.

Lupin smiled at his sons. "You made a good impression on Lady Selima today, Theo."

"I find her kind of intimidating, but you handled her well," Dylan agreed.

Theodore shrugged, but looked pleased. "She's not so bad. My real grandmother was way worse."

Snape wondered what Theodore's grandmother had been like, to make Selima seem "not so bad" in comparison. Then again, Thaddeus had to have learned his abusive, bullying ways from someone, most likely his parents. Snape despised his parents, but he had to admit that they could have been worse.

"Besides," Theodore added, "I want to do my duty as the Snape heir. Not so much for her sake, but for yours, sir."

Snape didn't really care whether Theodore could memorize the family tree or properly manage the family finances or not, but he was touched by the boy's desire to please him. "You're doing a fine job," he said, laying his hand on Theodore's shoulder, and his son beamed at him. And then, because he was still enough of a Snape to feel uncomfortable about displaying sentiment, he lightened the mood a little by saying to Lupin sarcastically, "You seem to have made quite an impression on my mother as well, Lupin. What exactly did the two of you talk about in the kitchen?"

"Oh, this and that," Lupin said vaguely. "Nothing much, just a friendly little chat."

"Lady Selima does not have 'friendly little chats' with werewolves."

"Well, I am part of the family now," Lupin said sweetly. "We were just getting to know each other a little better."

"Please tell me that you didn't use those exact words with my mother," Snape said. "No, wait, you couldn't have, because she would have killed you--or at least tried to, and I didn't see any signs of a battle in the kitchen."

"Isn't it obvious?" Dylan laughed. "They were talking about you, Professor!"

"That's what I was afraid of," Snape grumbled.

Lupin smiled. "I told you that your mother and I had reached an agreement of sorts. She doesn't like me, but she's accepted that she'll have to put up with me in order to keep you and Theo in the family. We just sort of...formalized that agreement, you might say."

Snape thought there was a little more to it than that, and shook his head. His mother and Lupin conspiring together against him--now that was a scary thought! Lupin just laughed and slipped his arms around Snape, nuzzling him affectionately, and the boys grinned. Oh well, he supposed it was worth it to have three of them looking so happy, and being part of the Snape family seemed to give Theodore a sense of belonging. Snape sighed a little and consoled himself with the thought that it must be annoying his mother to no end to have to make an alliance with a werewolf.

*** 

The members of the R.A. had been discreetly sounding out prospective members, but Stewart Ackerley found, to his frustration, that none of the Ravenclaws besides Corbin seemed interested in pursuing a grudge against the Slytherins. The studious Ravenclaws tended to get less involved in school politics and feuds, and many of them were too busy studying for their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s to care about what the Slytherins were up to.

"The war's over," a stressed-out Michael Corner said. "Some of the Slytherins are slimy gits, to be sure, but they're no danger to anyone." Then, remembering that Stewart's father had been killed in the war, he said more kindly, "I'm really sorry about your dad, Stewart. I can't blame you for being a little suspicious of the Slytherins, but they've been cleared by Dumbledore, and at least a dozen witnesses saw Draco's crowd fighting against the Death Eaters during the battle. And I really can't risk ticking off Snape when I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to pass my Potions N.E.W.T. or not."

The girls were even worse; they all fawned over Dylan Rosier, even though he was now dating Hermione Granger, and wouldn't hear any criticism of him, and by extension, of his House.

"Dylan is a hero," Padma Patil declared.

"He's been very kind to me," Gabrielle Delacour said.

"Of course, Draco Malfoy's still insufferable," Padma added, "though he's not as bad as he used to be. And that new student Aric Dietrich is a real jerk. But they're just annoying, not dangerous."

"The Houses should be learning to cooperate, like the Sorting Hat said," Lisa Turpin said quietly.

So Stewart sighed and gave up trying to recruit the other Ravenclaws, but at least Corbin sounded intrigued and agreed to come to the meeting.

*** 

Things did not go much better in Hufflepuff. When Susan hinted to her friends and housemates Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan that the Slytherins might be less than trustworthy and that perhaps someone should be keeping an eye on them, Ernie nodded, but Hannah frowned.

"Well, I don't really like some of them, but they did fight on our side," Hannah said.

"Draco fought for the Death Eaters at first," Susan pointed out.

"True," Hannah admitted, "but he did switch sides, and I don't think that he'd feel much loyalty to the Death Eaters after his father tried to kill him."

Ernie shuddered. "Merlin's Beard, that's cold! Can you imagine, your own dad trying to kill you?"

"It's just, sometimes I wonder," Susan said. "I mean, after the first war, a lot of the Death Eaters pretended to switch sides, saying that You-Know-Who had forced them to join with the Imperius Curse."

"You think some of the Slytherins might still be Death Eater sympathizers?" Ernie asked, looking worried.

Hannah thought it over, then said, "I don't really think so. The Death Eaters hurt them, too--Theodore's and Draco's fathers tried to kill them, and the Death Eaters killed Dylan's mother, grandmother, and uncles. Besides, You-Know-Who is dead, and the Death Eaters are all dead or in prison, so the danger is over."

"Yeah, that's true," Ernie said, sounding relieved.

"Except for Rabastan Lestrange," Susan reminded them.

"Yes, but I'm sure the Aurors will catch him eventually," Hannah said reassuringly, thinking that fear of the at-large Death Eater might be what was behind Susan's renewed distrust of the Slytherins. "And he won't dare come near Hogwarts with both Dumbledore and Harry here."

"Yeah, and he's nothing without You-Know-Who and the other Death Eaters!" Ernie said. "That's why he ran like a coward!"

Susan could see that persisting would only make them suspicious, so she dropped the subject. Maybe later, if the R.A. really did find evidence that the Slytherins were up to no good, she would try again.

Tristan tried a slightly different approach. Even though he was a first-year, the members of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team accorded him a certain amount of respect because of his relation to Cedric, and he started a conversation in the common room with two of his teammates, talking about how great it would be "to beat Slytherin this year, and show those stuck-up gits what we're made of!"

"Yeah!" Kevin Whitby said enthusiastically. "They're always looking down on us, calling us 'the other House'!"

"The other House?" Tristan asked.

Zacharias Smith grimaced. "Not brave enough for Gryffindor, not smart enough for Ravenclaw--"

"Not sneaky and snooty enough for Slytherin!" Kevin finished mockingly. "But now that we have you on the team, maybe we can wipe those smirks off their faces!" 

"Maybe we can even win the Cup this year!" Zacharias said. "Although most people think Gryffindor will take it; they have Harry Potter on their team, after all--"

"The great Harry Potter, who can do no wrong!" Tristan sneered. "The great hero of the wizarding world!" If he was such a great hero, if he was strong enough to kill You-Know-Who, then how come he hadn't been able to save Cedric?

The other two boys gave him a startled look. "Well, he is a hero," Zacharias pointed out. "He did kill You-Know-Who." He let out a little sigh of relief, remembering the terror of previous years, when a mysterious monster had been stalking and petrifying the Muggle-born students, when the supposed-murderer Sirius Black had been at large, and when it had finally been revealed that You-Know-Who had returned. At times he resented all the glory that was showered upon Gryffindor and Harry Potter, but he was grateful that the threat of You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters was over. He smiled at Tristan, and said in a lighter tone, "Not that I'd mind beating him at Quidditch, mind you!"

Kevin laughed, and Tristan forced himself to laugh, too. Most of the other students looked up to Potter, and he couldn't afford to alienate them yet. Besides, they were getting a little off-track; he had the Slytherins to deal with first. But later...maybe he could find a way to knock Harry Potter off his pedestal.

"Listen," Tristan said, lowering his voice, "do you really think that the threat is completely over? I mean, sure, You-Know-Who is dead, but maybe some people might want to carry on his work..."

"But the Death Eaters are dead or in Azkaban," Kevin said, looking puzzled.

"Not all of them," Tristan pointed out. "One of the Lestranges escaped, and Narcissa Malfoy and Delia Avery were pardoned. And there are a lot of Death Eaters' kids still at Hogwarts..."

"You mean Draco and his gang?" Zacharias asked. "But they turned out to be okay, right?" His voice sounded just a little uncertain. 

"Are they?" Tristan asked. "Or did everyone assume that they weren't involved because they were just kids?"

"But what can they do without You-Know-Who?" Kevin protested.

"There were Dark Wizards before he came along," Tristan said. "And there will be Dark Wizards after him, maybe not as powerful, but they could still be dangerous. And most of the Dark Wizards of the past came out of Slytherin House..."

"Haven't we had enough of that kind of talk?!" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked sharply, and Tristan jumped a little; he hadn't noticed the other boy frowning and gradually edging closer to their little group. "This is the kind of thing that nearly tore the school apart last year! The Headmaster says it's because of the different Houses cooperating together that the Death Eaters were defeated, and Harry said the same thing! All those so-called Death Eaters' kids fought in the final battle, and Pansy and Millicent joined the D.A. in working at the field hospital, remember, Zac? And they didn't just change bandages, either--they helped us fight off the Death Eaters and Dementors that attacked the hospital."

"Yeah, that's right," Zacharias agreed, nodding. "Pansy and Millicent are definitely okay."

"So stop trying to stir up trouble," Justin said sternly. 

"But didn't you get Petrified when the Chamber of Secrets was opened?" Tristan objected. "Haven't the Slytherins called you nasty names like 'Mudblood'? How can you stick up for them?"

"The thing with the Chamber of Secrets was You-Know-Who's doing; the Slytherins didn't have anything to do with it," Justin replied firmly. "That's what the Headmaster told me. And yeah, the Slytherins can be pretty obnoxious sometimes, but they've changed a lot over the past year. Besides, being a snob doesn't automatically make someone a Dark Wizard." He said to Zacharias and Kevin, "You two should know better," and the boys looked sheepish. To Tristan he said, "You've only just started at Hogwarts, so all you know about the Slytherins is gossip and hearsay. You should get to know them before you judge them." 

Tristan was on the verge of retorting that he knew that they'd killed Cedric, but Justin was already walking away, so he just fumed silently. Besides, Isabelle had said that they should be careful and not draw too much attention to themselves.

"What's with him?" Kevin asked, staring after Justin curiously.

"Well, he is right," Zacharias said.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Kevin agreed, a little skeptically, "but it's a little odd to see him so gung-ho about defending the Slytherins, don't you think?"

"Everyone's big on this inter-House cooperation stuff now, I guess," Zacharias said with a shrug. "Now, getting back to our chances of winning the Quidditch Cup..."

The two older boys were eager to show up Slytherin on the Quidditch Pitch, but Tristan wanted to do more than beat them at Quidditch. He thought that Zac and Kevin probably still had some reservations about the Slytherins' true loyalties, but Finch-Fletchley had just set back his efforts to recruit them for the R.A. It might be possible to play on those fears and convince them that the Slytherins were a threat, but it would take some time. He sighed and gave up for the moment, and joined in on their discussion about Quidditch.

*** 

Susan did make one new recruit, her boyfriend Dean in Gryffindor. He was already a little suspicious of the Slytherins, and adding to his confusion and resentment was the fact that the lines between the Houses, which had been so clearly drawn before, were getting a little blurred: Gryffindor girls were flirting with Slytherin boys, and Lupin, who had been the Gryffindors' favorite teacher, was living in the dungeon with Snape, and while he didn't openly favor the Slytherins the way Snape did, he seemed to regard them with a special kind of protectiveness and affection.

He had even gone to the Slytherin Quidditch tryouts to cheer Theodore Nott (who was now Theodore Snape) on, and what was worse, Hermione and several other Gryffindor girls had gone there, too; Hermione was even dating a Slytherin, the oh-so-smooth Dylan Rosier! Lupin hadn't bothered to come to the Gryffindor tryouts, but Hermione and Ginny had told Dean that he was being childish and petty when they overheard him complaining about it. Hermione said it was only natural that Lupin would want to watch his foster son try out for the Slytherin team, and Ginny pointed out that he had congratulated Dean and Seamus when he'd heard that they'd made the Gryffindor team. 

Ron had rolled his eyes behind the girls' backs, and after they left, said sympathetically, "Lupin's definitely gone soft on the Slytherins, but I suppose it can't be helped, what with him and Snape being a couple and all." He sighed and shook his head. "Don't know what he sees in Snape; Lupin's a nice guy, but maybe he hasn't got such good taste in men."

"Love is blind, I guess," Seamus had said good-naturedly. Since he'd started pursuing Lavender, he'd made a point of being reasonable about the Slytherins, no doubt to impress her. 

That was beginning to cause friction between the two best friends. When Dean cautiously broached the subject of keeping an eye on the Slytherins, not yet mentioning the R.A., Seamus said impatiently, "How long are you going to keep that up, mate? The war is over! Even Harry said it was important to get along with the Slytherins, and if he doesn't hold a grudge against them, why should you?"

"Has everyone forgotten that some of their fathers were Death Eaters?" Dean snapped.

"Just because their fathers were bad, doesn't mean that they are, too!" Seamus argued. "I've got an uncle on my father's side who's sort of the black sheep of the family, been in and out of trouble all his life, but that doesn't mean the rest of the family is like him! And anyway, they fought on our side, remember?"

"You used to think the way I do," Dean said accusingly. "You've just changed your tune to get on Lavender's good side because she's so chummy with the Slytherins!"

"Yeah, well, does the fact that you were jealous of Dylan Rosier have anything to do with why you hate the Slytherins so much?" Seamus retorted, looking angry and hurt. "You got into a big fight with Ginny and broke up with her because you thought Rosier was putting the moves on her, and it turns out that you were just being paranoid--it was Hermione he was interested in all along! Maybe you could learn a few things from Lavender about being more open-minded!"

Dean and Seamus didn't speak to each other for a couple of days, alarming their other friends. Eventually, with a little prodding from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, they both apologized, and on the surface, they were best friends again, but things were not quite the same. Despite their apologies, neither of them had changed their opinions about the Slytherins, and they carefully avoided that topic of conversation, which opened a small but unmistakable rift between the two friends, who had previously been able to talk about anything with each other.

*** 

Professor Sprout granted the R.A. use of a vacant classroom for their meetings without any hesitation, since Susan and Isabelle were both well-behaved, responsible students. The club signed on Professor Binns as their official advisor, to keep up the appearance of being a history club, and knowing that the ghostly Professor would take no interest in their meetings, as he took no interest in anything but his history lectures, droning on without seeming to notice or care whether anyone was listening or not. The students often speculated that he still showed up every morning and lectured to an empty classroom even during the Christmas and summer holidays. He gave a distracted nod of consent when Isabelle asked him to be the club advisor, and recommended a few textbooks that they should read, and that was the extent of his involvement with the club.

If any of their friends or housemates expressed curiosity about the club, the R.A. members explained that they had formed it in order to study for their History of Magic O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. And if anyone unsuitable expressed interest in joining, they quickly changed their minds when they found out Binns was involved with the club, assuming that he would be giving lectures, and no one from the R.A. bothered to correct that misapprehension. Seamus knew that Dean had no interest in history, but assumed that he wanted to keep Susan company, so he found nothing suspicious about Dean joining the club.

The new R.A. members, Dean and Corbin, had nothing concrete to add, but shared the same suspicions and fears as the others. Dean also expressed confusion over the fact that the Gryffindors were now expected to befriend the Slytherins who had so recently been their enemies.

"Last year they were out to get us," he complained, "and Draco was bragging about how the Death Eaters were going to take over and wipe out the Mudbloods. And now we're supposed to be all chummy with them? Do people really change that fast?" He shook his head. "It almost feels like they're infiltrating our House. We've got that Pettigrew girl, who's related to that Death Eater, and Allegra Zabini, who comes from a Slytherin family..."

Corbin looked thoughtful. "Actually, the Zabinis weren't Death Eater supporters, although they didn't go out of their way to support Dumbledore, either. But they lost most of their fortune when they wouldn't ally with the Malfoy family. On the other hand, Blaise Zabini is Theodore Nott's best friend, and Nott was the son of a Death Eater."

"He's a Snape now," Dean muttered.

"Still the son of a Death Eater, either way," Tristan said darkly.

"The Zabinis could be innocent," Corbin continued, "or they might have gotten tired of being paupers and decided to ally with the Death Eaters. If so, they'll never admit now." Corbin's voice took on a bitter note. "Anyone associated with the Death Eaters, even indirectly--say, through marriage, like my family--is looked down on. Evan Rosier got his mother, my grandaunt killed, and brought disgrace and suspicion upon the Talbotts. And now of all a sudden, his son calls me 'cousin' and wants to be friends with me!"

"Maybe you should be more friendly with him," Isabelle suggested.

"What?" Corbin asked indignantly.

"To get closer to him in order to gather more information about the Slytherins," Isabelle explained patiently.

"Oh, right," Corbin said sheepishly. "Okay, but he might be a little suspicious if all of a sudden I want to be friends with him after what happened in the library."

"Your friend Gabrielle likes him," Isabelle pointed out. "You could reluctantly give him a chance for her sake."

"Yeah, Rosier's a real ladies' man," Dean said. "He'll find it believable that you're doing it for the sake of a pretty girl. And he's vain enough to think he can win you over with his charm once you get to know him."

"So that's Corbin's mission," Tristan said. "What about the rest of us?"

"We watch, and wait," Isabelle said. Tristan and Stewart did not look satisfied with that, and she added, "And perhaps, to discreetly drop a word here and there into the right ear, to encourage doubt. Surely some people still have a few suspicions about the Slytherins' loyalty."

Tristan nodded, and explained what had happened between himself, Zacharias, Kevin, and Justin. "I think I might be able to bring them around, eventually."

"Not everyone in Gryffindor loves the Slytherins, either," Dean said. "A lot of the kids don't like the fact that Portia and Allegra were Sorted into our House, but I don't know them well enough to ask them to join the R.A. I thought about asking Ron Weasley; I know he doesn't like the Slytherins. But he's close to Hermione, and she's always going on about how we should be friends with the Slytherins, and if she found out about it..."

"We do want to be cautious," Isabelle agreed. "It's probably better that we start off small, anyway. We can always recruit more members in the future, once they prove to be trustworthy."

"Plus Ron is best friends with Harry," Dean continued, frowning a little. "Not that I don't trust Harry; he did defeat You-Know-Who, after all." Tristan scowled, but Dean didn't seem to notice. "But it's a little weird what he was saying about needing to embrace his Slytherin side to do it. I still don't exactly understand what he meant by that."

"All right, then," Isabelle said. "Let's watch the Slytherins closely, and try to encourage our housemates not to be quite so trusting. Corbin will try to get closer to Dylan Rosier, and Dean, maybe you can try to get information about what's going on in Slytherin House from Allegra Zabini. You're working with her brother in Incantations class, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Seamus and I are stuck with Nott--I mean, Snape--and Zabini as partners," he grumbled.

"So take advantage of it," Isabelle told him sternly. "Make nice to them, and to Allegra." Dean reluctantly nodded. "And just in case anyone asks, we were studying chapter ten from Great Wizards of the Middle Ages; we should all probably at least skim it." 

Dean groaned but nodded. "More homework!"

"Think of it as undercover work," Isabelle said with a smile.

"And it is good practice for our History of Magic N.E.W.T.," Susan laughed.

"Oh, and before we leave, we should all sign this contract saying that we will not divulge information about our meetings to outsiders." Isabelle laid a sheet of parchment on the table, along with a pen.

"Is this going to curse us if we break our promise?" Dean asked suspiciously, remembering what had happened to Marietta after she informed on the D.A. to Umbridge.

Isabelle smiled at him sweetly. "What difference does it make? You aren't planning to break your word, are you?"

"Of course not!" Dean said defensively.

"Then you have nothing to worry about," Isabelle said serenely.

Dean still looked a little worried, but picked up the pen and signed the paper, and the other R.A. members followed suit.

*** 

Dean tried to follow Isabelle's advice, but the Slytherin boys were guarded around him and Seamus, and the truth was, he didn't really know what to ask. He couldn't exactly come out and say, "By the way, are you plotting to become Death Eaters and take over the world?" All he could think of was to casually ask how their Quidditch practice was going when they were studying in the library together one day.

"Getting a little worried that we might beat you, Thomas?" Theodore asked slyly. "Trying to find out our strategy?"

"Get over yourself, Nott!" Dean snapped. "Of course I'm not worried, as long as Harry's on our team!"

"We beat you last year," Theodore pointed out calmly. "And my name is Snape now."

"You only beat us because your team cheated!"

"Boy, you Gryffindors are sore losers," Theodore said, smirking. 

"Oh, knock it off you two, before Madam Pince comes around and docks points from us again," Seamus said irritably.

"And our Quidditch strategy is hardly a secret," Blaise pointed out mildly. "Anyone can come out and watch. Several of the Gryffindor girls have been coming to our practices."

One of those girls was of course Zabini's sister, who was a little more forthcoming. She and her friends had been going to the Slytherin practices along with Hermione, Parvati, and Lavender, although they also attended most of the Gryffindor practices as well. Allegra talked to her brother regularly, and she happened to let slip one day in the common room that Lupin and Snape had taken to hanging out in the Slytherin common room in the evenings. "It sounds like fun," Allegra said wistfully. "They bring cookies, and the students make tea or cocoa, and they play chess or card games or just talk. Blaise says that Professor Lupin tells lots of interesting stories about stuff that happened at Hogwarts when he was a kid."

"Hanging out with Snape in my free time does not sound like my idea of fun," Ron said dubiously.

"Pansy and Millicent say that he's changed a lot," Parvati said. "I guess being with Lupin has mellowed him out a bit. They say that Snape doesn't say much during his visits, but once in awhile he'll tell them a story about the old days."

"When he was a Death Eater?" Dean asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Of course not, silly!" Parvati replied. "Just things like the pranks Dylan's father used to play when he was a kid. There was this one time when the Potions students were supposed to dissect rats, and Evan Rosier and his friend Lyall Wilkes set them all free and there were rats running around the dungeon for weeks..."

"How come Professor McGonagall never comes to hang out with us like that?" Allegra asked.

"I don't really want to hang out with McGonagall in my free time, either," Ron muttered.

Dean thought the fact that Snape was regularly meeting with his Slytherins in the evenings was interesting, although he wasn't sure how significant it was, and dutifully reported it to the R.A.

*** 

One morning the Gryffindors sat down to breakfast, laughing and chattering as usual. There was a napkin lying over Portia Pettigrew's plate, and when she picked it up, found a large rat beneath it. She jumped back, shrieking, and two of her yearmates, Kenneth Sloper and Jarrett Jordan, immediately burst out laughing. Some of the older students, including Dean Thomas and Kenneth's brother Jack, laughed as well, although they appeared startled by the prank, and Portia began to cry.

"What a horrible thing to do!" Hermione shouted, looking furious, glaring at all the laughing students, the two first-year boys in particular. "I don't find it one bit funny!"

"Nor do I," said Harry angrily.

"Ease up," Kenneth said, a bit puzzled that Harry Potter would be standing up for a Pettigrew. "The rat's only made of rubber, see?"

"Yeah, it was just a joke," agreed Jarrett. "Besides, haven't you played your fair share of pranks? You and Ron stealing the Weasleys' car in your second year, not to mention sneaking out of the castle at night..."

"And I hear your dad was a legendary prankster," Kenneth added.

Harry flushed and said sharply, "Yeah, I've done a lot of dumb things in the past, but I've never played a prank to deliberately hurt someone's feelings!"

Emma and Chloe tried to comfort Portia, as did Ginny and Parvati. Lavender gave Dean an evil look that was almost worthy of Snape, and snapped, "I can't believe that you could be so mean! What's so funny about making an innocent little girl cry?" Then she got up and joined the crowd of girls fussing over Portia, crooning, "There, there, don't mind those stupid boys."

"She's not exactly an innocent," Dean muttered disgruntledly.

"Maybe, maybe not," Seamus said, a disapproving look in his eyes. "But Gryffindors are supposed to be honorable, and there's no honor in bullying a little girl and making her cry."

Dean instantly forgot about going undercover in order to gather information on the Slytherins. "Then why don't you go hang around with all the other Slytherin suck-ups if you like them so much?" he retorted.

"Maybe I will," Seamus said, looking angry and hurt, and got up to join Lavender and Parvati.

Meanwhile, Allegra's ever-present cheerful smile had vanished, and there was a dangerous glint in her dark eyes as she glared at Kenneth and Jarrett. "Apologize to Portia right now!" she ordered.

"For what?" Kenneth sneered. "I would have thought she'd be happy to see her uncle again!" This time only a few people laughed, but nervously, and the laughter quickly dissipated in the wake of the tension building up around the Gryffindor table. McGonagall rose from her seat at the head table; Lupin got up to follow her, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Snape.

"Make me," Jordan said defiantly to Allegra.

She whipped out her wand and shouted, "Rattus Visio!" just as McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape reached the Gryffindor table. Blaise also ran towards the table when he saw his sister take her wand out, but they were all too late to stop her. Kenneth and Jarrett opened their mouths, but all that came out were frightened squeaks, as their faces sprouted gray fur and lengthened into pointed snouts. Their noses twitched, causing their long whiskers to quiver.

"Rat-Face Hex!" Ron exclaimed in awe. "That's the hex I tried to cast on Malfoy last year, the one that backfired on Bane! Wow, Allegra, you can cast that spell and you're only a first year?"

Allegra smiled proudly, but Snape said dryly, "Perhaps that speaks more of your incompetence than Miss Zabini's talent, Weasley."

"And as a prefect, you certainly shouldn't be praising a student for casting a hex on a classmate, Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall said indignantly.

"Yes, ma'am," Ron mumbled.

"Now what is going on here?" McGonagall demanded. Everyone began talking at once, including the rat-faced boys, who squeaked loudly. 

"SILENCE!" shouted Snape, and the students obeyed with alacrity; the entire room, not just the Gryffindor table, fell silent.

"Thank you, Severus," McGonagall said. "Miss Granger, why don't you tell us what happened?" Hermione quickly explained what had happened, beginning with the prank and ending with Allegra's hex.

"And what are you doing here, Mr. Zabini?" McGonagall asked Blaise.

"She's my sister, I'm responsible for her," he said anxiously. "When I saw her take out her wand--"

"Each student at Hogwarts is responsible for his or her own behavior," McGonagall said, kindly but firmly. "Though it is good of you to be concerned about your sister. Miss Zabini, ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for your actions, and you will serve an hour's detention after school lets out today."

"Please, Professor," Portia begged, "don't punish Allegra, she was only trying to defend me! If you have to give someone detention, give it to me instead!"

McGonagall smiled a little, although she still looked stern. "Your loyalty to each other is admirable, child, but I cannot condone students hexing one another, no matter what the provocation. Miss Zabini's detention stands."

"It's all right, Portia," Allegra assured her friend. "I broke the rules, so I'll accept the punishment."

"You will polish the the silver in the trophy room this afternoon, with no use of magic," McGonagall continued. 

"Yes, Professor," Allegra said respectfully, but she did not look particularly contrite.

McGonagall frowned. "And the next time there is trouble, report it to a prefect or a teacher, understand?"

"Yes, Professor," Allegra repeated meekly.

McGonagall gave her one last suspicious look, then turned to Kenneth and Jordan. "And as for you two," she said in a cold voice, "ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for your cruel and thoughtless prank, and you will also serve detention." She paused to think. "Hagrid is raising another batch of Blast-Ended Skrewts, so I hear, and needs some help taking care of them." The two boys let out dismayed squeaks. "You will report to him afterschool. But first, get yourselves to the hospital wing and have that hex removed." 

They started to leave, but McGonagall stopped them. "And one more thing: your housemates are supposed to be like your family--I trust you don't treat your real family in such a manner! I'm very disappointed in both of you." The boys hung their heads, looking chastened, although the expressions on their rat faces were difficult to read. "Off with you!" The two boys ran off, and McGonagall marched back to the head table.

Snape and Lupin lingered behind; the Potions Master regarded Allegra with a menacing glare. "Um, sir, I apologize for--" Blaise started to say.

"Be silent until I give you leave to speak, Mr. Zabini," Snape said coldly, and Blaise immediately closed his mouth although he looked unhappy and worried. Snape turned back to Allegra and said, "That's very advanced magic for a first-year, Miss Zabini."

"Yes, sir," Allegra said, smiling at him a little nervously.

"Where did you learn that spell?" Snape asked.

"Um..." Allegra said, her eyes flickering towards Blaise.

"From your brother?" Snape asked.

"Um...well...I..."

Snape's lips twitched slightly, and he almost smiled. "You were Sorted into the right House after all, Miss Zabini; you have no talent for lying." He turned back to Blaise. "And clearly you were Sorted into the right House also." Blaise smiled sheepishly. "Five points to Slytherin."

"Sir?" a confused Blaise asked.

"For being such a good teacher," Snape said mildly. "You might consider taking it up as a career when you graduate." Then, without another word, he turned and walked back to the head table, leaving the students staring after him with their mouths hanging open.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Blaise," an amused Lupin said.

"Don't you ever try anything like that again!" Blaise scolded his sister, then hissed into her ear so that only she--and although he did not realize it, Lupin with his keen werewolf senses--could hear, "At least, not when there are witnesses present." In a normal voice, he continued, "It's me who will have to answer to Mother and Father if you get into trouble!"

"I'm sorry, Blaise," Allegra said, but the stubborn look on her face said that she would probably do the same thing again, given the chance. Blaise sighed and returned to the Slytherin table.

Lupin's eyes sparkled with mischief, but he said in a stern voice, "I hope you've learned your lesson, Miss Zabini." Then he leaned over and whispered, "Five points to Gryffindor for defending a friend. But try to think before you act next time; there are better ways to go about it." He winked at Allegra and went back to his place with the other teachers.

Ron shook his head and muttered, "I can't believe that Snape would turn a student's hex into an excuse to give Slytherin points! Well...actually, on second thought, I can."

"But Lupin gave her points for defending Portia!" Harry said with a grin.

"He shouldn't have done that," Hermione said with a frown. "It was wrong to cast the hex, even if it was for a good reason."

"But we Gryffindors are supposed to look out for each other!" Harry said, still grinning, and put his arm around her shoulders for a moment. "Good job, Allegra!"

She beamed up at him, Portia smiled shyly, and Hermione said in an exasperated voice, "Don't encourage her, Harry!" 

Everyone at the table laughed...well, nearly everyone. A few people, Dean and Jack among them, were frowning. But for the most part, the Gryffindors began to regard Allegra and Portia more favorably from then on. Most of them were impressed by Allegra's hex, and several students congratulated her and asked her if she would teach it to them, as Hermione scolded them and threatened them with detention. And while they had been suspicious of Portia up until now, her tears had caused many of them, mainly the girls, to sympathize with her, and they were also impressed by the way she had shown her loyalty to Allegra by pleading with McGonagall to give her the detention instead.

Harry was one of those students. Even though he had been worried that Portia would turn out to be like her uncle, the sight of her bursting into tears when she found the rubber rat sickened him, as it reminded him uncomfortably of an arrogant young James Potter playing cruel pranks on a young Snape, which made him speak more sharply than he otherwise would have when Jarrett and Kenneth seemed to think that he should find it funny. 

_Did they really think I would laugh at a nasty prank like that?_ he thought disgustedly, with just a touch of guilt. James might have, at least the immature version of James he had seen in the Pensieve, although he hoped that the older James would not have. Maybe in the past, Harry would have, at least if the prank had been played on someone like Malfoy instead of a fellow Gryffindor. He hoped that he would never have laughed at the sight of a little girl crying, no matter how much he hated her relatives, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure.

He felt better when Portia stood up for her friend, asking McGonagall to let her serve Allegra's detention. She was a timid little thing, and it probably wasn't easy to confront a teacher like that, especially McGonagall, who was rather intimidating when she was angry, although not as bad as Snape. And cowardly Peter Pettigrew had certainly never stuck his neck out to help anyone but himself, so maybe Portia wasn't like her uncle, after all.

After everyone settled down and started eating breakfast, Harry told Portia, "Listen, don't let them get to you, all right? They're just dumb kids, but hopefully they'll grow out of it--especially after serving that detention." He grinned, recalling how unpleasant--and painful--tending the Blast-Ended Skrewts had been. "And if anyone gives you any more trouble, let us know, and we'll take care of them!"

"Thank you, Harry," Portia said, giving him a grateful smile that made her seem prettier and less mousy.

Ron said to Allegra, "Hey, you've got to show me how to cast that spell properly!"

"Ron!" Hermione cried. "You're a prefect! You've got to set an example! Besides, didn't you learn your lesson after Professor Blackmore gave you detention last year?"

"I'm not going to hex Bane, or even Malfoy," Ron protested. Then he grinned, "Fred and George, now that's another story..."

"RON!"

The Gryffindors broke out into laughter again, and Portia's face glowed with delight as she laughed with them, truly feeling like she belonged in Gryffindor for the very first time. No one seemed to notice the few students who didn't laugh, or that Seamus, although he was laughing, was pointedly ignoring his best friend, and that Dean was ignoring him in turn.

*** 

Dumbledore decreed the last Saturday of September a Hogsmeade day, as Lupin had requested. The students were a little puzzled, as the first Hogsmeade day of the school year was normally Halloween, but they weren't about to question their good luck. McGonagall and Hagrid accompanied the students as chaperones, but as the threat of the Death Eaters had ended, the students were allowed to roam the village freely, and were instructed only to stay out of trouble and meet back in front of The Three Broomsticks when it was time to leave, although McGonagall warned that anyone who abused their newfound freedom would have their Hogsmeade privileges revoked for the rest of the school year.

The students were surprised when Lupin, Snape, and Bleddri also accompanied them to Hogsmeade. Lupin had served as a chaperone once or twice, although he normally remained back at the school, and Snape had never accompanied the students to Hogsmeade for as long as anyone could remember. Lupin said cheerfully that he had a few errands he needed to run, while Snape just scowled and remained silent.

"I'll bet they're going on a date!" Pansy whispered to her friends. "Lupin's all dressed up!" Lupin was wearing a robe of plush, dark blue wool embroidered with gold and silver thread around the edges; it was not quite a formal dress robe, but fancier than his everyday robes. They had seen him wear it before, but not very often, usually only on special occasions like holidays or feast days. He was also wearing a brooch pinned at the throat of the high-collared robe; it was made of bronze and shaped like a wolf's head, with tiny glittering sapphire chips for eyes. Snape was dressed only in his usual plain black robes, but they suited his dark hair, pale skin, and regal bearing, and he and Lupin made quite a striking couple.

"How romantic," sighed Lavender.

"Do you think they'll go to Madam Puddifoot's?" Parvati wondered.

Draco happened to overhear and rolled his eyes in disgust. "Oh, right, like Snape would be caught dead there, holding hands and cuddling with Lupin in front of all the students!"

Lavender giggled. "Okay, it's a bit unlikely, but I think it would be cute!" Draco rolled his eyes again.

"No, they wouldn't go to someplace as public as Puddifoot's," Millicent said thoughtfully. "I'm thinking someplace less noticeable, like The Hog's Head, maybe."

"Eww," Parvati said, wrinkling her nose. "That's not at all romantic!"

"Perhaps The Three Broomsticks, then?" Pansy guessed. "Or maybe they'll sneak off to have a picnic lunch near the lake."

"Now that would be romantic!" Parvati said.

"Oh Parvati," Damien sang out, "I would sneak off to the lake with you anytime you asked! I can be quite the romantic, too, you know!"

"Oh, you're such a flirt, Damien!" Parvati giggled, making a dismissive gesture with one hand, but she looked pleased. 

"I'm not a flirt," he protested, "I'm a man who appreciates beauty--such as the vision of loveliness standing in front of me right now!" The girls all laughed. "C'mon, at least let me buy you a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks."

"Maybe," Parvati said coyly. "If you behave yourself."

Most of the students, particularly the girls, were too busy speculating about Snape's and Lupin's possible date to wonder why Bleddri had come along, but Colin Creevey did shyly ask the werewolf that very question.

"I've never been to Hogsmeade before," Bleddri said with a shrug. He was looking a little less scruffy than usual, in a clean though faded green robe instead of the shabby black overcoat he seemed to favor, and he had shaved off his short, scraggly growth of beard. (He didn't shave very often, but neither did he let his beard grow long enough to look neat and well-groomed, as if he were deliberately cultivating a seedy image.) "I thought I'd take a look around, perhaps have a drink at The Hog's Head." No one looked surprised to hear that, considering the werewolf's disreputable past. "And besides, I'm tired of being cooped up in the castle." He grinned, exposing his sharp teeth, causing Colin to swallow nervously despite the fact that he liked his teacher; Bleddri simply looked dangerous in a way that Lupin did not. "Wolves like to run free."

When they reached the village, the students ran off, dispersing to the usual popular spots: The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, Zonko's, and Madam Puddifoot's. Snape, Lupin, and Bleddri strolled along at a leisurely pace, in the general direction of The Hog's Head. Lupin and Bleddri chatted casually, while Snape scowled fiercely to discourage any students who might be interested in following them. They passed by Martin Parry, who had paused outside Scrivenshaft's, gazing at the quills displayed in the window.

"Hello, Martin," Lupin called out cheerfully. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Oh, hi, Professor," Martin said, feigning surprise. "Yes, it is."

"Why don't you come walk with us for a bit?" Lupin asked. "I'd like to talk to you about that extra-credit assignment you're working on." Snape shot him a glare, as if annoyed that a student was intruding on their free time together.

"Sure, Professor," Martin said, and fell into step alongside them. They headed towards The Hog's Head, but instead of entering the inn, turned down a deserted side street. 

"Come closer, Mr. Parry," Bleddri said. "I'll need to Apparate you with me over to London."

"Yes, sir," Martin said obediently, if a little nervously, and moved closer to Bleddri, who put an arm around him. A moment later, the four wizards vanished and the street was empty.

*** 

They reappeared in Diagon Alley. "We have a few errands to run before the wedding, if you don't mind," Lupin said.

"Of course not, sir," Martin said. "Actually, I haven't had a chance to buy a wedding present yet, so maybe..."

Lupin smiled. "We have a little extra time. I'm sure you'll be able to find something while we're here, but let's run our errands first."

Their first stop was at a wine shop. The wedding meal was potluck, Lupin explained, and he and Snape were contributing the beverages. They picked up some bottles of wine and champagne, and after a thoughtful glance at Martin, Snape added a bottle of nonalcoholic sparkling cider.

The next stop was the Zabinis' junk shop, where Lukas's gift, a tea service, was on hold; he had paid a little extra to have it repaired and gift-wrapped. "Hello, Master Bleddri, Professors," Marius Zabini said with a pleasant smile.

While Lukas picked up his purchase, Martin idly browsed the shelves, regarding musty books, broken wands, and chipped plates with only mild interest. Then his gaze fell on an antique pewter picture frame, wrought in an elaborate design of leaves and vines.

"It's very beautiful," Lupin said with a smile. "It's a bit tarnished, but I know a good polishing spell."

"Do you think they'd like it?" Martin asked.

"I'm sure your uncle would like anything you gave him," Lupin assured him. "The frame is lovely, and they could use it to display a wedding photo."

The price was listed as "1 Galleon, 10 Sickles," which seemed quite reasonable, especially as Martin didn't have a lot of money to spend anyway. His family wasn't poor, but they didn't believe in letting their son waste money on frivolous things like candy and magic tricks--especially after he had gone a little overboard during his first trip to Hogsmeade back in third year and come back with a stomachache. He had learned his lesson, but his parents still doled out only a small allowance for him to spend at Hogsmeade. They would give him extra money for special occasions--to buy birthday and Christmas presents, for example--but he could hardly tell them that he wanted to buy Uncle Brian a wedding gift when he wasn't supposed to be attending the wedding in the first place. 

So with a shrug, Martin handed over the money; the frame did look much nicer after Lupin cast the polishing spell on it, and Mr. Zabini offered to gift-wrap it for a couple more Sickles. With the wedding gift taken care of, they continued on their way, and stopped by Fortescue's to pick up Lukas's contribution: a large tub of ice cream. The werewolf shrugged, looking a little sheepish at Martin's questioning look. "I can't cook in my rooms at the school, and to be honest, I'm not very good at it anyway, so they told me to just bring the dessert."

"What about the wedding cake?" Martin asked.

"Oh, Molly's taking care of that, of course," Lupin replied.

Martin wondered who "Molly" was--another werewolf friend, perhaps? But when they reached the large, ramshackle house where the party was taking place, not far from Diagon Alley, he discovered to his shock that "Molly" was Molly Weasley, the wife of the Minister of Magic!

"Remus, Severus, Master Bleddri, how good to see you!" Molly exclaimed, giving Lupin a hug. She released Lupin, and smiled warmly at Snape, who scowled and took a hasty step backwards, just to be on the safe side, and at Lukas, who likewise took a step back, holding the tub of ice cream in front of him like a shield. Lupin chuckled, looking vastly amused, and his lover and his friend both glared at him.

"And this must be Martin," Molly said, her gaze falling upon the boy. "Brian has been talking about you all morning!"

"Er...you know my uncle, ma'am?" Martin asked.

"Of course," Molly replied matter-of-factly. "He's a friend of my husband, Arthur. Here, Master Bleddri, let me put that ice cream away until it's time for dessert, and Severus, you can put the drinks on this table, if you please. I hope you brought something nonalcoholic for the children...ah, I see you did! Wonderful!"

Martin gaped at her in shock as she bustled off. "Brian is friends with the Minister of Magic?!"

"They met before Arthur became Minister," Lupin explained. "They were sharing a room at St. Mungo's when Brian was recovering from the werewolf attack."

"Arthur helped us as much as he could, even back then," Lukas added. "He helped Brian find a job, and he and Dumbledore and Lupin got the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program going. And of course, he passed the equal rights bill when he became Minister."

"Martin!" Brian cried in delight, and the boy ran forward to embrace his uncle. Lupin and Lukas smiled indulgently, and Snape looked marginally less grumpy.

The house was one that several of the werewolves shared, a step up from their old apartment near Knockturn Alley, and they owned it outright instead of renting it--a gift from the Ministry in honor of their role in the final battle. Though in truth, it had not cost the Ministry anything, as it had been confiscated from the estate of one of the imprisoned Death Eaters. Still, Lukas was grateful that his pack had a place to live; no one would be left without shelter, even if they couldn't find work, although with the equal rights bill in place, many of them had found jobs and moved out on their own. Kyra and Brian, in fact, were moving into a nearby apartment after the wedding, and were quite excited about having their "own" place. Besides, Lukas thought with a smile, a pair of newlyweds really should have some privacy!

The house, though a little run-down and shabby, was clean and had been festively decorated with flowers and crepe-paper streamers. And the werewolves, though their robes might be faded and patched, were beaming with pride and affection, and the wedding was in its own way, as joyous an occasion as the much more elaborate wedding of Sirius and Branwen.

Takeshi Kimura, one of the few human guests other than the Weasleys and Snape, had volunteered to be the wedding photographer, and took pictures throughout the day of the wedding party and the guests. Martin proudly stood by his uncle's side as best man, Lukas walked the bride down the "aisle" (technically, the length of the living room), and Arthur conducted the ceremony. "I'm getting quite good at this," he said later to Lupin with a chuckle. "Perhaps I should take it up as a second career! I much prefer uniting two people in love to bickering with the bureaucrats at the Ministry."

The groom wore a new set of black dress robes (a gift from Arthur), and Kyra wore a dark green gown sewn by one of the female werewolves, who was a seamstress when she could find work. Her spiky black hair had been combed down neatly for the occasion, and she looked beautiful, although this was due not so much to her hair or the dress as it was to the look of radiant happiness on her face. Molly and Lupin wept as bride and groom exchanged vows and rings, while Snape repressed a sigh and tried not to roll his eyes; he really hoped that this would be the last wedding he would have to attend for a very long time. The werewolves cheered loudly, and Lukas declared, "Let the feast begin!"

Despite their limited budget, a veritable feast had indeed been laid out: homemade stews, meat pies, a roast chicken, a roasted joint of beef, and platters of sushi and teriyaki grilled meat from the Sakura (Takeshi's contribution).

"I should have brought a vegetable dish," Molly fretted as she looked over the buffet table.

"You had enough to do baking the cake," Lukas said reassuringly, looking much more relaxed and good-natured than normal. "Besides, we're wolves; we like meat. We're not really all that big on vegetables."

"But the children should eat a balanced meal," Molly protested. 

"There are a few carrots in the stew," Lukas said, unconcerned. "Besides, it's a special occasion." Not wanting to ruin the mood, he didn't bother to tell her that the few children in his pack were lucky to be having a meal at all, let alone a balanced one; there had been many times in the past when they had all gone hungry.

No one other than Molly seemed to mind the lack of vegetables, and everyone ate heartily. "This stew is great," Martin said between mouthfuls, "but it tastes...well...different. I wonder what's in it?"

A werewolf with long, grizzled hair happened to overhear him and grinned proudly. "It's rabbit," he said. "Caught it myself."

Martin took a closer look at the werewolf and saw that he was wearing a long coat that seemed to be made of a patchwork of obviously home-tanned hides from unidentifiable animals. He glanced down at his plate and suddenly felt a little queasy.

Lukas laughed and clapped Martin on the shoulder. "Oh, don't be so squeamish, Mr. Parry! Meat is meat; what difference does it make whether it comes from a cow or a rabbit?"

"I didn't have a pet cow when I was a little kid," Martin muttered.

The two werewolves laughed uproariously. "There aren't too many cows roaming around the woods," the grizzled werewolf pointed out.

"You live in the woods?" Martin asked curiously. "Like...er..."

"Like a wolf?" the werewolf finished, but he didn't look offended. "Well, I don't run around on four legs except during the full moon, if that's what you mean. I have a little hut in the woods; got tired of trying to scrape up a living in the city, especially after the Ministry passed that anti-werewolf legislation a few years back. But I stop by every now and then to see how the pack is doing, maybe bring them some of my catch. Wolves are good at hunting." He grinned, exposing sharp canine teeth, and there was a feral gleam in his eyes. "I especially enjoyed hunting the Death Eaters."

Martin shuddered a little. "Er...great stew," he said nervously, then slipped away to talk to Brian and Kyra. He relaxed as his uncle discussed more pleasant matters, like Kyra's new job and the new apartment they were moving into. But Martin didn't eat any more of the stew or any other dishes that contained ingredients that he couldn't readily identify.

The wine and champagne flowed freely, enhancing the partygoers' good mood. Lukas called for a toast, and paused while everyone made sure that their glasses were filled. Snape saw Martin's eyes dart towards the champagne, and said sternly, "Don't even think about it, Mr. Parry." Lupin chuckled and topped off Martin's glass with more apple cider.

"To Brian and Kyra," Lukas said, raising his glass. "Long and happy may your life together be!"

"To Brian and Kyra!" the crowd echoed.

"I'd like to make a toast of my own," Brian said, after everyone had sipped from their glasses. "A toast to my family: my lovely bride, my nephew--" He smiled lovingly at Kyra and Martin. "--and to all of you, my pack, who gave me a home and a family when I was alone and frightened, who always stood by me no matter how much I tested your patience."

"TO THE PACK!" the werewolves roared, raising their glasses.

After lunch, the bride and groom cut the lavishly decorated three-tiered cake, which looked and tasted as good as anything the best bakery in London could have offered. When the last bit of cake and ice cream had been devoured, the chairs and tables were pushed back against the walls of the living room, clearing an empty space for dancing. A few of the werewolves took out musical instruments--guitar, fiddle, flute, and hand-held drum--and began playing. 

Brian and Kyra took the floor alone for the traditional first dance between bride and groom, then the other guests joined in. Lukas claimed a dance with Kyra, and Brian good-naturedly handed his bride over and danced with Rachel. Molly and Arthur danced together, smiling at each other fondly. Arthur murmured something into his wife's ear about how this reminded him of their own wedding day, and Molly blushed like a new bride. Takeshi continued taking pictures, but set down his camera long enough to claim one dance with the bride. 

While the adults danced, Rachel's son Max and the other children present played with Max's toy wolf cub. At one point, the children chased the cub across the room, weaving in and out between the dancers, who just smiled indulgently at them. Snape frowned at the lack of discipline, and repressed the urge to hand out detention.

The musicians possessed varying degrees of talent, but they were able to play in tune and in time, and their enthusiasm made up for any lack of polish. They started off with slow songs, then moved into an up-tempo jig.

Lupin smiled as he watched Martin dance with his new aunt; they both were laughing and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. "Would you like to dance, Severus?" he asked.

"You've got to be kidding, Lupin," Snape said with a scowl, sipping at his glass of wine.

"Why would I be kidding, Severus?" Lupin asked with a straight face. 

"I have a reputation to uphold, Lupin," Snape replied.

"It's not as if you're among the cream of the pureblood elite," Lupin pointed out. "Why should you care what a bunch of unsavory werewolves think of you?"

"Must you always make a spectacle of us?" Snape sighed. 

"It's not as if we'd be the only ones," Lupin said, motioning towards the dance floor, and there were indeed two female werewolves dancing together, as well as two male werewolves. "Nobody here cares about that, Severus." He smiled mischievously. "And no one here will report back to your mother."

"Mr. Parry is here," Snape objected. 

"He isn't likely to report to your mother, either," Lupin said, winking at him. "And I'm sure he's too terrified of you to gossip about us to his classmates." 

Snape didn't look convinced. "Gryffindors tend to show an incredible lack of common sense and self-preservation."

"And he's not supposed to be here," Lupin added. "He won't gossip about today's party because he won't want word getting back to his parents about it."

"Great," Snape grumbled. "We're helping a student disobey his parents and break the rules."

The band began playing a slow song, much to Lupin's relief, because he didn't think that he could get his lover to dance a jig, although the mental image that thought conjured up was highly amusing. "Please, Sev?" Lupin coaxed. "Just one song?"

"Oh, very well," Snape sighed. "I can see that you'll nag me about it all day unless I give in." He drained his glass of wine in one gulp to fortify himself, then took Lupin's hand and they joined the crowd of dancers. Martin's eyes widened, and the Weasleys looked startled, but no one else seemed to pay them much heed, which made Snape feel slightly better. And Lupin did look beautiful, moving gracefully to the music although Snape moved a bit stiffly. 

Suddenly Snape was glad that he had not let Lupin come here alone; the thought of Lupin dancing with someone else this way filled him with jealousy. Snape pulled Lupin a little closer to him, and the werewolf smiled up at him tenderly, looking so happy and grateful that Snape felt a little ashamed of himself for giving Lupin such a hard time. 

Yes, the werewolf did enjoy embarrassing him, but he knew that it meant a lot to Lupin for them to be public about their relationship, because Lupin had worried in the past that Snape might be a little ashamed about it. Lupin was so giving and compassionate, and complained so seldom, that Snape tended to forget that he wasn't the only one who was a little insecure. Lupin rarely asked for anything, so Snape supposed that he shouldn't deny his lover a small thing like a dance if it made him happy.

Lupin savored the possessive look in his lover's eyes as Severus pulled him closer, and he smiled up at Severus gratefully. He knew that public displays of affection like these made the Potions Master uncomfortable, and it made him so happy that Severus was willing to indulge him nevertheless. The mischievous part of him enjoyed teasing Severus, but that was not the main reason why he did it. The wolf wanted everyone to see its claim upon its mate, as if to say, "He is mine and everyone else had better keep their hands off him!" but most of all, the lonely, insecure schoolboy Lupin had been--ashamed of his lycanthropy, terrified of losing the few friends he had, having to keep his affair with his lover secret--wanted to know that Severus loved him enough show it in public, loved him enough to risk humiliation and disgrace. 

Perhaps it was a little selfish of him, but Lupin was tired of hiding and feeling ashamed; he wanted the whole world to know that he loved Severus and that Severus loved him. He knew deep down inside that he didn't need to test his lover this way, but from time to time, the part of him that was still the frightened schoolboy liked to be reassured, and the fact that Severus would kiss him in front of the entire school or dance with him at a crowed party proved beyond a doubt how much he loved Lupin. 

"Happy now?" Snape whispered into his ear.

"Very," Lupin whispered back. He sighed contentedly and moved even closer to his lover, resting his head on Severus's shoulder.

Lukas gave the pair an amused smile; they remained completely oblivious to him and to everything else around them. For all Snape's bluster and sarcastic remarks, he was as devoted to and protective of his mate as any wolf. In some ways, for all that he was human, Snape was much more wolfish than Brian, who been a soft, pampered pureblood before being bitten and infected. Of course, Snape was a pureblood, too, but Slytherins tended to be predators by nature, and the Death Eaters even more so. Lukas sighed a little, wondering if he would ever find a mate for himself.

Snape danced with Lupin for not "just one song," but three, until the band started playing up-tempo music again; as much as he loved Lupin, there was a limit as to how much of a fool of himself he was willing to make. Lupin followed him off the dance floor without arguing, and seemed content to sit on the sidelines, snuggling up against Snape as they sipped wine and watched the remaining dancers. Snape flushed a little but didn't object, as there was no point in complaining about a snuggle after dancing with the werewolf in front of everyone.

When everyone seemed pleasantly tired and ready to call it quits, the musicians put away their instruments, and the dancers refreshed themselves with more wine, champagne, or cider, and Brian and Kyra opened their wedding presents. Most of the gifts were things they could use in their new apartment: pots and pans, Lukas's tea service, a set of china plates from the Weasleys, a handmade patchwork quilt from Rachel. Snape, ever practical, simply gave them a pouch of gold coins, and Lupin had carved a small statuette of two wolves nuzzling each other.

"It's delightful, Remus," Kyra said, and she and Brian both thanked Martin profusely for the picture frame, much to the boy's pleasure. Takeshi's gift was an empty photo album, which he promised to fill up with pictures after he got his film developed, and he also promised to send a few wedding pictures to Martin.

"It's getting late, Lupin," Snape finally said. "We should get back to Hogsmeade."

Martin sighed regretfully, then hugged his uncle and aunt and said goodbye. Brian hugged him back and promised to write to him. Then Martin joined his Professors, and they Apparated back to Hogsmeade.

"Thank you Professor Lupin, Professor Snape, Master Bleddri," Martin said. "For taking me to the wedding; I really appreciate it."

"It was Lupin's idea," Snape said with a scowl, "so you needn't thank me! And you are not to discuss...er...the day's events with anyone, including your housemates. Is that clear, Mr. Parry?" 

He gave Martin his most threatening glare, and the boy meekly said, "Yes, sir," and ran off to join the other students. Some of his classmates asked him where he had been all day, and he replied vaguely, "Oh...around. I had some errands to run."

"Sneaking off to meet a girl, maybe?" one of his friends teased, and Martin just smiled and remained silent. His friends smiled knowingly, and began speculating as to who Martin might be seeing.

"Not so dumb for a Gryffindor," Snape grudgingly conceded, feeling relieved that the boy was keeping his secret as promised. "Deliberately misleading them without saying a word--that's a tactic almost worthy of a Slytherin."

"High praise coming from you," Lupin laughed, then kissed Snape lightly on the mouth. "By the way, thanks for today. I really had a good time."

"Damn it, Lupin, not in public!"

Pansy smirked as she watched the by now familiar sight of Snape growling at an unperturbed Lupin who was smiling back at him affectionately. "I told you they were on a date!" she said to her friends smugly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's father dies, and Snape and his mother prepare for the funeral while coping with mixed feelings.

Harry, Ron, Draco, Aric, and Daphne met together in the Incantations workroom a couple of days before their project was due. Harry and Ron had researched the protective circle and runes, and practiced drawing them on the floor; Draco and Aric had researched and copied down their incantations, and Daphne had gathered the material components for the spell.

Harry looked over the items curiously; obviously the feathers (probably gathered from the Owlery) were to represent the element of air, and the lumps of charcoal to represent fire, and he recognized the vervain leaves and flowers because they had used them before in their previous Summoning project, and because vervain was a potent herb used in many potions they made in Snape's class as well. But he didn't recognize the white star-shaped blossoms, faintly tinged with pink, or another type of flower that had wide petals that were a brilliant shade of crimson and a bright yellow stamen heavy with pollen. "What are these?" he asked curiously. 

"These are wood anemones," Daphne said quietly, pointing to the white flowers, "also called windflowers."

"Aha!" Harry said with a smile. "Then it must be an element of air."

Daphne smiled back at him timidly. "Yes," she replied in her quiet voice. "In Greek legends, they were heralds of Anemos, the Wind, and their blossoms only opened when the wind blew."

"And these red flowers?" Harry asked. "I've never seen anything like them before."

"Don't you know anything, Potter?" Draco asked in a patronizing tone. While he was less obnoxious than he had been in the past, he did occasionally backslide into his old, arrogant ways. "They're Fireflowers."

"Never heard of them before," a puzzled Harry said.

"Oh, right!" Ron said, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "I've heard of them, but I've never seen one before; they're kind of rare and very expensive. They're magical flowers--they don't grow in the Muggle world, which is why you never heard of them, Harry." He tapped one of the red blossoms lightly with one finger, and a small cloud of pollen flew into the air, transforming into a shower of golden sparks. "Whoa, that's cool!" he exclaimed, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"It's even more beautiful at night," Daphne said, smiling shyly.

"Where did you get these?" Ron asked. "They must have cost a fortune!"

Draco, shook his head, still looking a little superior and patronizing. "Her family grows flowers for a living, you dolt! Haven't you ever heard of Greengrass Florists?"

"It's not like I go around buying a lot of flowers, Malfoy, in case you haven't noticed," Ron retorted irritably.

Daphne eyed Draco nervously. Harry had never paid much attention to her before since she was so quiet, even more so than Blaise Zabini, to the point where she was practically invisible. He had barely even noticed that she had spent most of sixth year absent from school. But now he had begun to notice that she was timid and skittish, almost jumpy, and didn't associate much with anyone, even her own housemates. She certainly didn't seem to have any close friends that he could see. "Yes, my family owns a flower shop," she said, in a voice just barely above a whisper. "They let me have a couple of Fireflowers for our project."

"Can we get on with this?" Aric asked impatiently; he plainly didn't care where the flowers had come from or what Daphne's parents did for a living.

They looked over the circle and runes, the spell components, and the incantations. "Everything seems to be in order," Draco said. "Looks like we're ready for our presentation on Friday."

"Wait," Harry said. "What about the gift to reward the elemental?"

Ron grinned and pulled a small bag stamped with the Honeydukes logo from his pocket. "Pepper Imps--I figure a smoke elemental ought to like a candy that makes you smoke at the mouth!"

Draco and Aric gazed at the bag of candy dubiously, then Draco shrugged. "Well, if it doesn't like the candy, I suppose your incantation should keep it under control, Dietrich."

"Shouldn't we give this a dry run first?" Aric asked, frowning a little. "I've never done this before, and smoke elementals are supposed to be hard to control."

"We're not allowed to actually summon anything without Professor Blackmore supervising us," Harry reminded him.

Remembering last year's detention, Ron muttered, "But if you want to scrub bedpans and toilets for the rest of the year, be my guest. Just leave us out of it."

"I only have enough ingredients for one spell, anyway," Daphne said apologetically.

"Is it really that hard to control a smoke elemental?" Harry asked. "The one Professor Lupin used in DADA class seemed really tame."

"Didn't you do your research, Potter?" Aric started to say, but Draco interrupted him.

"You're a genius, Potter!" Draco exclaimed, his face suddenly lighting up.

His four companions stared at him in shock. "Er...I am?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Are you feeling all right, Malfoy?" Ron asked, looking perplexed and concerned. "You're not feverish are you? I hear that can cause people to hallucinate sometimes."

"No, no, no!" Draco said impatiently. "Don't you guys get it? We won't summon just any elemental--we'll summon a specific one; one that's friendly!"

"I get it!" Harry exclaimed, getting caught up in Draco's enthusiasm. "You want to summon Soot!"

"Summon what?" Aric asked, still looking confused.

"Not what--who," Harry corrected. "Never mind; I'll explain later. But is it possible, Draco? I've never heard of calling on an elemental by name before."

"Of course it is," Draco said. "But I'll have to alter the summoning incantation slightly. Calling on a specific elemental is advanced stuff; that's why we haven't covered it in class yet. It's similar to the concept of demon-summoning, in that you have to know the name of the creature you're summoning."

"What?!" shrieked Ron, his face turning pale.

"Oh, relax, Weasley!" Draco said casually. "The mechanics are the same, but obviously summoning an elemental is a lot less dangerous than summoning a demon."

"That makes me feel so much better," Ron said sarcastically.

"Are you sure we can handle this?" Harry asked. "You did say it was advanced magic."

Draco waved his hand carelessly. "Come on, the savior of the wizarding world isn't scared of a little elemental, are you? Besides, I've studied this type of incantation before; I've just never performed it."

"Very reassuring," Ron muttered.

"I've done this type of summoning before at Durmstrang," Aric said suddenly. "Not a demon," he added with a sly grin, as Ron's eyes went wide with horror. "A...I guess you could call it sort of a minor imp." To Draco he said, "What we want is a Name Summoning incantation."

Draco began flipping through one of his Incantations textbooks, and his partners gathered around him, peering over his shoulder, beginning to look to look interested and a little excited, even Ron and Daphne.

*** 

On Friday, Blackmore's seventh-year class performed their Summonings presentations. Crabbe, Goyle, Hermione, and Neville had decided to summon a mud elemental, and everything went smoothly. It remained under their control the entire time, and vanished when they dismissed it, leaving behind only a few small droplets of mud on the floor.

"Very good!" Blackmore said. "The four of you worked well together, and showed excellent mastery of the spell!" She smiled mischievously at Crabbe and Goyle and added, "I'm glad to see that you're better at Summonings spells than your fathers."

The two Slytherin boys laughed, grinning proudly at each other. Their fathers had once attempted to summon a mud elemental as a prank, with disastrous results: they had lost control of it, and it had splattered mud all over the dungeons before Blackmore was able to dismiss it. The elder Crabbe and Goyle had been forced to scrub the dungeon walls and floors with toothbrushes for weeks, until every last speck of mud was gone. Hermione smiled, patting Crabbe and Goyle on their shoulders in a congratulatory manner, and Neville grinned and shook hands with his former enemies.

Parvati, Lavender, Pansy, and Millicent chose to summon an ice elemental, remembering how Blackmore had summoned one last winter to help with the Christmas decorations; they had been very impressed with the beautiful, lacy designs of frost that elemental had created by breathing on the windows. The elemental they summoned resembled a tiny dragon that appeared to be made of ice, and it flew over the classroom, raining down snowflakes on the students, who laughed and applauded. The four girls petted the elemental and told it how handsome and talented it was, and the little dragon preened, looking very proud and pleased. It accepted a small piece of clear quartz as a reward, then vanished. Blackmore complimented the girls, and awarded them full marks for their project.

Theodore's group did not fare as well with their project. It started off well enough, with Theodore drawing the protective circle and runes, and Blaise burning in a brazier the herbs and incense needed to summon a dust elemental. But Seamus and Dean, who were supposed to be performing the incantation together, had obviously not rehearsed it, and stumbled over the words, talking over each other when they were supposed to be taking turns reciting, or being slightly out of sync in the parts they were supposed to chant in unison. They lost control of the elemental, and a miniature whirlwind tore through the room, causing the students to shout and shriek in surprise and dismay as the wind whipped their hair and their robes around, and dust blew into their eyes.

Blackmore shouted out an incantation, and suddenly the wind and the elemental both vanished. "Ooh!" Lavender wailed. "Look at my hair, it's all tangled!" Meanwhile, Parvati rubbed her eyes, which were red and teary from having dust blown in them.

"Help, get me outa here!" Crabbe's muffled voice yelled from beneath his robes, which had blown up and backwards over his head. Goyle and Draco helped him get untangled.

Bane cawed indignantly; his feathers were all standing up on end, and he looked like a black feather duster, but none of the students dared laugh at him, especially with his mistress looking so irate. As the raven grumpily tried to smooth his feathers back down, Blackmore frowned disapprovingly at Dean and Seamus. "That was very sloppy work, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnigan. You are supposed to be working as a team, but it's clear that you did not cooperate or practice together. I cannot give you full marks for this project. I'm very disappointed in you, especially when you all worked so well together last year." The expression on her face changed from disapproving to a little puzzled, since the conflict seemed to be between the two Gryffindors, and not with their Slytherin partners. "Take your seats," she said curtly. "I don't ever want you to come to my class so ill-prepared again, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the boys mumbled sullenly, and headed back to their desks. Blaise and Theodore followed, the latter scowling furiously at the Gryffindor boys.

"Potter, Malfoy," Blackmore said, "your group is up." 

Ron and Harry inscribed the circle on the floor, and Daphne set up a small brazier in the middle of circle and burned the material components. The other students gasped in awe as the Fireflowers sent up sprays of golden sparks as they burned. Meanwhile, Draco chanted in Latin, "By the Element of Air, and the Element of Fire, by the Power of Wind and the Power of Flame, I Summon thee, creature of Smoke. I Summon thee--Soot!"

The students gasped again as the little smoke-dragon materialized in the center of the circle. Aric recited the incantation that would control the elemental and bind it to their will, but it scarcely seemed to be needed as the creature looked more friendly and curious than threatening. As soon as Aric finished the incantation, it flew out of the circle and landed on Daphne's shoulder, nuzzling her red hair curiously. The Slytherin girl laughed, the usual anxiety gone from her face, and petted the dragon, not seeming to mind that she was getting soot all over hands. Harry grinned and extended his arm, and Soot flew over and landed on it, as tamely as Hedwig would have. Ron offered it a Pepper Imp, and it gobbled the candy down greedily, then burped and blew a smoke ring out of his mouth. The students laughed, and the dragon blew out a whole string of smoke rings.

"You little showoff," Blackmore laughed, coming over to pat the elemental affectionately on the head; Bane gave it a jealous look. "Well done, all of you!" she said. "That was very clever, to think of summoning Soot specifically."

"It was Draco's idea," Harry admitted. Draco would probably be insufferably smug for the next week or so, but it was only fair to give credit where credit was due.

"Well done, Mr. Malfoy," Blackmore said warmly, and Draco smiled proudly. "I'll award extra points to your group for your cleverness, and for performing an advanced incantation." 

The five of them grinned at each other for a moment, until Aric remembered that he was supposed to hate them, and fixed a scowl on his face. Daphne's shyness also suddenly reasserted itself, and she averted her eyes, looking down at her feet. Blackmore just smiled, and awarded points to Slytherin and Gryffindor for the day's work, and let the students pet Soot and feed him Pepper Imps for the remainder of the period. When the bell rang, Draco dismissed the elemental, and it vanished in a puff of smoke.

"You all did well today--most of you, anyway," Blackmore said, with a significant glance towards Dean and Seamus. "So no homework this weekend. Class dismissed."

The students cheered and left the classroom, looking very happy--except for Dean, Seamus, and Theodore.

*** 

Theodore was still fuming about it later that night in the Slytherin common room. He was furious because he wanted to do well in all his classes and make his father proud of him, and the Gryffindor boys had ruined the project. "Those stupid Gryffindor gits!" he raged, as Blaise and Dylan tried to calm him down. "Blaise and I did everything right; it's not fair that our grades should have to suffer because of them!"

"Surely Blackmore won't penalize you because of their mistake," Dylan said soothingly.

"It's teamwork, remember?" Theodore said caustically. "We're supposed to be working together, so all the team members get the same grade."

"I'm sure it won't make that much of a difference in our overall grade," Blaise said in a placating tone.

Just then, Lupin walked in, carrying a large platter of chocolate-chip cookies, followed by Snape. "Hi, Professor!" Brad Doherty said eagerly, and he and Crabbe and Goyle jumped up to heat a cauldron of water in the fireplace for tea.

"Hello, Brad," Lupin said pleasantly as he and Snape took a seat on the couch next to Theodore. "Want a cookie?" he asked, holding the platter out to Theodore.

"No thanks," Theodore muttered sullenly.

"Oh, come on," Lupin coaxed, waving the platter under his nose. "It'll cheer you up. They're still warm, just out of the oven..."

Theodore smiled a little in spite of himself. "All right," he said, giving in. "Thank you, Remus."

Lupin passed the platter around to the other students who were gathering in the common room now that they realized Lupin and Snape were here. "So what's bothering you, Theo?" he asked sympathetically. 

"He's upset that those idiots Thomas and Finnigan ruined his Incantations presentation," Draco informed Lupin before Theodore could respond.

"Since when is your name 'Theo'?" Theodore asked Draco sarcastically.

"Oh yes," Lupin said, frowning a little. "Branwen told us about that at dinner."

"Yeah, Thomas and Finnigan botched the incantation," Theodore said, starting to get angry again. "Which means that Blaise and I also didn't get full marks since the assignment wasn't completed."

"It's not fair that they should be penalized because Dean and Seamus are morons," Pansy interjected indignantly.

"Let me get this straight," Snape said, looking a little confused. "The incantation failed because the Gryffindors were fighting with each other, not with you?"

"Yes, sir," Blaise said quietly. "They weren't actually fighting in class, but..." He and Theodore exchanged a glance. "They've barely spoken to each other the last few times we met to work on our project. They didn't practice reciting the incantation together like they were supposed to."

"That's odd," Lupin said, still frowning. "They've been best friends ever since I've known them."

"Allegra said that they got into a fight the day those first-years put a rat on Portia Pettigrew's plate," Blaise volunteered, although he didn't really like being reminded of the incident; his parents had not been pleased when they heard about it. They had sent a letter to Allegra scolding her, but they had also sent one to him, telling him to keep a closer watch on his sister--but how was he supposed to keep watch over her when she was in a different House? He sighed and continued, "Dean laughed, and Seamus got mad at him, saying it was wrong to bully a little girl. Apparently they haven't been speaking to each other since then."

"There's more to it than that," Pansy said with a sly smile. "Seamus has been pursuing Lavender, and Dean doesn't like that, because Lavender is friends with us. He's one of those people who think that Gryffindors shouldn't associate with Slytherins, I guess. He thinks that Seamus only stood up for Portia to impress Lavender."

"And it worked!" Millicent laughed. "She was very impressed."

"Dean called Seamus a 'Slytherin suck-up,'" Pansy added.

"Is that what this is all about?" Theodore asked, looking disgusted. "They're ruining my grades over some stupid fight about a girl?"

"No, Theo," Lupin said, looking very concerned. "This has nothing to do with romance, and everything to do with prejudice. I thought that the Gryffindors had overcome their bias towards Slytherin; apparently I was wrong."

"Well, most of them are okay," Pansy conceded. "Even Potter and Weasley haven't been as much trouble as usual, right, Draco?" Draco looked a little embarrassed and annoyed; he remained silent, unable to bring himself to defend his old rivals, although he couldn't truthfully contradict Pansy, either. Pansy continued, "And Zabini's sister and some of her friends have been coming to the Slytherin practice sessions."

"Yeah," Miriam Baddock chimed in. "Portia and Chloe and Emma. They're okay; we've kind of made friends with them."

"I like them," Slaine Kendrick said softly. "They're nice."

"Yes, most of the Gryffindor girls are all right," Pansy agreed. "It's mostly the boys who are causing the problems." She added in a superior tone, "Everyone knows that girls are more mature than boys."

The Slytherin girls nodded, and the boys looked offended. "Now wait a minute!" Draco protested.

Lupin chuckled. "I'm afraid she's right, Draco, at least judging by my own experience. Lily--Harry's mother--was a lot more mature than James and my other friends, even though we were all the same age."

"Your friends were a bunch of hotheaded idiots, Lupin," Snape said sourly. "Almost everyone in the school was more mature than they were."

"Some tea, sir?" Brad said, offering Snape a cup. "It's already got cream and sugar in it."

"Ah, yes, thank you, Doherty," Snape replied, sounding a little surprised; he still wasn't used to his students regarding him with anything but fear and loathing. Meanwhile, Lupin was accepting a cup from Goyle.

"Thank you, Gregory."

Blaise looked thoughtful. "My sister says most of the Gryffindors have been nice to her--it helped that Harry and Hermione personally welcomed her after she was Sorted into Gryffindor. But some of them have given her a hard time for being from a Slytherin family, and come to think of it, they're all boys: those two first-years who pulled the rat prank, Kenneth Sloper and Jarrett Jordan, and Kenneth's brother Jack and his friend Andrew Kirke. There are a few other students--like Dean--who haven't actually insulted her, but haven't been friendly either. They avoid talking to her and to Portia, sort of ignoring them like they don't exist."

Lupin sighed and sipped his tea. "I was really hoping that they'd progressed further than that."

Snape shrugged and said philosophically, "You can't change hundreds of years worth of traditions and prejudices in a few months, Lupin." He added dryly, "You might consider it progress that none of the Gryffindors have tried to feed any of the Slytherins to a werewolf."

"Grrr," Lupin said playfully, and the students laughed, even Theodore. The corners of Snape's mouth twitched slightly, threatening to turn into a smile before he forced them back down into a scowl.

"Speaking of maturity, Lupin, you might try to show a little yourself--you know, to set a good example for the students."

Lupin smiled, then his expression turned serious again. "Perhaps I should speak to Minerva about this--or talk to some of the Gryffindors myself."

"You won't make them change their minds just by talking to them, Professor," Millicent said reasonably. "There'll always be some people who will hate us."

"People can change," Lupin said earnestly. 

"But I think they have to do it on their own, Remus," Dylan said solemnly. "They won't change just because you tell them to. I know I didn't." He flushed with shame. "I didn't care when people told me that the Death Eaters were evil; I still wanted to be one because I wanted to be like my father. It wasn't until I came to Hogwarts that I started to change my mind. I made friends with Hermione, and then Mudbloods weren't just faceless victims to be killed, because one them was someone that I cared about. Even then, I was stubborn and stupid, and I didn't really turn away from the Death Eaters until they kidnapped me and forced the Mark on me." Dylan grimaced at the memory.

Lupin smiled, a little sadly, and put an arm around him. "I suppose you're right, Dylan. Let's just hope that the Gryffindors don't require such drastic measures to change."

"They are changing, though," Dylan said hopefully. "I mean, a year ago it would have been unthinkable for me to date Hermione, or for Pansy and Millicent to be friends with Lavender and Parvati."

"You're right," Lupin said, smiling more sincerely. "We have to be patient."

"I've met my cousin, Corbin Talbott," Dylan added. 

"Ah yes," Snape said, "I remember seeing him at the Sorting ceremony. I thought he'd become one of my Slytherins, but the Hat put him in Ravenclaw."

"At first he didn't want anything to do with me," Dylan said. "He told me that his family blamed my father for Elin Rosier's death."

Snape frowned. "You didn't say anything of this to me."

"I figured I had to work it out on my own, sir," Dylan replied. "Your giving him detention wouldn't make him like me any better, after all." 

Snape's lips curved into a smile, almost against his will. "True, Mr. Rosier," he admitted.

"But now we're getting to know each other a little bit," Dylan continued. "I've been meeting with Gabrielle Delacour, to converse in French with her when she's homesick. Corbin still makes it clear that he doesn't much like me, but he tolerates my presence because Gabby is his friend." Dylan grinned. "I think he has a little crush on her."

Snape sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I've noticed the boys mooning over Miss Delacour in class, and I'm sure it will only get worse as they get older and their teenage hormones kick in."

"It's not her fault, Severus," Lupin said. "It's her veela blood; she's not doing it on purpose."

"I didn't say that she was, Lupin," Snape said irritably. "But it's damned inconvenient, especially when I'm trying to get her male classmates to concentrate on the lesson long enough to prevent them from melting their cauldrons or blowing up the classroom."

Everyone laughed, and Lupin said, "Well, I'm happy for you, Dylan. I hope you and your cousin get to be friends." In the far corner of the room, Aric Dietrich rolled his eyes as he munched on a cookie, but no one noticed.

"And don't worry about your grade, Theodore," Snape told his son. "You still got partial credit for the assignment, and I'm sure that one project won't affect your grade for the entire term. If it does, I'll have a talk with Branwen."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, relaxing. Snape's opinion mattered more to him than the grade, anyway.

Lupin pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and changed the subject. "Anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Me!" several of the students shouted in unison, Crabbe, Goyle, and Brad among them. They gathered around the couch and Lupin began dealing cards out.

"Shall I deal you in, Severus?" Lupin asked.

Snape gave him a disdainful look, and pulled a book out of the pocket of his robe. "I think not, Lupin. You go ahead with your childish games; I have some reading to catch up on."

"What's the matter?" Lupin teased. "Are you afraid you'll lose face in front of your Slytherins if you're beaten by a Gryffindor werewolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lupin!" Snape snapped. "It's so laughably easy to beat you that it's no challenge at all."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Professor Snape," Lupin dared him.

Snape threw down his book. "Oh, very well!" he huffed. "What are the stakes?"

Lupin paused to think. "Five Galleons."

Snape looked disappointed, but replied, "Fine." 

The Slytherins watched eagerly as their two Professors began the game, and quietly made wagers of their own.

"Ha!" Snape said triumphantly, as the last card exploded in Lupin's face. "I win!"

"I concede defeat," Lupin said serenely.

"You take all the fun out of gloating," Snape complained, and Lupin smiled.

Later, in their quarters, Snape said, "All right, Lupin, cough up my five Galleons."

"Actually," Lupin said coyly, giving him a come-hither look, "I'm afraid I don't have five Galleons on me. Perhaps you would accept something else instead?" He unfastened his robe and let it fall to the floor, then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think you had this in mind all along," Snape said with a grin as he moved closer to Lupin.

"Of course," Lupin replied. "I could hardly wager a night of amazing sex in front of all those impressionable young students."

Snape snorted at the thought of trying to protect the innocence of a Slytherin, but he was grateful nonetheless that Lupin hadn't proposed that wager in front of the students. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "You didn't lose on purpose, did you?" he asked suspiciously.

Lupin pretended to be shocked. "A Gryffindor? Cheat? Why Severus, the very idea is outrageous!" He began buttoning up his shirt. "However, if you feel the wager was not made in good faith, we can always cancel it..."

"No you don't, Lupin!" Snape said, putting his arms around Lupin and pulling him close. "I won the bet, and I intend to collect on it!" He whispered into Lupin's ear, "I think I got the better end of the bargain, though--a night with you is worth far more than five Galleons."

"Don't worry," Lupin chuckled. "If I won, I was going to demand a night in bed with _you!"_

"Well, I'm certainly worth more than five Galleons!" Snape said indignantly.

"You are absolutely priceless, my love," Lupin laughed, and ended the debate by covering Snape's mouth with his own, and for once, Snape let Lupin have the last word.

*** 

Things at school went smoothly for the next few weeks, at least on the surface. The R.A. continued to quietly observe the Slytherins, and while there were no more pranks in Gryffindor House, a handful of students continued to snub Allegra and Portia, and occasionally muttered nasty remarks under their breath--out of earshot of Allegra, though, as her Rat-Face Hex had left a strong impression on her housemates.

"It figures that someone from a Slytherin family would be good at casting hexes," Dean muttered. Seamus ignored him, as they still weren't speaking to each other. He spent a lot of time hanging around Lavender, and when she wasn't available, with Harry and Ron or Neville.

"You guys are best friends--shouldn't you make up?" Hermione urged.

"Not until he apologizes to me," Seamus said stubbornly.

Meanwhile, Dean spent most of his free time with his girlfriend Susan and her friends, and when he was in the Gryffindor common room, he hung out with Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, the Gryffindor beaters.

Harry was worried, not just because two of his friends weren't speaking to each other, but also because of the effect it was having on the Quidditch team. One day in practice, Seamus missed scoring a goal when he refused to pass the Quaffle to Dean.

"That's it!" Harry shouted. "I've had it with you two! If you guys want to hate each other, be my guest, but keep your petty quarrels off the Quidditch Pitch! We might as well just hand the trophy over to Slytherin at this rate!"

"Sorry, Harry," the two boys mumbled, looking shamefaced.

"I mean it," Harry said sternly. "Screw up one more time, and I'm replacing you with the reserve players, and you can sit out our first match on the bench!"

The reserve players brightened when they heard that; they normally didn't get a chance to play in a real game unless one of the regular team members was injured. "Oh yes, please screw up," one of them muttered under his breath, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

Seamus and Dean both looked alarmed, and promised to leave their arguments off the Pitch. For the most part they succeeded; they passed the Quaffle to each other when necessary, but there was still an air of tension between them that worried Harry. The team just didn't feel like a team when two of the members weren't speaking to each other except when absolutely necessary. Even if they were cooperating on the Pitch, that sense of teamwork and unity was missing.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Ron said in an attempt to comfort him. "As long as you catch the Snitch, everything will be okay. It won't matter if Dean and Seamus miss a few goals."

"You're missing the point, Ron," Harry sighed, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.

*** 

The full moon came and went without incident: Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore spent the night together in Snape's quarters, and since it was a weekend, Lukas left Hogwarts to spend the full moon with his pack. He returned the next day, looking happier and more relaxed than he had at any time since beginning his teaching job.

One Friday, about three weeks after Professor Blackmore's class performed their Summonings, Snape was lecturing his seventh-year Advanced Potions class when Dumbledore entered the classroom, looking very grave.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Severus," the Headmaster said, "but this just arrived for you, and I thought I should give it to you right away." He held out an envelope that had a wide, flat black ribbon wrapped around it, and Snape's sallow face turned even paler than usual, and his hand trembled a little as he reached out to take the letter. 

Harry watched as Snape slowly removed the ribbon and broke the seal of red wax on the envelope. He noticed that the Slytherins, particularly Theodore and Draco, looked very concerned, except for Aric, who looked interested but not particularly worried. Harry leaned over and hissed, "Draco! What's wrong?"

Draco turned to him and said, "Don't you know anything, Potter?" But his snide tone of voice seemed only perfunctory; his gray eyes immediately flickered back to Snape, who was now reading the letter, and he said in a distracted tone, "The black ribbon means it's a death announcement."

Hermione nodded, looking equally concerned. "He's right, Harry; I read about it in The Book of Wizard Etiquette. And I only know of one person close to the Professor who was dying..."

"Then that means..." Harry's voice trailed off. Everyone in the school knew that Snape's father was dying, thanks to the Howler his mother had sent. Even though he had hated Snape at one time, and even now could not exactly say that he liked the Potions Master despite the fact that they had reached a truce of sorts, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for Snape. 

He had lost his own parents, of course, and even though they had died when he was a baby, sometimes he still felt a sense of emptiness and grief, not so much because he missed them--he had never really known them, after all, and had no memories of them except for their dying screams and the glimpse he had seen of them in Snape's pensieve--but because he would never have a chance to get to know them. 

He knew that Snape had been estranged from his family for many years, so he probably wasn't close to his father, but Harry didn't know if that made things easier or harder. Probably harder, Harry decided. There were so many things Harry wanted to ask his own father, like why he had played such cruel pranks on Snape when he was younger, and if he had ever felt remorse about it when he got older. Maybe there were questions Snape wanted to ask his father that would now go forever unanswered; maybe he regretted not mending things with his family sooner.

Snape just stood there, staring at the letter in his hand. His face was still white, and he seemed to be in shock; his black eyes looked dazed and unfocused.

When Snape still had not moved a few minutes later, Theodore rose to his feet and said hesitantly, "F-Father...?" All the students turned and stared at him in surprise, their attention momentarily diverted away from the Professor. Even though they knew that Snape had adopted Theodore, they had never heard him address Snape as "Father" before.

*** 

"F-Father...?" Theodore stammered, and Snape looked up to see his son staring at him, green eyes filled with concern. It was the first time Theodore had called him "Father" outside of Snape Manor, and under other circumstances, it might have made him happy. But Snape realized that he must look pretty bad for Theodore, who usually avoided attracting attention to himself, to be calling him "Father" in front of the entire class.

"Are...are you all right?" Theodore asked, and Snape attempted to pull himself together and fix his usual arrogant mask on his face. Theodore still looked worried, so he wasn't sure if he had entirely succeeded.

"I'm fine, Theodore," Snape said briskly, shoving the letter into his pocket. "Lord Severin has died, which is of course no surprise, considering how ill he was, although I didn't expect it to happen quite this soon."

"You should go see your mother, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. 

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape replied, trying for a sense of calm, but the closest he could manage was a feeling of numbness. "I'll head over to Snape Manor as soon as classes are over for the day."

"You will go now, Severus," Dumbledore said, his normally amiable voice suddenly full of steel. "You may take as much leave time as you need."

"But my classes--" Snape protested.

"It will not hurt your students to miss one day of class," Dumbledore said firmly. 

"But--" 

"They can make up the work when you come back," Dumbledore interrupted. "If it turns out that you will gone for more than a few days, then I'll arrange for a substitute, but we needn't worry about that now. Your mother needs you, Severus; go home. That's an order."

Hogwarts was "home," and Lupin's cottage was "home"; Snape Manor was not "home" to Snape, and it was the very last place he wanted to go right now. But still feeling numb and dazed, he couldn't seem to summon up enough energy to argue further with the meddling old man.

"Very well," he capitulated. He glanced at his students and saw that instead of looking happy that class would be canceled, for the most part they looked worried and sympathetic. That disturbed him a little, although not as much as it probably should have, due to that sense of numbness. It was the same feeling one sometimes got during a very bad cold, like being wrapped in cotton, having everything filtered through a thick haze of fog. One could carry on a rational conversation, but at the same time felt removed from it, as if it were happening to someone else. 

Snape shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind, and said in a reasonable approximation of his normal sour voice, "Read chapter ten of your textbook, and expect to be tested on it when I return." The students murmured acquiescence without their usual grumbling and resentful looks. "Theodore, you'll need to come with me, as you are now the Snape heir in truth." Which meant that Snape was now no longer the Snape heir, but Lord of the Snape estate; the thought was literally staggering, and he reached out with one hand to brace himself against his desk.

Theodore was suddenly at his side, although Snape hadn't seen him move. "Are you sure you're all right, Father?" he asked.

Snape let go of the desk and straightened up. "I'm fine," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He looked at his son's face, full of love and concern, and he suddenly felt just a little bit better, and profoundly grateful that he would not have to return to his ancestral home alone.

"I'll send Remus and Dylan to your office, Severus," Dumbledore told him. "Please convey my deepest sympathies to your mother, and don't hesitate to call me if there is anything I can do."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape replied. "I expect I should be able to resume classes on Monday."

"Don't worry about that, Severus," Dumbledore said in a gentle but chiding tone. "I told you, take as much time as you need."

Snape didn't bother to tell him that the prospect of spending even one day at Snape Manor was very unappealing, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do there, anyway. Comfort his mother, the Headmaster would no doubt say, but Snape doubted that he would be much good at consoling Lady Selima, even if she wanted to be consoled, which was rather doubtful. He supposed that he could help her with the funeral arrangements, although knowing his very efficient and proper mother, she probably already had everything under control. But he knew that arguing with the Headmaster would be useless--he was even more stubborn than Lupin when he had his mind set on something--so Snape just nodded and headed to his office with Theodore.

Lupin and Dylan joined them a few minutes later. "I'm so sorry, Severus," Lupin said, putting his arms around Snape and holding him tightly.

"I'm fine, Lupin, don't fuss," Snape said mildly, still not quite able to shake that feeling of detachment. "We've been expecting this, and it's not as if I was close to my father."

Lupin pulled back a little and said, "I know, but still...I'm sorry." He actually looked more distressed than Snape did, and there was a glimmer of tears in his blue eyes. Were the tears really for Severin, whom Lupin had barely met, or more for Snape himself? Mostly the latter, but probably both, Snape decided; Lupin was the sort who would believe all that rubbish about how "each man's death diminishes us". Severin Snape had not been a very well-liked man, and Snape wondered how his father would have reacted to seeing that a werewolf was one of the few people--possibly the only person--in the wizarding world to sincerely mourn his death. Snape almost laughed, but restrained himself, because he was afraid that if he started laughing, he might not be able to stop; he realized that the urge was closer to hysteria than humor. 

Snape took a deep breath and steadied himself, and Lupin reluctantly let go of him. Snape grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, tossed it into the fireplace, and said, "Snape Manor!"

*** 

Selima was sitting in the drawing room when they arrived, looking--not sad, exactly--but very weary. She was a beautiful woman who looked younger than her nearly sixty years, but today the lines on her face seemed more pronounced, and she looked tired and drained. Vorcher stood by her side, sobbing inconsolably, and she absent-mindedly reached out and patted him on the head. Snape's jaw dropped open and he stared at his mother incredulously. Selima had never mistreated the house-elf, but neither had he ever seen her show any affection towards it before.

Selima gave her son a puzzled frown. "Why are you staring at me like that, Severus?" she asked irritably. "Do I have something on my face?" Her hand automatically reached up to brush her cheek, as if to wipe off a stray bit of dirt or an unnoticed smudge.

Snape realized that his mother was not aware of what she had just done, and decided that it would probably be better not to point it out to her. "Ah, no, Mother," he said hastily. "Sorry, I must still be in a bit of shock. I thought the Healers had expected Father to last for a couple more months."

"A few months more at best, was what they told me last month," Selima replied. "He did seem to be doing better for awhile, with the new potion you were making for him. But...he has been fading fast in the past few weeks."

"You should have told me," Snape said, although there was nothing he could have done, and there was really nothing left for he and his father to say to each other. Severin would never apologize to Snape for abusing him as a child, and Snape certainly would never apologize for falling in love with Lupin.

"There was nothing you could have done," Selima said with a shrug, echoing Snape's thoughts. "I think...there was no reason for him to hold on any longer, now that the succession is assured. I think he was only clinging to life this long because he was afraid of what would happen to the Snape name and estate after he died. He would have preferred that you sire an heir, of course--" She gave Snape a brief glare, but seemed too tired to maintain it. "--but since you have made it clear that will never happen, young Theodore is an acceptable substitute. Severin was...well, perhaps 'at peace' would be an exaggeration, but he was satisfied that the Snape line would not die out."

"Poor Master," Vorcher sobbed. "Vorcher has served the Snape family since Master was a boy, and now Master is gone! Master was in such pain these last few years, but Master always said, 'I cannot die yet, Vorcher; what will become of the Snape estate when I am gone?' Master has been too weak to work in his workshop for months, too weak even to hold a book, so Vorcher would read to Master, from the old family histories. Master's favorite was Lord Sebastian's diaries--'Those were the days, when Slytherin was great,' Master used to say. And after the Final Battle, Master wanted to hear the news from the Daily Prophet--news about Master Severus." 

Vorcher gave Snape an accusing look, but Snape was more startled than offended, not so much by Vorcher's glare, but by the fact that Snape's father had been keeping tabs on him. That was the sort of thing Selima would do, but when Severin cut ties to someone, he pretended that they did not exist; it would have been beneath his dignity--or so Snape had thought--to deliberately seek out news of his wayward son in the Daily Prophet. "Master would say, 'What is my good-for-nothing son up to now, Vorcher?'" Vorcher continued tearfully.

"That's enough, Vorcher," Selima said, but not as sharply as she should have spoken to a house-elf servant who had just spoken disparagingly of a member of the family. It didn't matter that he was only quoting Severin, or that Selima probably agreed with him--one simply did not let an inferior "get above himself," but apparently Selima was too tired to take offense, which worried Snape a little.

"I'm sorry, Vorcher," Lupin said in a gentle voice, kneeling beside the house-elf. "This must be hard for you, having served Lord Severin for so long. But at least he lived long enough to see a new heir appointed, and now he is no longer in pain. You must be strong now, for the Mistress's sake; I am sure she will need your help in the days to come." Vorcher sniffled and hastily wiped his eyes on the faded tea cozy he wore as a tunic. "I assume there will be a funeral, or services of some sort?" Lupin asked Selima.

"Yes," Selima said, her black eyes becoming more alert and animated as she sat up straight. "There are arrangements to be made, announcements to be sent out...it will take extra effort and expense, but I think we can be ready by Sunday. That would be ideal, as most people will be off from school and work..."

"How convenient of Father to die on a weekend," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Severus!" Lupin snapped, glaring at him.

"I would say that you should show your father some respect in death," Selima said coldly, "but it seems pointless, since you never showed him any in life."

Snape bowed his head in a show of contriteness, letting his hair fall forward over his face to hide his smile. He felt strangely relieved to hear his mother sounding like her old self again.

Like Selima, Vorcher seemed invigorated now that he had a purpose once more. Looking determined, he declared, "Then Vorcher must get everything in order! The house must be cleaned, and enough food must be cooked to feed all the guests!"

"Guests?" Lupin asked.

"Of course many important people will come to see the Snape Lord laid to rest!" Vorcher said indignantly, then ran off, presumably to start cooking and cleaning.

"Everyone who is anyone will come," Selima assured Lupin. "It doesn't matter that Severin lost his Ministry position years ago and became a recluse; he is still the head of one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world."

"It's a pureblood thing," Snape told Lupin.

Selima smiled, a little bitterly. "If nothing else, they will come to gloat--the purebloods love watching each other's misfortunes. And no doubt they will come to get a look at the new heir--and my son's werewolf lover."

"Can Vorcher handle the housecleaning and all the food preparations by himself?" Lupin asked dubiously.

"The Headmaster told me to convey his sympathies, Mother," Snape said, "and to offer any help that might be needed."

Selima looked thoughtful. "Hmm...cooking and cleaning will keep Vorcher busy." She gave Lupin a shrewd look. "Which was your intention, was it not?" Lupin just smiled at her. "Most of the food can be prepared ahead of time today and tomorrow and kept fresh with a preservation spell, and I'll have some pastries delivered from the tea shop on Sunday. But he can't serve all the guests by himself; I was going to hire someone, but..."

"I'm sure that the Headmaster would be willing to loan us some of the Hogwarts elves," Snape said, making a mental note to request that Winky and Dobby not be included among them. He could just see his mother throwing a fit because one house-elf was drunk on butterbeer, and the other would probably affront the guests with his mere presence.

But Selima smiled slyly and asked, "Doesn't Lucius Malfoy's former house-elf work there now?"

"Uh, yes, Mother, but surely you wouldn't want--"

"A reminder of Lucius's comeuppance," Selima purred. "A reminder that the Malfoys have fallen, and the order of things has changed."

Lupin blinked, looking a little startled, but Snape was not surprised that his mother was using the funeral as an opportunity to do some political maneuvering--that was the Slytherin way, after all. "Very well, Mother. I will contact the Headmaster and take him up on his offer."

"Please thank him for me, Severus," Selima said. "Although I will of course send him a formal letter of thanks later."

"Yes, Mother."

"Is there anything we can do to help, Lady Selima?" Lupin asked.

"Hmm..." Selima pursed her lips thoughtfully, then glanced at Dylan and Theodore. "Do the boys have formal black dress robes?"

Snape had no idea, so he gave his sons a questioning look. Dylan shook his head. "My dress robes are gray."

"Mine are dark green," Theodore said.

"Our Hogwarts robes are black," Dylan added.

"That's not good enough for a funeral, at least for Theodore, as he is the new heir," Selima said. "It would be acceptable for Dylan to wear his school uniform since he isn't actually a member of the Snape family, but you had might as well take both of them shopping, Severus, and buy them black dress robes. You can charge it to the Snape account."

"I can pay for their clothes myself," Snape said stiffly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus!" Selima snapped. "You don't need to be so touchy; I wasn't trying to insinuate that you couldn't afford it! But you are the Snape Lord now, and you had might as well make use of the family account--that's what it's there for, after all."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, his face turning a little red; it seemed that being the Snape Lord didn't preclude being scolded by his mother! But she was right, he supposed; there was no reason not to use the family account to buy robes for the funeral. It was just that he had been cut off from his family for so long, and had been so determined to make his own way in the world and take nothing from them. Old habits were hard to break.

"It's too late to have the robes custom-made," Selima said, frowning. "You'll have to buy them off the rack and have them altered if necessary. Madam Malkin's will do a rush job for an extra fee."

"I'm sure we can find something suitable, Mother," Snape replied. Actually, getting out of the house was beginning to sound like a good idea. He didn't care to linger in Snape Manor at the best of times, let alone be stuck in the mansion with his father's corpse and a weepy house-elf. The boys were looking relieved as well.

"You can buy the werewolf some robes, too," Selima said, a little grudgingly. "Not that it will make your relationship any less scandalous, but he ought to at least look presentable..."

Lupin just smiled, not looking the least bit offended; the werewolf claimed that he wasn't a saint, but he certainly had the patience of one. "The black robes Sirius gave me for Christmas will do, don't you think, Severus?"

Those robes were expensive and high-quality, but still a step down from formal dress robes. "If we're going to scandalize the wizarding world, Lupin, you had might as well be properly dressed while we do it," Snape quipped, and Selima glared at him as Lupin tried to fight back a laugh. "Let us be on our way, then."

"You go ahead without me, Severus," Lupin said. "One of us ought to stay behind and help Lady Selima with the funeral arrangements."

Selima gave him a startled look. "Well, that really is the heir's job..."

Much to Snape's relief, Lupin said in a reasonable tone, "But I can't take the boys shopping, as I would not be able to charge anything to the Snape account. So it only makes sense for Severus to go, and me to stay and help."

"I can manage on my own--" Selima started to protest.

"There's the undertaker to be contacted, and the florist," Lupin said, counting off tasks on his fingers, "and the tea shop for the pastry order, and the Headmaster for the loan of the Hogwarts elves. Not to mention notices to be sent out to the Daily Prophet and, I presume, 'everyone who is anyone,' as you put it." Selima still hesitated, and Lupin added cheerfully, "No one has to know that a werewolf helped you unless you tell them."

"Oh, very well," Selima said huffily, as if she were doing him a favor instead of the other way around.

"If you're sure," Snape said hesitantly, feeling a little guilty about leaving Lupin behind.

But his lover just smiled at him cheerfully and said, "Go ahead, Severus; we'll be fine."

"Come along, then," Snape said to Theodore and Dylan, and headed back towards the fireplace.

"Just one moment, Severus!" Selima said sharply. "Shouldn't you go pay your last respects to your father first?"

"Isn't that what the funeral is for?" Snape complained.

"Severus Snape!" Selima cried in outrage.

"All right, all right, I'm going," Snape grumbled, heading upstairs to his father's room, as Lupin and the boys followed anxiously behind. "Bloody waste of time," he muttered under his breath. "It's not like he'll know if I'm there or not."

Lupin apparently saw through his bluster, because he laid a hand on Snape's arm and asked softly, "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Not really," he replied curtly. "But let's just get this over with." Since his mother was not present and his father was unable to voice any objections, Snape brought Lupin into the room with him for moral support. He stared down at his father's body, which looked even more thin and wasted than it had the last time Snape had seen him, and Severin's skin looked pale and waxy, making him seem more like a doll or a mannequin than something that had, up until an hour or two ago, been a living person. He stared down at the man he had hated for so many years, the man who had alternately tormented and neglected him, and felt...nothing, save for a feeling of emptiness. 

Lupin touched Snape's arm again, and Snape looked up and said gruffly, "Well, we've paid our respects; let's go."

"May you rest in peace," Lupin murmured to Severin's body before he turned to follow Snape out of the room.

"I didn't think that you had any fond feelings for my father, Lupin," Snape said peevishly, feeling uneasy and irritable, although he knew that he shouldn't be taking it out on Lupin. "He certainly didn't have any for you."

But Lupin's patience was still intact, it seemed. "I did not like him," Lupin replied quietly, "and I cannot forgive him for the way he hurt you when you were a child, but there is little point in hating a dead man." Snape flushed a little, wondering if that was directed towards his animosity for his long-dead rival, James Potter, which Snape could not quite seem to let go of. "And besides, it's bad luck to wish ill upon the dead," Lupin continued, leaving unsaid the fact that it was especially bad luck when the dead person was a wizard, who had the power to return as a ghost and haunt the living, although there was little chance that Severin would take that route--Lord Snape had been much too proud and strong-willed to settle for the half-life of a ghost. "And," Lupin added with a gentle smile, "in a roundabout way, Lord Severin's insistence upon having an heir led to you adopting Theodore, so I am grateful to him, if only for that."

Snape managed a small smile in return; trust Lupin to find the silver lining in a raincloud! "Yes," he said softly, placing a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "For that I am grateful."

"I will be a worthy heir, Father," Theodore told him solemnly.

"I know," Snape said, squeezing his shoulder. "Well then, Lupin, we'll be going. Are you sure you want to stay here with my mother?"

"I told you before, Severus, Lady Selima and I have reached a truce. I'll be fine; I'm more worried about you." He gave Snape a concerned look, and reached up to gently caress his cheek.

"I'm fine, Lupin," Snape said. It was not entirely true, but he was feeling much better than he had been a few minutes ago. Lupin hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and Snape felt even better, although he told Lupin in a dry voice, "Thank you, Lupin, but try not to do that at the funeral, or my mother will have a fit."

"I'll try to restrain myself," Lupin laughed, giving him one more peck on the cheek.

*** 

Lupin said goodbye to his lover and sons, then went looking for Lady Selima. He found her in the study, talking into a communication mirror.

"Very well, Lady Snape," the image of a wizard clad in green robes said. "We'll have your order delivered first thing Sunday morning. My deepest condolences for your loss." The wizard bowed, and the mirror went blank. 

"Isn't that Gareth Greengrass?" Lupin asked.

Selima looked up, startled. "Oh, Professor Lupin, I didn't hear you come in. Yes, I was arranging for Greengrass Florists to deliver some flowers to the funeral on Sunday. Do you know the Greengrasses?"

"Their daughter Daphne is one of my students," Lupin replied. "Well, one of Severus's students to be more precise, I suppose. She's a Slytherin."

"Oh?" Selima said, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps the rumors are untrue, then."

"What rumors?" Lupin asked.

"That their blood is not as pure as it should be," Selima replied. "Gareth's mother never married and would never say who the father of her baby was. It caused quite a scandal at the time, you know. Her parents would have disowned her, but she was their only child and there was no other heir, so they accepted a bastard grandchild rather than let the Greengrass name die out. But people whispered that perhaps the father was someone unsuitable, like a Mudblood or a half-blood."

"Or perhaps a Gryffindor," Lupin said sarcastically. "That would surely be scandalous!"

"Quite," Selima said, with a faint, ironic smile. "And I suppose you are about to tell me that I should not be indulging in malicious gossip. And you would be right, if only because there is too much work to be done right now."

"How may I help you, then?" Lupin asked politely.

"We need to get the announcements sent out as soon as possible," Selima said, taking out some blank stationary and envelopes from a desk drawer. She hesitated, then handed him a leather-bound notebook filled with the names and addresses of prominent wizarding families. "I'll need to write out the announcements personally, but you can address the envelopes, if you don't mind." Lupin pulled up a chair to the front of the desk, dipped a quill in ink, and got started. "Write neatly," Selima ordered sternly, in a tone that made her sound not unlike a schoolteacher, and Lupin smiled. 

He did his best to imitate Selima's elegant calligraphy, and held up an envelope for her inspection. "Will that do, Lady Selima?"

She blinked in surprise. "You don't have to copy my handwriting, Professor, just write neatly."

"I didn't want to give away the fact that a werewolf was aiding you," Lupin replied pleasantly.

Selima gave him an uncertain look, as if not sure whether he was mocking her or not. "Unless they can recognize your handwriting, people will probably assume that Severus, Theodore, or Vorcher helped me address the envelopes. And how do you know my handwriting so well, anyway?"

Lupin smiled. "It's quite distinctive, and I saw it clearly on all the letters you sent to Severus over the summer, not to mention your last invitation to tea."

"Oh," Selima said, still gazing at him suspiciously. "You would have made a talented forger, Professor; I suppose it's just as well that you're a noble Gryffindor."

Lupin laughed, and Selima gave him a small, dry smile in return, and they worked in silence for awhile. Selima set an enchanted quill to writing out the basic form letters: the notification of Severin's death, and the day, time, and place the funeral would be held (Sunday morning at 10:30 am on the estate grounds). Then she personalized each letter by filling in the name of the recipient and signing her name on the bottom. After they were both done, they began slipping the letters into the appropriate envelopes, sealing the envelopes with melted wax and stamping them with the Snape seal, and wrapping them with black ribbons. Lupin noticed that announcements were being sent to all the prominent pureblood families, as well as Ministry officials, the Weasleys among them, although he suspected that they would not have warranted an invitation if Arthur had not been appointed Minister of Magic. But there were a few omissions that he found puzzling.

"I don't see any letters for the Averys, Crabbes, Goyles, Pierces, or Zabinis," Lupin said.

"The first three are tainted by their connection to the Death Eaters," Selima sniffed, "and the last two are not of enough importance to warrant an invitation."

"You invited the Malfoys," Lupin pointed out.

"They're still wealthy enough that it would be wise not to snub them," Selima replied coolly. "But the others do not have enough wealth or influence left to be worth bothering with."

Lupin frowned disapprovingly. "Whatever you think of those families, their children are Severus's students. I'm sure they would like to pay their respects and show their support for--"

"Professor Lupin!" Selima shouted angrily. "Have you not meddled enough in the Snape family affairs?! You have everything you wanted--Severus remains your lover, and Theodore is the Snape heir! At least allow me to conduct my husband's funeral as I see fit!"

There was a slight edge of hysteria to her voice, unlike her usual tone of cold anger and contempt. Even if she had not loved Severin, they had lived together for forty years, and his death must be hard on her. If clinging to her rigid Slytherin rules of etiquette gave her comfort, then so be it, Lupin thought; he would not argue further. He and Dylan and Theo would be there to comfort Severus, along with Albus and Branwen--Selima had seen fit to issue a general invitation to the staff at Hogwarts, as well as personal invitations to the Headmaster and "Branwen, Lady Blackmore". No doubt Theodore would have liked his friends, especially Blaise and Damien, to be there, but as he barely knew Severin and would not really mourn him, Lupin thought his foster son would be all right.

"I apologize, Lady Selima," Lupin said quietly. "You are right; it is not my place to interfere."

Selima seemed surprised that he had given in so easily, but said nothing, and they returned to work. Everyone on Selima's list was a pureblood, with one notable exception: Harry Potter. Selima saw Lupin's small smile, although he tried to hide it, and said tartly, "Well, one can hardly snub the Savior of the Wizarding World." Lupin could almost hear the capital letters being projected by Selima's sarcastic voice. "Even if he is a half-blood."

That wasn't really true, but since Harry didn't want it becoming public knowledge that Voldemort had been his mother's real father, Lupin remained silent. When the letters were all sealed, Selima bound them together with a ribbon and gave them to the family owl, Socrates, to be delivered.

Lupin eyed the large stack of letters doubtfully and said, "Can he manage all those? Perhaps we should take some of them to the post office."

"He'll be fine," Selima said, unconcerned, and the owl seemed willing enough.

Lupin patted Socrates on the head and whispered, "I'll give you a treat when you get back." Selima gave him an annoyed look, and the owl hooted affectionately, then departed with the letters.

*** 

The students were having lunch in the Great Hall, speaking in hushed and subdued tones, when a great horned owl flew into the room. It dropped one letter in front of Harry on the Gryffindor table, then three letters at the staff table, then departed, looking rather harried. Harry nervously removed the black ribbon from the envelope and broke the seal, and Hermione and Ron leaned over his shoulders as he read the letter.

"It says here that Snape's dad's funeral is on Sunday," Harry said. "But surely Snape won't want me there; he hates me."

"Oh, he doesn't really hate you, Harry," Hermione said impatiently. 

"Well, he doesn't exactly like me, either."

"And besides," Hermione continued, "this is signed by Selima Snape, not the Professor."

"And why would Snape's mother want me to come?"

Listening to this from the Slytherin table, Draco leaned over and called out, "Because you're the savior of the wizarding world, you dolt! Lady Selima will be inviting all the most important people in the wizarding world to Lord Severin's funeral, and that includes you, as much as it galls me to admit it. I'm sure Weasley's family will be getting an invitation as well, since his dad is Minister now."

"I notice you didn't get one, Malfoy," Dean smirked.

Draco flushed and snapped, "Of course the invitation would be sent to my mother at Malfoy Manor--clearly Potter isn't the only one who needs a lesson in etiquette!" But the Gryffindor boy's words stung because he wasn't at all sure there would be an invitation for the Malfoys, considering that their family had been disgraced, and Lucius Malfoy and Severin Snape had not been friends even in the best of times.

"Knock it off, Dean," Harry said irritably, and his friend subsided, a sulky look on his face. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to attend this funeral; he had already seen enough death to last him a lifetime, and besides, he had never even met Snape's father. "I don't see how I can go," he said hopefully. "I mean, we're not allowed to leave the school without special permission."

But Dumbledore was tapping his goblet with his fork to get everyone's attention, then he rose to his feet and began to speak. "I am sure most of you have heard by now that Professor Snape's father passed away this morning," he announced. "Potions classes will be canceled for today--" There were a few grins and softly muttered expressions of appreciation, which quickly vanished in the face of disapproving looks from most of their classmates, and a sharp look of censure from the Headmaster. 

"Professor Snape requests that you study your Potions texts in the meantime, and prepare for a quiz upon his return." A few muffled groans, which also quickly died down. "I am sure that all of you will join me in offering our sympathy and support to Professor Snape and his family." Low murmurs from the students, mostly sympathetic, but a few uneasy and a few hostile. "Services for Lord Snape will be held on Sunday," Dumbledore continued. "I am sure that some of your families will be attending, and your parents will no doubt be contacting me shortly. Permission is granted for students to attend the funeral if they wish. Please contact your Head of House to make arrangements; Slytherins, please see myself or Professor Blackmore. For those who are not attending the funeral but wish to express their condolences, a sympathy card will be left in the Entrance Hall for the students to sign."

Dumbledore took his seat, and lunch resumed. "Do I have to go?" Harry asked plaintively.

"Of course you do," Hermione told him sternly. "Even if you and Professor Snape don't always get along, he still did his best to protect you from Voldemort. You have to go and show your support. And Professor Lupin could probably use your support as well; Dylan said that Lady Selima isn't too fond of him, and most of those snooty purebloods coming to the funeral will probably be looking down their noses at him."

"Then you guys will come with me, right?" Harry pleaded. "If I'm gonna do this, I'll need some support myself!"

"I suppose Mum will make me and Ginny go," Ron said reluctantly. "Though I don't know what for; I never even met Snape's father!"

"It doesn't matter whether we knew him or not. We're going for Professor Snape's and Professor Lupin's sakes," Ginny told him.

"I don't think I can go," Hermione said unhappily.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You heard Dumbledore, he said it's okay. Besides, you're the one who's so concerned about Snape!"

"I want to go," Hermione protested, "but I'm not invited."

"Do you need an invitation to attend a funeral?" Harry asked.

Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, but before he could say anything, Hermione answered, "If it's the funeral of the head of one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world, yes. It's in The Book of--"

"Wizard Etiquette, I know," Harry finished. "Will they turn you away if you show up uninvited?"

"Party crashing a funeral?" Ron asked, smiling a little. "Now that's weird!"

"They won't throw you out," Draco informed them. "It would cause too much of a commotion. But it's considered to be in bad taste to show up uninvited, and people will look at you like this--" Draco gave them his best arrogant, disdainful sneer. "--and whisper insults behind your back, like, 'Of course one can't expect a Mudblood to have any manners!'" Ron glared at him, and Draco said defensively, "Hey, I'm just explaining what will happen!"

"People like that will find an excuse to look down on those of us with Muggle blood no matter what we do," Harry said with a wry smile. "So who cares what they think? Please come, Hermione. I don't want to do this alone, and besides, you're the one who likes Snape best out of all of us."

"I really want to," Hermione said, looking torn. "I don't care what anyone says about me, but I don't want to upset the Professor by causing a scene at his father's funeral."

"Why don't you send a letter to Dylan?" Ginny suggested. "He's close to Snape, so he'll know whether the Professor would mind or not."

"Of course!" Hermione said, looking relieved. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You can borrow Hedwig," Harry offered.

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem," Harry replied; he was eager to have some moral support at this funeral.

*** 

Snape and the boys returned after a few hours; they had to wait while a few minor alterations were made to the robes, and he took Theodore and Dylan out to lunch to postpone having to return to the Manor, but finally he couldn't put it off any longer. Besides, he felt guilty about leaving Lupin alone with his mother for so long. So they returned with the robes, and a box of pastries for Lupin and Selima.

If Lupin had suffered in their absence, he didn't show any sign of it; they found him sitting in the drawing room feeding treats to Socrates as he petted the bird and crooned, "What a good boy you are."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Selima snapped. "He's an owl, not a lapdog! Don't spoil the bird."

"Everyone deserves a little praise for a job well done," Lupin said serenely.

"Ahem," Snape said, figuring that he'd better interrupt before things got out of hand. "We're back. I have the robes for the boys and Lupin, and I brought you these." He handed Selima the box of pastries. 

"It's just about time for tea, anyway," Selima said, looking a little mollified.

"I'll make some," Lupin volunteered, jumping to his feet. "Vorcher's pretty busy right now."

"And why don't you try on those robes and let me see if they're suitable?" Selima told the boys.

"Don't you trust me, Mother?" Snape asked dryly.

"So far I am not overly impressed by your sense of taste and judgment, Severus," Selima said, giving Lupin a pointed look. 

But in the end, she did nod approvingly at the robes, which were simply but stylishly cut. Dylan was more than happy to show his off; he looked very dashing and handsome in the black velvet robes, but then again, he probably would have looked stunning even in robes made of burlap, a fact not lost on Lady Selima. "You cut quite a dashing figure, Dylan," she said with a small, sardonic smile. "You take after your father."

"Thank you," he said happily, although he was aware that it was not meant entirely as a compliment.

She also gave Theodore an approving nod; he looked respectable, even handsome in his robes as well, although he couldn't help but look a little plain in comparison to his foster brother, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Perhaps Professor Lupin should try on his robes as well," Selima suggested. "You'll have to take them back if they need to be altered."

"I've been buying Lupin robes for the last four years," Snape said tartly. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what size he wears."

Lupin smiled and winked at Snape. "Yes, actually, he does have quite a discerning eye for clothing, Lady Selima."

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape muttered, flushing, as Lupin chuckled and Selima gave them both an exasperated look.

"And I assume that you have something suitable to wear, Severus?" Selima asked.

"Yes, Mother," Snape replied, trying for a patient tone. "I have a set of formal dress robes that I wore to the Yule Ball and Professor Blackmore's wedding."

"And Severus wears nothing but black," Lupin added cheerfully, "so that's not a problem. Oh, by the way, Dylan, Hedwig dropped this off while you were gone." 

"Hedwig?" Dylan asked, looking confused. "Why would Potter be writing to me?" Then he opened the envelope and read the letter inside. "Oh, I see, it's from Hermione; she must have borrowed his owl."

"Miss Granger?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows. "What does she want?"

"To express her sympathies to you, sir," Dylan replied. "She would like to come to the funeral and express them in person, but...ah...does not wish to give any offense as it seems she has not received an invitation..."

Selima gave Snape a questioning look, and he told her, "Miss Granger is one of my students. A Muggle-born and a Gryffindor; quite an annoying know-it-all little wench, but I must admit she is a talented Potions student." Dylan grinned and Snape glared at him. "And you'll be scrubbing bedpans for a week if you tell her I said that, Mr. Rosier!"

"She's very fond of Severus," Lupin added.

"That's not quite the way I'd put it, Lupin," Snape said with a scowl. "Although she is more sensible than her friends Potter and Weasley."

"She's my friend as well," Dylan chimed in. Theodore snorted, and Dylan grinned sheepishly. "Well, my girlfriend, actually."

Selima nearly dropped her teacup. "You? Evan Rosier's son, dating a Mudblood girl?"

Dylan frowned. "The polite term is Muggle-born," he said coldly. "And yes, I am. I will always love my father, but I do not agree with all of his beliefs--which should be obvious, since I fought against the Death Eaters, not for them."

"Must I invite a Muggle-born girl?" Selima sighed. "It was bad enough having to invite the Potter boy!"

"She is a close friend of the savior of the wizarding world," Lupin told her solemnly, although there was a mischievous little glint in his blue eyes. "She was hailed as a heroine in the Daily Prophet, and it would probably be politic to include her. She's also a close friend of the Minister of Magic's youngest son." 

"Invite her if you wish, then, Severus!" Selima said, sounding cross. "But you can write out the invitation yourself!"

Snape was about to say that it wasn't really necessary to invite Miss Granger, but then he saw the stubborn look in Lupin's eyes and silently groaned. "Very well," he said in a resigned voice.

*** 

As the students gathered together in the Entrance Hall after classes to sign the sympathy card, the great horned owl returned and dropped a black-ribboned letter into Hermione's hand. She opened it, and her face lit up. "I'm invited to the funeral! By Professor Snape, personally!"

"It's not really something to get excited about," Ron said, shaking his head in a combination of bewilderment and resignation. He didn't think he would ever really understand Hermione's inexplicable fondness for things like homework and Snape, but he was used to it by now.

"Can we go, Blaise?" Allegra asked eagerly.

"We're not invited," her brother told her gently.

"Oh," she said, looking crestfallen.

"It will probably be very boring, anyway," Blaise tried to console her. "Just a lot of people making polite small talk that they don't really mean, while secretly looking down on everyone else."

"I like Professor Snape," Allegra said, still looking disappointed. "I wanted to tell him that I'm sorry about his father."

"Here, sign the card for Professor Snape; I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Blaise said soothingly. "You can tell him in person when he gets back."

"Don't feel bad, Allegra," Damien said, patting her on the head. "My family's not invited, either. Not that I particularly want to go to a funeral; seems rather depressing. But some of us are chipping in to send a flower arrangement--want to go in with us?"

"Sure!" Allegra said, her expression brightening. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of Knuts. "Um...this is all I have. Mummy and Daddy cut off my allowance for this month to punish me for hexing Kenneth and Jarrett. I still say they deserved it, though!"

"Allegra!" Blaise scolded as Damien laughed.

"Every little bit helps," Damien said kindly, accepting the bronze coins. "And it's the thought that counts, anyway. We'll get something nice and make sure to put your name on the card."

"I think that's a wonderful idea!" Hermione exclaimed. "Can I contribute something, too? I don't have any money on me right now, but if you put me down for two Galleons, I'll give it to you at dinner."

"Two Galleons," Damien said with a grin. "Impressive; most people have been giving me Sickles."

A few other students began coming forward to contribute as well, including Seamus, who covertly glanced at Lavender while he did so. His effort paid off, as Lavender smiled and said, "I think that shows great maturity and compassion on your part, Seamus," then kissed him on the cheek; Seamus's face turned bright red. "Parvati and I will give our contribution to Pansy later," Lavender told Damien, and the two girls left the hall, giggling and casting coy glances behind them.

Seamus just stood there, grinning from ear to ear and staring off dreamily into space, until Harry finally took him by the arm and gently steered him out of the way of the students who were still waiting in line to sign the sympathy card.

"Buying funeral flowers to impress a girl?" Ron asked. "Doesn't that seem a little twisted to you?"

"Well, it's still a good deed," Hermione said, although a bit dubiously.

Harry glanced at Seamus to see if he was taking offense, but the other boy was still grinning, and was completely oblivious to everything around him.

*** 

The undertaker arrived to discuss the funeral arrangements with Selima, and also to set a preservation spell upon Severin's body until he could be laid to rest on Sunday.

"They're just going to leave him upstairs in the bedroom until then?" Dylan whispered incredulously to Theodore as they waited downstairs in the drawing room.

Theodore shrugged and said practically, "Well, what else would they do with him?"

"A normal person might be taken back to the funeral parlor," Snape said, "but the Lord of an estate remains on the estate that he ruled. It would be disrespectful to remove him from it--at least, that is the pureblood way of thinking."

The undertaker did dress Severin in his finest dress robes and lay him out on the bed with his hands crossed over his chest, so that he looked dignified and almost peaceful. No one, not even Selima, cared to linger in or near the room, though--except for Vorcher. He probably would have spent all his time weeping at his Master's side if his duties hadn't kept him too busy. 

Selima was also kept busy with the arrangements, and in fielding calls from friends and acquaintances wanting to express their condolences--although the sincerity of many of those condolences was doubtful at best. Selima was beginning to look a little frazzled, so Snape took some of those calls, but he quickly tired of being polite, and he shut off the communication mirror and draped a piece of black cloth over it.

"We're supposed to be in mourning," he said firmly when Selima would have protested. "This is not the time for idle chitchat. If any of your friends are ill-mannered enough to inquire about it later, tell them that we were too overcome with grief to talk to anyone."

Selima gave him a weary but sincere smile of amusement in response. "Well, I'm glad to see that you have not forgotten everything I taught you about etiquette and decorum, Severus."

Lupin was going to fix dinner since Vorcher was so busy, but the house-elf indignantly told him that he would never neglect to feed the family that he served. Lupin apologized, and gently told Vorcher to remember to eat something himself. "After all, you need to keep up your strength if you're to serve the Mistress and Master Severus properly."

From the guilty look on his face, Vorcher had probably been planning on skipping dinner for himself; in fact, Lupin suspected that he hadn't eaten all day. "Yes, Master Lupin," Vorcher said, sounding meek and chastised.

After dinner, Snape said, "Maybe it's time to get the boys back to school..."

"It's late, Severus," Selima said wearily. "They can sleep over. In fact, I had assumed you would all stay through the weekend, as the funeral is on Sunday."

Snape definitely did not want to stay, although he had suspected his mother would expect him to, and he was not sure how Theodore would handle sleeping in a pureblood mansion, considering his reaction to the Black house. "But--"

"We should stay and help Lady Selima with the funeral preparations," Lupin told him sternly. The accusing look in his eyes also silently conveyed the message, "And you can't leave your mother here all alone after your father has just died!"

Snape looked at Theodore, who didn't look too thrilled about the idea, either, but said, "It's all right, Prof--I mean, Father. I don't mind staying." Dylan nodded in agreement.

"Very well, then," Snape said reluctantly. "We didn't bring any extra clothes with us, though."

"I'll just pop into Hogwarts through the Floo and pick up a few things for ourselves and the boys," Lupin said, and he did. It took a little longer than he had planned, though, because when he entered the Slytherin dorm to get some spare clothing from Dylan's and Theo's rooms, he was surrounded by a mob of concerned Slytherin children.

"I told them that you were doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances," Lupin said to Snape when he got back. "They were all very worried about you; it's quite touching, really."

Snape just snorted, although secretly he was touched. "You're infecting my Slytherins with your Gryffindor sentimentality, Lupin," he complained, and Lupin just smiled.

"Have rooms made up for the boys, Vorcher," Selima ordered, as the house-elf appeared to clear the dishes from the dinner table. 

"One room," Snape hastily corrected, feeling that it would probably be best not to leave Theodore alone in a strange house that was likely to stir up unpleasant memories. "They can share."

Selima raised her eyebrows slightly, since there were more than enough rooms to go around, but all she said was, "One room, then."

"Put them near my room," Snape added.

"Put them in the Rose Room, then, Vorcher," Selima said, smiling slightly as she glanced at Dylan. "It seems appropriate, and it's in the same wing as your room, Severus."

Snape nodded, and Vorcher said, "Yes, Mistress." He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering towards Lupin.

"Professor Lupin will be sharing my room," Snape said coolly.

Vorcher frowned disapprovingly, but since Selima said nothing to contradict that statement, he merely bowed and said, "Yes, Master," and went off to get the rooms ready.

They lingered over dessert and wine while they waited (Dylan and Theo were permitted one glass each). Selima continued to discuss the funeral arrangements (the services to be held outside on the estate grounds, and the following reception inside the Manor in the ballroom), and to lecture Theodore on his duties as heir, which--he seemed relieved to find--mainly consisted of sitting with Snape and Selima to receive the condolences of the guests. "Professor Lupin and Dylan will have to sit with the guests, of course, as they are not family."

"Of course," Lupin said agreeably, and shot Snape a look that said not to argue. Snape nodded slightly and remained silent. If Lupin wasn't offended, then there was no reason to object, save that he would have preferred to have Lupin at his side, but that would cause no end of outrage and gossip among Selima's pureblood acquaintances. And Snape had to admit that his mother had been surprisingly reasonable regarding Lupin since they had struck their truce, so he supposed that he shouldn't antagonize her too much. 

Vorcher returned and announced that the rooms were ready. The boys were attempting, with limited success, to repress yawns by this point, so Snape interrupted his mother's lecture, saying, "It's late, Mother. Can we continue this tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course," Selima immediately replied, which was probably a sign that she was exhausted herself. "We should all get some rest."

So they said goodnight, and Snape led them upstairs. "Back in the Snape family's more prolific days," he explained, "all the children were housed in this wing, but the last few generations have produced but a single heir each, so it's been mostly empty for quite some time." He opened the door to a room midway down the hall; the walls were covered in rose-patterned wallpaper, and there were two beds covered with bedspreads that were a deep, dusty rose color. "It's a bit...er...frilly, as it actually belonged to twin sisters born several generations ago," Snape said apologetically. "But it's the only room in this wing that has two beds, and my mother sometimes has an odd sense of humor..."

"It's fine, sir," Dylan said with a grin. "Actually, I kind of like it." He held up his right hand and tilted it so that the rose-shaped crystal in his ring caught the light and seemed to glow deep red for a moment. "See, I match the room!"

"It's fine," Theodore said, lifting his hand to his mouth to hide a yawn. "I'm so tired that I don't care whether the room is red, pink, or polka-dotted!"

Lupin chuckled, and Snape smiled and said, "All right, then. The bathroom is right next door, and Lupin and I will be right down the hall if you need anything."

"Yes, sir," the boys chorused.

Lupin and Snape went to their room and got ready for bed. "Are you going to be all right, Severus?" Lupin asked, looking concerned as Snape regarded his childhood room morosely.

"I believe so," he sighed, then smiled faintly. "When I was a child, I never dreamed that one day there would be a werewolf sleeping in that bed with me!"

Lupin laughed, and they climbed into bed together. Snape was disinclined to make love, partly because he was too tired, and partly because the thought of his mother residing under the same roof put a damper on any lustful urges he might have had. So they simply held each other, and having Lupin's arms wrapped around him was very comforting. Despite that, and despite the fact that he was tired, Snape found that he could not fall asleep, kept awake by old memories. After about an hour, he finally gave up, and carefully disentangled himself from a sleeping Lupin, got out of bed, and threw a robe on over his nightshirt. He quietly slipped out of the room and went down the hall to check on Theodore, suspecting that his son would be having trouble sleeping as well.

But when he looked in on the boys, they both seemed to be sleeping soundly, their breathing slow and even, and the expressions on their faces calm. He breathed a small sigh of relief and started to leave, then hesitated. Theodore seemed to have kicked his blanket off in his sleep sometime during the night, and Snape thought he saw the boy's body twitch slightly--an unconscious shiver? 

It was a little chilly tonight, Snape observed, and pulled the covers up over Theodore's shoulders. Theodore's dark hair was falling into his eyes; Snape unthinkingly reached out and gently brushed it back from his face, and was struck by a rush of tenderness that paralyzed him for a moment with its suddenness and strength. He hesitated for another moment, then shrugged, telling himself that the boys were asleep and there were no other witnesses present, and bent down and planted a kiss on his son's forehead. Then he went over to Dylan's bed, and tucked him in and kissed him as well. "Sleep well," Snape whispered, then left the room and closed the door behind him. 

He turned around and bumped into a grinning Lupin, and Snape jumped and nearly let out a shriek that would have woken the entire house, only just managing to suppress it at the last moment by biting down hard on his lower lip.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Snape hissed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"A little jumpy, aren't we?" Lupin asked, still grinning. "I woke up to find you gone, and I figured you went to check on Dylan and Theo. Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Lupin," Snape growled, "as you bloody well know, since you were spying on me. And will you wipe that smirk off your face?!"

"You're such a softie, Severus Snape," Lupin whispered, kissing him on the cheek. As Snape started to splutter, Lupin disarmed him by kissing him again, on the mouth this time, and saying, "I love you so much, Severus."

Lupin's voice was quiet, but filled with intense passion and sincerity, and Snape's expression softened slightly. "I love you, too, Remus," he said. "Even if you do annoy the hell out of me sometimes." They kissed again, and suddenly the presence of Snape's mother no longer seemed so intimidating to him. They hurried back to their room, being careful to set a silence spell on it first, and made love, slowly and tenderly, then they both fell into a deep, contented slumber.

*** 

Snape had years of experience teaching and disciplining children, but had little experience raising them, or he might have been able to detect the signs of feigned sleep more easily. (Molly Weasley certainly would not have been fooled.) As soon as Snape left the Rose Room, two pairs of eyes--one green and one gray--slowly opened, and Theodore and Dylan grinned at each other. Their grins grew wider as they listened to the hushed and familiar sounds of their guardians arguing and making up, then they rolled over and went to sleep as Lupin's and Snape's footsteps faded away. They both slept soundly and peacefully, with no troubling dreams.

*** 

On Saturday, the Snape family continued to prepare for Lord Severin's funeral. For the most part, Snape was willing to let Selima do as she pleased, but he did put his foot down on one matter.

"Absolutely not!" he shouted.

Selima glared back at him, the look in her black eyes just as stubborn as her son's. "It is customary for the heir to give a speech at the Lord's funeral! It doesn't have to be a long one, Severus, just a few polite words about how your father will be missed and so on..."

"Father and I hated each other, and the entire wizarding world knows it!" he retorted. "I will not stand up there and utter mawkish tripe about how much I miss Father and what a wonderful man he was when it's all a complete lie!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus!" Selima snapped. "You didn't have any problem with lying to everyone about being a Death Eater, but now you have a sudden attack of conscience about having to utter a few harmless white lies at your father's funeral? What will people think if you refuse to speak at the funeral?"

Snape smiled sardonically. "As long as we're telling white lies, why don't you just tell everyone that I'm too grief-stricken to manage a speech?"

"Do you think this is a joke, Severus?!"

Lupin stepped between them and laid his hand on Snape's arm. "Why don't you just tell the truth, Severus?" he asked quietly, and both Snapes stared at him in surprise. "That the news of your father's illness brought you back home to your family, and it brought Theodore into your life as your son, and you are grateful for that. It is true, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Snape admitted reluctantly, although he was loathe to make even small admissions of sentimentality in public. But Theodore was smiling at him tenderly, with that look of awe that said he still found it hard to believe that he belonged to a family that loved him, and Snape was afraid that he would hurt Theodore's feelings if he rejected Lupin's proposal. "Very well," he sighed. "Although you do realize, Mother, that Father always despised this sort of display of sentiment."

"Too bad," Selima said bluntly, still sounding a little testy. "The rules of etiquette must be adhered to; your father understood that, even if he didn't always like it. Besides, he won't have to listen to it. All the pomp and ceremony of funerals are really for the living, not the dead."

"That's quite insightful, Lady Selima," Lupin said with a small smile. "We say that the purpose of a funeral is to show honor to the dead, but it's really more to comfort the living, isn't it?"

Selima stared at him incredulously, and Snape said dryly, "Actually, among the pureblood elite, its purpose is to show how influential and powerful your family is. That's the purpose of almost any pureblood gathering, be it a funeral or a wedding or a child's birthday party."

Lupin sighed, and Selima shook her head and muttered under her breath, "Gryffindors." Then she looked at her grandson and said in a normal voice, "You'll have to speak, too, Theodore."

"Me?" Theodore cried in dismay. "But I didn't even know Lord Severin! He only spoke to me that one time on the day of the adoption!"

"You don't have to come up with any personal anecdotes about Severin," Selima told him impatiently. "Just say something about how you will do your best to uphold the honor of the Snape family."

"Yes, Grandmother," he said obediently, if not very enthusiastically. Meanwhile, Dylan felt very grateful that, not being a Snape, he would not be obliged to make any speeches.

But there was one more matter that needed to be dealt with. "I suppose I should have your father's portrait completed," Selima said to Snape, a little reluctantly.

"You mean one of those talking portraits?" Dylan asked curiously. "Like the one of Mrs. Black at Sirius's house, or the one of my great-grandfather at the Rosier mansion? How are they made, anyway?"

"They are painted while the subject is still living," Selima explained, "by an artist who specializes in Portraiture Magic. The artist infuses the painting with the subject's personality; part of the process requires mixing some of the subject's blood into the paint." Theodore shuddered, while Dylan looked both fascinated and a little repulsed.

"It's a type of Blood Magic, then," he said.

"Well, yes, technically," Selima agreed, "although most people don't like to think of it as such; they associate Blood Magic with the Dark Arts, but this spell is considered benign."

"Because people crave a piece of immortality," Snape said, with a small, bitter smile. "Even if it is only an illusion."

Selima led them to what seemed to be a storeroom; it was full of old furniture, most of it ugly and ostentatious. She pulled a sheet off an object tucked away in a corner, revealing a portrait of Severin, his face set in a stern, severe expression. It looked remarkably lifelike, except for the eyes, which had not yet been painted in, leaving two blank holes staring out of an otherwise complete face, giving the portrait a rather odd and eerie look.

"The portrait will not come to life until the eyes are painted in," Selima explained.

"Do you really want to have it completed?" Snape asked sourly. Personally, the thought of being harangued by his father even after he was dead held little appeal for Snape. 

"It's pureblood tradition, Severus," Selima scolded. "Besides, it's my duty as Severin's wife to see that the portrait is completed." But there was a hint of reluctance in her voice, as if she secretly found the idea just as distasteful as Snape did.

"No one could possibly find fault with your loyalty to Father," Snape said in a silky voice, which caused Selima to stare at him suspiciously. "But I do believe that your marriage vows said 'honor and obey till death do us part'. How long after Father is dead must you continue to obey him?"

"You have been spending too much time around Morrigan De Lacy," Selima said dryly. "You're starting to think like a lawyer."

"Or like a merchant," Snape pointed out, "very carefully adhering to the exact letter of the contract."

For just a moment, Selima almost smiled, then she said in a cool voice, "You show no respect to your father, Severus." But there was a slightly calculating look in her eyes, the same look her Bashir relatives wore when bargaining with a client or negotiating with a Ministry official, the look that seemed to say, "Make me a counteroffer."

"How respectful would it be to Father to bring his portrait to life and then lock it up in the attic?" Snape obligingly countered. "Because you know that's where it's going to end up, sooner or later. Probably sooner."

"You do have a point," Selima conceded, although she didn't seem to be quite ready to give in yet. "But people will talk if we don't have Severin's portrait displayed."

"Perhaps," Lupin suggested gently, "you could think of it as an indefinite postponement, rather than an outright refusal to complete the portrait."

"True," Selima said thoughtfully. "It can be completed at any point in the future; we don't have to do it right now."

"And," Lupin continued, "I have heard that some people find it difficult to deal with the portraits so soon after a loved one's death. The sight of their deceased loved ones, seemingly brought back to life, brings joy to some, but greater pain to others, only serving to accentuate their loss."

"Yes, this is a delicate time for the family," Selima agreed. "Perhaps such a major decision should be postponed until after the mourning period."

"And if anyone should ask--though that would be rather rude, don't you think?--you could say that the portrait is being displayed in a more private part of the house," Lupin suggested. "After all, none of the other Snape portraits are hanging in the halls or the drawing room or other parts of the house that guests might see. It's not as if its absence is really that conspicuous."

"And Father did value his privacy," Snape added virtuously.

"Such a dutiful son you are, Severus," Selima said sarcastically, but she looked a little amused. "Very well, then. We will leave the portrait be for now."

She went down to the kitchen to check on Vorcher's progress with the food preparations, and Snape closed the door on the storeroom and his father's portrait with a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Lupin and said, "You were wasted in Gryffindor; you are as conniving as any Slytherin."

The boys grinned, and Lupin laughed and said, "Well, I did eventually end up in the dungeon!"

"We all think of you as an honorary member of Slytherin, Remus," Dylan told him. "It's probably the first time since the days of the Founders that a Gryffindor was permitted to enter the Slytherin common room!"

"My old friend James would be scandalized to hear it," Lupin said, with a mischievous smile that made him look like a teenager again, and Snape felt a malicious little stab of pleasure at the thought of Potter's outrage; it was almost a pity that he wasn't alive to see it--to see Snape claim Lupin as his lover, to see Lupin willingly ally himself with the Slytherins, even live among them. It was a bit petty of him, Snape supposed, but after all, it was the Gryffindors who were supposed to be the noble ones, not the Slytherins.

Lupin whispered into Snape's ear, "You're thinking something wicked, my love; I can tell by the look on your face." 

"Of course I am," Snape purred, "I'm a Slytherin; we're always thinking wicked thoughts."

"That's part of what I love about you," Lupin said, kissing him on the cheek.

Their bantering was heading in the direction of the bedroom, as it usually did, and Snape regretfully decided that he'd better put a stop to it, especially since the boys were beginning to look a little embarrassed, and that would be nothing compared to Selima's reaction if she walked in on them right now.

"Control yourself, Lupin," Snape said. "My mother will be back any minute."

Lupin chuckled. "It's almost like being a teenager again! Stealing kisses, hiding from your parents..."

"I assure you, Lupin," Snape said in a wry voice, "that my mother would never have permitted me to keep a werewolf in my bedroom when I was a teenager."

The boys blushed and laughed, and Lupin smiled and said, "Well, we'd better go find Lady Selima and see if she needs some help before she comes looking for us."

They headed downstairs, and Snape said to Lupin softly, "Thank you, Remus."

"For what, Severus?"

"For being here," Snape replied. "It would have been a lot harder without you." That was putting it mildly; he had dreaded staying in his childhood home with its painful and bitter memories, and dealing with his father's death was even worse--he still didn't know exactly how he felt about it; his emotions were all muddled, and he was a little afraid to examine them too closely. But Remus's presence made it all much easier to bear, with his humor and patience and, of course, his love. He also seemed to have become adept at handling Lady Selima, which puzzled Snape, because he still wasn't sure how Lupin did it, but he was grateful for it, because Snape and his mother would probably be at each other's throats if not for Lupin's intervention.

As usual, Lupin seemed to pick up on everything Snape had left unsaid; there was a look of understanding in his pale blue eyes. "You're welcome, Severus," he said quietly.

*** 

In the kitchen, Selima nodded approvingly, and Vorcher looked gratified. The house-elf offered her a cup of tea, and she accepted it and sat down at the kitchen table, figuring that she could take a short break from the funeral preparations, as everything seemed to be progressing smoothly. That was partly Lupin's doing, and Selima sighed a little. The werewolf had a clever mind, and despite his Gryffindor idealism, could negotiate like the canniest of merchants, and be as cunning as a Slytherin--and all the while disguising it with his cheerful, innocent smile.

He was certainly good at manipulating Severus into doing what he wanted, and since what Lupin wanted and what Selima wanted happened to coincide this time, she was grateful. She sighed again; it was really a pity that Lupin was male and a werewolf. If he'd been female, he would have been a worthy mate for Severus. Then again, perhaps Severus would not have been interested in Lupin if he had been female and not a lycanthrope; Severus seemed to take a distinct pleasure in scandalizing his family. It was probably the very things that made Lupin an unsuitable lover for a pureblood heir that made him most attractive to Severus. It was ridiculous for a man who was nearly forty to still be behaving like a rebellious teenager, but it didn't seem like Severus was going to grow out of it.

After all these years, Selima's son was still a mystery to her, and she wasn't sure if she would ever understand him. He was a bundle of contradictions: a pureblood heir who had repudiated his name and fortune; a Slytherin who lived with a Gryffindor lover; a Dark Wizard turned hero; a man who, Selima knew from experience, could be selfish, bitter, and petty, and yet had risked his life to spy on the Death Eaters. Such a noble, self-sacrificing act was foreign to the Slytherin mindset, and she still didn't know why he had done it, unless it was for Lupin's sake. The werewolf would likely have perished if Voldemort had won the war, slain either for his tainted blood or for his loyalty to Dumbledore.

_My son is either a noble fool or a lovesick idiot,_ Selima thought to herself in disgust. _Possibly both._

"Is there anything we can do to help, Lady Selima?" said a cheerful voice that was becoming all too familiar to her.

Selima sighed one last time and pushed aside her teacup. "Yes, Professor Lupin," she said in a resigned tone. "We need to prepare the ballroom for tomorrow's reception."

*** 

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts in the castle courtyard, Hermione was giving Harry a lesson in wizard etiquette. "Remember to address Snape's mother as Lady Selima or Lady Snape, not Mrs. Snape."

"Why?" Harry asked, looking puzzled. "Are they nobility?"

"Hundreds of years ago, the oldest and most powerful of the pureblood families were considered nobility, and called themselves Lords and Ladies," Hermione lectured. "These days, that's considered rather old-fashioned, and most people call themselves 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.' but a few of the more...er...traditional families--"

"That means the snooty ones," Ron interrupted.

"--still cling to the old, formal terms of address," Hermione continued. 

Hermione had somehow managed to rope Draco into helping with her etiquette lesson. He had been lounging on a stone bench, looking bored throughout most of the lecture, but now he spoke up, "The Snapes are very formal and very old-fashioned, according to my mother. And Lady Selima is said to be a real stickler for propriety; she'll probably consider it an insult if you call her 'Mrs. Snape'."

"Fine," Harry sighed. "I'll remember to call her 'Lady Selima'. But please tell me that we don't have to start calling Snape 'Lord Severus'!"

Hermione giggled. "Well, technically he is Lord Snape now that his father is dead, but I assume that we'll still call him 'Professor' at school."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he docked points from the Gryffindors for not calling him 'Lord,'" Ron predicted darkly, and Hermione laughed.

"Oh, don't be silly, Ron! I don't really think Snape is that comfortable with the title himself. Dylan says he only went back home after his mother sent him the Howler because Professor Lupin and the Headmaster practically forced him to. And Professor Blackmore is the head of the Blackmore family, but she doesn't make anyone call her 'Lady Blackmore'."

"Should we be calling the portrait of Sirius's mother 'Lady Black,' then?" Harry wondered. 

"Hmm," Hermione said thoughtfully. "The Blacks are an old and wealthy pureblood family, so maybe, though Sirius never refers to her that way. Then again, Sirius usually calls her, 'you old hag'..."

"His parents used to call themselves Lord and Lady Black," Draco said, then grinned. "Sirius probably has everyone call her 'Mrs. Black' just to piss her off."

"What about you, Malfoy? Should we be calling you 'Lord Draco'?" Harry joked.

"Fat chance!" Ron snorted.

Harry had expected Draco to say something like, "Of course you should call me 'Lord,' seeing as how I'm obviously superior to you gits," but the Slytherin boy looked uncomfortable, then replied, "Sometimes people call my mother 'Lady Narcissa,' but my father never used the title 'Lord' much. He didn't want people at the Ministry thinking of him as too old-fashioned, and...well...the Dark Lord didn't like his Death Eaters calling anyone but himself 'Lord'. If they referred to themselves as Lords, then it would sound like they considered themselves his equals, and..."

Draco's voice trailed off, but Harry knew what he meant; Lord Voldemort had not wanted equal partners, only servants and slaves, and he wondered how the proud, arrogant Death Eaters had come to pledge themselves to such a man. Perhaps Voldemort had tricked them, and they had not realized at first that they would never be anything more than favored servants.

Harry cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "So what exactly am I supposed to be doing at this funeral?"

Looking grateful, Draco replied, "There's not really much to it. First you pay your respects to Lord Severin, then--"

"Could you be a little more specific, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed, allowing a slightly smug and superior look to appear on his face. "Just stand in front of the body, bow your head a little, and look solemn; you don't have to do anything else. Then go over to the Snape family and tell them that you're sorry for their loss. Then you can go and sit down while the rest of the guests pay their respects, and then they'll start the funeral. There will probably be a lot of people who detested Lord Severin giving speeches about what a great guy he was and how much they respected him. The Professor will probably give a speech too, providing his mother can make him do it." 

Hermione giggled, and Harry and Ron smiled a little; none of them could picture Snape making a polite and completely untruthful speech about how much he lamented his father's loss. Draco smiled too, then continued, "Then afterwards, they'll serve food and drink, and everyone will mingle, supposedly to reminisce about the late Lord Snape and comfort his family, but actually to gossip, perhaps to gloat a little, depending on how much they dislike or envy the Snapes, and to do the usual social posturing and maneuvering. If your father's there, Weasley, I'm sure there will be a lot of people sucking up to him and trying to wring a few favors out of him."

"At a funeral?" Ron asked, looking disgusted.

Draco shrugged. "It's not often that you get so many important people together in one place; why waste the opportunity?"

Harry grimaced. "It sounds perfectly dreadful and boring."

Draco just shrugged again. "Are things really so different in the Muggle world?"

Harry thought it over. The Dursleys certainly cared a lot about impressing the people they considered important; they probably would use a funeral as an opportunity to suck up to those people and maybe make a few business connections. "No," he admitted. "Not really. Muggles--some of them, at least--care just as much about power and money as wizards do."

"It's just for one day, Harry," Hermione said in a comforting tone. "And I'm sure Professor Snape will appreciate it."

Ron, Harry, and Draco all simultaneously snorted in derision. "Yeah, right!" Harry said. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad; Hermione, Ron, and Ginny would be there to keep him company, and so would Sirius, who had also been invited to the funeral, much to Harry's surprise. The head of the Black family was either too important to be snubbed, or perhaps it was Lupin's doing, but either way Harry was grateful to have the chance to see his godfather, even if it was on an unpleasant occasion. They'd go and pay their respects, then try to stay out of Snape's way for the rest of the day, which, Harry figured, Snape would probably appreciate much more than their sympathy.

*** 

On Sunday morning, all the members of the Snape household got up early to get ready for the funeral. Dumbledore sent over a small army of house-elves through the Floo, and half of them helped Vorcher set things up in the ballroom, and the other half helped Snape, Lupin, and the boys set up chairs on the estate grounds for the guests. Meanwhile, the undertaker was setting up a dais upon which Lord Severin's body would be laid, as well as a podium for the speakers.

A carriage with the words "Greengrass Florists" emblazoned on the side pulled up, and two wizards clad in green robes (with the "Greengrass Florists" logo embroidered on the breast pockets) climbed out; one was a middle-aged man with red hair turning to gray, and the other was...

"Daphne!" Dylan exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

She flushed a little, smiled nervously, and said, "We're delivering the flowers for the funeral. It's a big order, and Mother has to run the shop, so the Headmaster gave me permission to help Father with the delivery."

"Well, thank you very much for coming," Lupin said with a smile, as Selima shot him an annoyed look for speaking as if he were a member of the Snape family. "We appreciate it very much." Daphne smiled shyly, then began helping her father unload the flowers from the carriage. "Oh my!" Lupin said. "So many flowers! Did you order all of these, Lady Selima?"

Selima shook her head, but didn't look surprised. "I'm sure some of these were sent by well-wishers."

"Or those trying to toady and curry favor with us," Snape muttered under his breath as his mother glared at him.

There were large wreaths of flowers from the Malfoys and several other prominent pureblood families, including the Parkinsons and Baddocks; there was also one from the Weasleys. There was a much smaller but very elegant arrangement of chrysanthemums from the Kimura family at the Sakura restaurant, and a large flower arrangement that shocked Snape when he found out who it was from.

"Look, Severus," Lupin said, reading the card that came with it. "It's from your students!"

"What?" Snape asked, not sure he'd heard correctly.

"From several of your Slytherins," Lupin continued, "including Blaise, Damien, Draco, Vincent, Gregory, Pansy, Millicent, Serafina, Brad, Yvonne, Patrick, Miriam, and Slaine. Also Padma, Lisa, Luna, and Gabrielle in Ravenclaw; Justin and Hannah in Hufflepuff; and a number of Gryffindors: Hermione, Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, the Creevey siblings, Ginny, Melissa, Martin, Allegra, Chloe, Portia--"

"So many?" Snape interrupted, still in shock.

Lupin nodded, grinning widely. "I told you that you were more popular than you thought!"

Snape flushed. "They're just hoping to butter me up and get good grades!" he blustered.

Selima gave her son a thoughtful look. "You seem to have made quite an impression on your students, Severus."

"What difference does it make?" Snape snapped. "It's just a menial job, I believe you once called it." He remembered it very well, from the time he had accidentally run into her at Diagon Alley last Halloween; she had told him that he should rejoin the Snape family and trade his menial job at Hogwarts for a position of more importance, and he had told her to go to hell.

Lupin kicked Snape in the shin, then smiled sweetly at Selima. "It's actually quite an important job," he told her in a pleasant voice. "Severus is helping to mold young minds and influence the children who will eventually grow up and become leaders in the wizarding world."

"A scary thought," Dylan whispered into his brother's ear, and Theodore smiled.

"Hmm," Selima said, giving Snape another thoughtful look. "You do have a point..."

"Hmmph!" Snape snorted. "All it proves is that my Slytherins have been spending too much time around Lupin. He's a bad influence on them."

Selima ignored him, and begin directing the Greengrasses on where to put the flowers. "You can set those up over there, and I want you to arrange these around the base of the dais..."

"Oh!" cried Daphne, her eyes going wide as she caught sight of the baskets of fragrant roses that Selima was pointing to, roses that the florists had not brought with them. "Black roses!" she exclaimed. "Are these from your estate, Dylan?"

"Yes," he replied. "I asked Lady Selima if she would like some for the funeral, and she said yes, so the Professors took me over to the Rosier estate yesterday to get them."

Daphne knelt down on the ground, her usual shyness replaced by awe. "Oh, they're so beautiful!" she said, picking one up to examine it closely. "No one but the Rosiers has ever been able to grow these, and many people have tried, but they can't find the enchantment that will turn the roses black permanently and carry over into the succeeding generations."

Dylan had never seen her look so animated; her face was practically glowing. "You can have a few if you like," he said carelessly. 

"Really?" she asked eagerly. "I could try grafting them onto our regular stock! But are you sure it's all right? They're so rare, and the Rosiers have never given them away before..."

Selima frowned. "They're a nearly priceless commodity, Dylan. Perhaps you shouldn't just give them away..."

Dylan just shrugged indifferently. "I could sell them, I suppose, but I'm the heir to two estates, and I have all the money I need. I see no harm in giving them to someone who obviously takes such pleasure in them." He grinned rakishly. "Especially a pretty girl."

Daphne blushed, and Theodore whispered, "I'm telling Granger that you were flirting with another girl!"

"I'm not interested in going out with anyone but Hermione," Dylan replied in a lofty tone, "but I admire beauty when I see it."

"Are you sure Granger will see it that way?" Theodore asked dryly.

Selima looked annoyed and whispered to Dylan, "If the Greengrasses can find a way to duplicate the roses, they'll make a fortune selling your black roses! Is that all right with you?"

Dylan shrugged again. "I don't mind."

Selima let out an exasperated sigh, and gave up. Gareth Greengrass said sharply, "That's enough, Daphne! Get back to work, and unload the rest of the flowers from the carriage!"

"Yes, Father!" she said, and hurried to obey, but she did discreetly slip a few of the black roses into the pockets of her robe.

The Greengrasses laid the loose black roses around the base of the dais, as Selima instructed, and set up the larger wreaths and arrangements on either side of it. The smaller arrangements were given to the house-elves to decorate the ballroom.

"This is the last of it," Daphne said, lifting a vase out of the carriage and giving it to Selima. "It's addressed to you personally, Lady Snape."

Selima handed Gareth a pouch of coins in payment, and the Greengrasses departed after politely tendering their condolences to the Snapes. Selima examined the vase she was holding: it was a small, clear glass vase filled with a simple arrangement of odd-looking flowers; the green stems bent over at the top to dangle small, white, bell-shaped blossoms. It looked very plain and insignificant next to all the larger, more elaborate wreaths and bouquets. "I can't imagine who would send me such a thing," she sniffed disdainfully.

"Well, perhaps you should read the card," Lupin suggested practically. "What curious-looking flowers; I've never seen anything like them."

"They're snowdrops," Dylan said. "In the Language of Flowers, it means 'hope and consolation,' or 'let us wait for better days'." Everyone turned to stare at him, and he grinned, blushing a little. "I...er...did some research on flower language a couple years back..."

"Let me guess," Snape said sourly. "To flirt with Miss Granger."

"To apologize to her, actually," Dylan admitted sheepishly. "Did you know that a purple hyacinth means 'I'm sorry'?"

A strange, almost suspicious look suddenly dawned on Selima's face, and she abruptly handed the vase to Lupin, saying, "Here, hold this for a moment." Then she opened the card it came with and read it, and a faint blush stained her cheeks.

"Who is it from?" Lupin asked curiously.

"No one important," Selima said hastily, crumpling up the card and shoving it into her pocket. "Just an old acquaintance that I haven't seen in many years." She turned and started walking back to the mansion saying, "I'm going to check on things in the ballroom, and the rest of you should change into your formal robes soon."

"Wait, Lady Selima," Lupin called after her, holding up the vase of snowdrops. "What about this?" 

She turned back, looking a little flustered. "Oh...just put it in the study for now," she said, then hurried back to the mansion.

"Your mother's acting a little strangely, don't you think?" Lupin asked Snape as they followed her at a more leisurely pace. "Almost like a schoolgirl who's just received a note from a secret admirer."  "My mother?" Snape asked incredulously. "Have secret admirers?"

"Not a secret admirer," Dylan said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "She knows who the flowers were from, I can tell."

"Figures you would be able to tell, Romeo," Theodore teased him.

"I don't know why everyone thinks I'm such a playboy," Dylan protested. "I've only ever dated two girls in my entire life!"

"Yes, but you've flirted with just about every girl in the school," Theodore reminded him.

"I would give almost anything to be able to read that card," Lupin sighed.

Snape was beginning to look alarmed. "You can meddle in my life, and the boys' lives, and the even the lives of my Slytherins," he said sternly. But you are not, I repeat not--" He paused for effect after carefully enunciating each word. "To. Meddle. In. My. Mother's. Life. Is that clear, Lupin?"

"Yes, Severus," Lupin replied meekly, but his eyes looked somewhat distracted. "Of course it wouldn't be appropriate right now, as she's only been widowed a few days, but still...I wonder if those flowers were from one of her old flames at Hogwarts. She did say that she had other suitors besides your father..."

"Lupin!" Snape shouted. "What did I just say?! Lady Selima will be furious if you go digging into her personal life, and I assure you that she's no one to be trifled with at the best of times, but especially when she's angry!"

"Oh, don't get so worked up, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully, patting him on the arm. "I was just curious."

Snape heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Please, just try to stay out of trouble, at least for today," he pleaded.

"Of course, Severus," Lupin replied, but somehow Snape didn't feel very reassured.

*** 

Lupin thought his lover and sons looked very handsome, if somewhat forbidding, in their black dress robes, but to his surprise, they were all outshone by Lady Selima, even Dylan. She was dressed head-to-toe in black, from her black lace veil, to her long gown, to her shoes and gloves. Even her jewelry was black: a necklace, earrings, and bracelets of black pearls, and a magnificent black opal ring the size of a pigeon's egg. Only the fiery iridescence of the opal broke up the pattern of unrelieved black, and it all combined to create quite a striking image. When he had first met her, Lupin had noticed that she was a beautiful woman even though she was old enough to have an adult son, but now she looked absolutely stunning. The veil hid the gray in her hair and the lines on her face, giving Lupin an idea of what she must have looked like as a young girl, and he had no doubt that she had been telling the truth about how she had been much admired for her beauty by the young men at Hogwarts.

"You look beautiful, Lady Selima!" he blurted out.

"You needn't sound so surprised, Professor Lupin," Selima replied in a cool voice, but Lupin thought he detected a hint of smile beneath the veil.

"It's a Gryffindor trait," Snape told his mother, looking a little amused. "They tend to speak without thinking."

"I am sure that the Professor was just dazzled by your beauty, Lady Selima," Dylan said smoothly.

This time Selima really did smile. "And that is how a Slytherin gives compliments, Professor."

"I bow to the master," Lupin said, literally bowing in Dylan's direction, and the boys laughed.

"However," Selima continued, "all the flattery in the world will not spare you from my wrath if any of you do anything to ruin this funeral. The guests will be arriving soon, so take your places and try to behave with a little more decorum, please." The pointed look she gave Lupin seemed to indicate that this remark was being aimed mainly at him, and it was so similar to the one that Severus often gave him, that he was hard-put to keep from bursting into laughter. However, with a great deal of effort, he managed to put a properly grave look on his face before the funeral started.

The guests began arriving at the appointed time, some Apparating over, some coming by broomstick, and the Hogwarts staff and students arriving in the Thestral-drawn carriages. Selima, Snape, and Theodore sat in the front row of chairs facing the dais, which was now draped with blood-red velvet, on top which rested Lord Severin's body. Lupin and Dylan were allowed to sit in the row directly behind the Snapes, which Lupin gathered was supposed to be a position of honor and a magnanimous gesture to her son's werewolf lover on Selima's part. 

The guests seemed to sort themselves out in some sort of unspoken but mutually understood order of rank. The Minister of Magic awkwardly muttered, "So sorry for your loss, Lady Selima, Professor Snape, Theodore," lightly clasping their hands in turn in the customary manner. Snape was forced to endure a kiss on the cheek along with Molly Weasley's condolences, grinding his teeth silently, as his mother would kill him if he made a scene by objecting. 

Theodore's eyes nearly popped out of his head when Molly also gave him a motherly kiss, but well-trained pureblood heir that he was, otherwise managed to keep his composure and mutter a polite "thank you". The Weasley children offered their condolences even more awkwardly than their father, except for Percy, who behaved with his usual rigid formality, and Ginny, who tendered her sympathies solemnly but with all apparent sincerity. Ron clasped Snape's hand as gingerly and reluctantly as if it were a cobra, and Snape looked just as reluctant, though disdainful rather than fearful, and each let go as soon as possible with obvious relief.

After they finished paying their respects, the Weasleys took seats near Lupin and Dylan, then the Headmaster stepped forward and clasped Selima's hand between both of his and said sincerely, "I am so sorry, Selima."

Lupin was a little surprised that he called her by name, not using her title, and even more surprised that Selima did not seem offended, but come to think of it, Dumbledore had once been one of her teachers at Hogwarts. "Thank you, Headmaster," Selima said in her usual tone of cool politeness. "And I thank you also for the loan of your house-elves."

Dumbledore smiled and patted her hand as if she were indeed still one of his students. "Think nothing of it, my dear; I was glad to help." He moved on to place a hand on Snape's shoulder. "How are you holding up, my boy?"

"I am fine, thank you, Headmaster," Snape said stiffly. Dumbledore clasped Theodore's hand and said, "I'm sorry you never really got to know your grandfather, Theodore."

Lupin lifted his hand to his face to hide his smile; trust Dumbledore to offer more than the usual empty platitudes! Theodore stared at the Headmaster for a moment, startled by the unexpected comment, but managed to recover promptly and say, "Ah...yes, so am I," politely if not very truthfully.

Dumbledore took the seat next to Lupin and whispered, "How is he doing, really?"

"Surprisingly well," Lupin whispered back.

The Donners offered their sympathies, and then Branwen, Sirius, Harry, Hermione, and Tonks paused before the dais, then came over to greet the Snapes. Lupin saw Selima frown slightly, and he could guess why: Sirius's half-blood cousin had not been on the list of officially invited guests, although technically she was a part of the Black family. Despite her little act of rebellion, Tonks had changed her spiky violet hair to black, and combed it down smoothly and neatly.

"My deepest sympathies, Lady Selima," Branwen said.

"Thank you, Lady Branwen."

Her favorite student got a little more than the usual polite offer of sympathy; Branwen bent down to hug Severus and kiss him on the cheek, and Lupin had to hide another smile as his lover's face turned bright red. "I'm so sorry, Severus."

"Er...thank you, Branwen," Snape mumbled, still blushing. Theodore, much to his relief, got only a hand clasp and a polite, "My condolences for your loss."

Sirius looked extremely uncomfortable, and tugged nervously at the high collar of his dress robes. "Sorry for your loss, Mrs. Snape," he said awkwardly, and both Selima and Branwen frowned at this social faux pas, although Sirius didn't seem to notice. In his defense, Sirius had not really been a part of pureblood society since leaving home at age sixteen, and had never bothered much with the niceties of pureblood manners.

"I'm really sorry about your father, Snape," Sirius said, still looking ill at ease, but his words were sincere, and he clasped Snape's hand firmly.

"Thank you, Black," Snape said, without his usual sarcasm, then glared at his former Professor when he caught her smiling at him.

"My deepest condolences for your loss, Lady Selima," Harry said, just as Hermione and Draco had coached him.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," Selima said politely, and Harry looked relieved for a moment--until he came face-to-face with Snape.

"Um...I'm sorry for your loss, Professor," Harry said with less composure, taking Snape's extended hand just as gingerly as Ron had.

"Thank you, Potter," Snape said, a bit sourly, and Harry gratefully moved on. 

Selima accepted Hermione's sympathies coolly but politely, and Snape flushed a little at her earnest, "I'm so sorry, Professor!" Meanwhile, Theodore endured all the polite condolences for a grandfather that he barely knew, fighting to keep his expression polite and properly solemn although his eyes were beginning to look a little glazed.

Selima's "thank you" changed from cool to positively icy when Tonks greeted her. As the young Auror clasped Snape's hand, she bent down and whispered into his ear, "Sorry to show up uninvited, Severus, but I just wanted to tell you in person how sorry I am about your father."

Snape looked surprised, and for a split-second, almost touched. "Thank you, Tonks," he said, and actually sounded sincere. Then he set his face in a look of feigned bewilderment. "I know we sent out an invitation; it must have gotten lost in the mail." Tonks smiled and winked at him, and Selima shot him a quick glare. Theodore smiled a little, looking pleased to have the tedium of the day interrupted for a moment.

Selima's family, the Bashirs, were next, and Lupin was a little disturbed to see that the condolences they offered her sounded as cool and impersonal as if they were complete strangers instead of family, although neither Selima nor Severus seemed surprised or upset by this. They were all beautiful and handsome, with the same coloring as Selima, golden skin and dark hair and eyes, and they were just as cold and imperious as she was, and Lupin suddenly understood where she had gotten it from. 

Even when Selima's mother bent down to kiss her cheek, it seemed more perfunctory than affectionate, as if she was only doing what was expected in polite society, her lips barely touching her daughter's face. They all looked at Severus and Theodore disapprovingly, even as they were uttering polite words of sympathy, and Lupin's inner wolf growled silently. 

Only one Bashir seemed any different, a plump man with a good-natured face, and a number of gaudy rings on his hands that clashed with his severe black robes. Selima greeted him as "Ali," and she frowned disapprovingly when he patted Severus on the shoulder and said, "The prodigal son returns home, eh? At least you were able to make up with your father before he died."

"Yes, Uncle Ali," Severus said sourly, and Lupin remembered where he'd heard that name before; he was the cousin of Selima's who had given the Snapes the flying carpet in the library. Lupin didn't really know anything else about him, but Ali greeted Theodore with a smile and a firm handshake, which was a point in his favor as far as Lupin and the wolf were concerned. Dylan obviously recalled that conversation in the library, too, because his eyes suddenly lit up with interest; Lupin smiled a little, remembering how impressed the boys had been by the flying carpet.

Lupin repressed a yawn as the long line of mourners continued to slowly file past the Snapes; it seemed to take hours, and it no doubt seemed even longer to Severus, whose polite responses were sounding increasingly forced. Lady Selima seemed in her element, but Severus, like Sirius, was never one to bother with the niceties, and being forced to be polite and behave like a proper pureblood heir must be torture for him. Then again, if he could feign subservience to the Dark Lord for all those years, spending one day being polite to people he didn't like very much probably wouldn't kill him.

Finally all the mourners had expressed their sympathies and taken their seats, but the boredom was not yet over. Former colleagues of Severin's got up to give speeches about how deeply he would be missed, but most of them seemed to be straining to come up with positive things to say about him. Most of these comments seemed to run along the lines of "he was a man of deep and unswerving principles," which Lupin interpreted as being a nice way of saying that he was stubborn as a mule; it seemed to be a Snape family trait.

Selima had managed to persuade Arthur Weasley to speak; he had known Severin, but only just barely, having been a junior assistant at the Ministry around the time that Severin had retired. Most of his speech essentially repeated what the previous speakers had already said, but what he said didn't matter so much as the fact that it was the Minster of Magic who was saying it. It was quite a feather in Lady Selima's cap to have the Minister speaking at the funeral, and all her peers looked suitably impressed. "Lord Severin was a respected member of the community, who worked hard to serve the wizarding world during his tenure at the Ministry of Magic, and he will be deeply missed. Still, being reunited with his son must have comforted him in his last days, and I am sure that he will rest easy knowing that the Snape family is in good hands." 

Everyone applauded politely (although Snape looked a little annoyed by that last sentence). Arthur was supposed to be the last speaker before the Snape family spoke, but Dumbledore leaned forward and quietly asked Selima for permission to speak. Selima regarded him with trepidation; one never knew what Dumbledore might do, but she could hardly say "no" to someone of his stature, so she reluctantly assented.

"Lord Severin was not a very pleasant man, nor one who was easy to like," Dumbledore said once he reached the podium, and Selima let out a little sigh of annoyance, while Snape's lips twitched upwards in a small, sardonic smile. "However," Dumbledore continued, "he always held fast to his own code of honor, and neither threats nor bribery could convince him to break it." An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd, and some of them exchanged guilty looks, because many of them had supported, if not actually joined, the Death Eaters, either because of fear or hope of advancement. "I respected him for that, although we did not always see eye to eye." 

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "He referred to me on more than one occasion as 'that bleeding heart liberal,' and I once told him not be so stiff-necked with pride." There was nervous laughter, and Selima sighed again. "However, I am grateful that he was able to reconcile with his son before he died, both for his own sake, and for the sake of my valued colleague and friend, Professor Snape." Snape's face turned red again. "I hope Severin will rest easy, knowing that the Snape line will continue through his son and grandson." Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgment of the halfhearted applause, and returned to his seat.

"I'm going to kill that old man," Snape muttered under his breath.

"Shh!" Selima hissed, although she looked as though she would have liked to do the same. She rose to her feet, and beckoned Snape and Theodore to follow her to the podium. "Severin was in great pain in the last few months of his life," she said, "but it brought him comfort when our son finally returned home to his family." She stressed the word "finally" just a little as she cast a sidelong glance at Snape, who fought the urge to glare at her. "He lived long enough to welcome his new grandson to the family, and was at peace when he left this world, knowing that the Snape name would live on, and not die with him."

She stepped aside, and Snape reluctantly moved forward to speak. "The news of my father's illness was...er...shocking and dismaying, of course, but I find that I am very grateful for it, because it led to me adopting my son and heir, Theodore." Selima flashed him another pointed look his way, and he added, "And reunited me with my family." The look of suppressed resentment in his eyes vanished when Theodore said earnestly, "I swear that I will be a worthy son and heir to you, Father, and uphold the honor of the Snape family."

Selima gave him a small, cool smile of approval, then startled Lupin by walking to the dais and removing a ring from her husband's hand; no one had explained this part of the ceremony to him, but Severus and most of the crowd seemed to expect it. "Step forward, Severus," Selima said, in what seemed to be a ritual phrase, "and receive the symbol of Lordship of the Snape House." Severus stepped forward, extending his right hand, and Selima slipped the Snape signet ring onto his finger. She bowed her head and said, "Lord Snape."

Snape inclined his head as well, saying, "I will uphold the honor of the Snape family."

"We bid farewell to the old Lord," Selima said, and lifted her veil for a moment to press her lips to her husband's forehead, then bowed before the dais, and returned to her seat. Her face still seemed cool and expressionless, although it was difficult to tell, being hidden beneath a layer of black lace. Snape merely bowed deeply before the dais, not touching his father's body, and Theodore followed his lead.

When they were all seated, the undertaker stepped forward, raised his wand, and began chanting an incantation. Lupin's eyes widened with surprise as he recognized the words of the incantation, but even guessing what was coming, he still cried out when a bolt of lightning appeared out of nowhere and struck Severin's body, instantly turning it into a pile of ash. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one; he also heard Tonks, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and several of the of the other students let out startled little shrieks and yelps, and there was a collective gasp from the assembled crowd, even though most of the guests seemed to have been expecting this.

Vorcher appeared out of nowhere, carrying an ornately carved silver casket; Lupin had not seen him at the funeral, and had assumed that he was working in the kitchen or ballroom. Selima calmly got up, and the undertaker helped her fold up the red velvet cloth on the dais, neatly gathering up Lord Severin's ashes in it, and she placed it in the casket. Then she took the casket from Vorcher, and carried it across the estate grounds to the family crypt. Her son and grandson followed, and the guests trailed behind them.

The entrance to the underground crypt was a small, bleak-looking building of gray stone, its double doors carved with mirror images of the Snape family crest of a serpent. The Snapes entered the crypt; only family were allowed inside, so all the guests remained outside, waiting.

"Were you expecting that?" Lupin whispered to Dumbledore.

"Expecting what, Remus?"

"You know...big lightning bolt coming out of the sky, vaporizing Lord Severin's body..."

"Oh, that," Dumbledore said casually, his eyes twinkling a little. "It's a Snape family tradition. Didn't Severus explain it to you?"

"No," Lupin said darkly, thinking that he was going to have a little talk with Severus later. Maybe this was payback for spying on Severus kissing the boys goodnight, or for speculating about Lady Selima's old flames, or...well, Lupin had to admit that there were a great many things that a certain snarky Slytherin might want to inflict a little harmless revenge for.

"But Lady Selima explained everything to us yesterday," Dylan said. "Oh, that's right...I think you were down in the kitchen fixing tea. But I assumed the Professor would tell you about it later."

"Well, he said that all the Snape Lords are cremated and laid to rest in the family crypt, but I didn't realize it would happen in quite that fashion! I assumed that...I don't know, that the undertaker would do it at the funeral parlor or something..." 

Dylan smiled. "I was wondering why you seemed so shocked, although it was very...um...impressive. Even knowing what was going to happen, I still jumped a little."

Sirius came up behind them, chuckling softly. "You know the purebloods, Moony; they like to make a grand spectacle of things."

"Why are the Snape Lords always cremated?" Hermione asked curiously.

Branwen replied, "It's an interesting story. Sebastian Snape, who lived in the time of the Founders, once made a mortal enemy of a Necromancer. Eventually he defeated and killed this Necromancer, but he worried that the Necromancer might have family or colleagues that would come after the Snapes to take revenge. Lord Sebastian was apparently a little paranoid, although not without good reason; he did have many enemies. Because Necromancers need bone or blood or flesh to work with, Sebastian decreed that he and all his descendants would be cremated when they died, to prevent a Necromancer or other Dark Wizard from getting hold of their remains and using them for nefarious purposes."

Hermione looked fascinated. "But doesn't the cremation process leave behind bone fragments?" she asked.

"Hermione!" Ron protested, looking a little queasy.

Branwen smiled. "Perhaps the Muggle cremation process does, but the spell you just saw leaves behind nothing but a pile of very fine ash, nothing a Necromancer could do anything with."

"Impressive," Hermione murmured.

"Can we please talk about something else?" Ron pleaded.

"You've never mentioned anything about Necromancy in Defense class," Hermione said to Lupin, ignoring Ron.

"It's a very rare form of magic," Lupin said. "Not many people have the talent for it, thankfully, since it's a very evil and powerful type of sorcery."

"That's the type of magic Voldemort must have used!" Harry suddenly blurted out, his green eyes going wide and round with realization. "He used a bone from his father, and Wormtail's flesh, and my blood to create his new body!"

The people nearby them were beginning to stare at them with fear and disapproval in their eyes. Lowering his voice, Lupin whispered, "A combination of Necromancy and Blood Magic, yes, I believe so, Harry. Quite astute of you to realize that. But this isn't really the time and place to discuss it."

"Oh, sorry," Harry apologized.

Lupin smiled at him. "We can discuss it further at school if you like, and perhaps I can work something into my lessons about defending against Blood Magic. Dealing with Necromancy, even in defense, is somewhat advanced beyond your level, though--"

The Snapes emerged from the crypt, and Lupin fell silent. "Thank you all for coming," Selima said to the crowd. "I am sure Severin would appreciate seeing so many of his friends and colleagues come to pay their respects. Please follow me back to the house for some refreshment."

The ballroom was tastefully decorated with the flower arrangements delivered earlier by the Greengrasses, and the Hogwarts elves were standing behind long tables laid out with food and drink, ready to serve the guests. Although there were some tables and chairs available so that the guests could sit down and eat, most of them walked around the room, mingling with the other guests and paying their respects to their hosts, so most of the food being served were finger foods that could easily be eaten with one hand: dainty little pastries, sandwiches cut into small triangles, canapes and hors d'oeuvres, etc. Lupin went looking for Severus, and found him making polite small talk with a couple of Ministry officials. Lupin was starving--breakfast had been hours ago--so he took the opportunity to get some food and a glass of wine. He was just munching on a pastry puff filled with something cheesy (whatever else he might be, Vorcher was certainly a good cook), when Severus managed to excuse himself and join Lupin.

He plucked the glass of wine from Lupin's hand and drained it in one long gulp. "God, I needed that!" he sighed. "Do you know how excruciating it was to sit there saying 'thank you' all morning, with my mother staring daggers at me to keep me from stepping out of line and saying something other than the usual polite and inane response? Not to mention sitting through all those hypocritical speeches...I need another glass of wine." He beckoned to a house-elf who was circulating through the room carrying a tray of drinks.

"At least there was one honest speaker," Lupin said, smiling as Dumbledore approached them. 

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, I thought that Severin should have at least one tribute that honored him for what he really was. I didn't like your father, Severus--"

"Join the club," Snape muttered, sipping his wine.

"--but I did respect him. He could have saved his career by currying favor with the Malfoys, but he didn't. Of course his best trait was also his worst flaw, as he was so damn stubborn that he could never admit when he was wrong--as he was about you, Severus."

Snape shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. I would have left my family, anyway, and it gave me a good excuse not to return home."

"But you did come home, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "And I hope you will glad of it, someday."

"I only did it for Theodore's sake," Snape mumbled, taking another sip of wine from his glass, which was now half-empty.

"Here," Lupin said, holding out his plate. "If you're going to keep drinking at that rate, you'd better have some food to balance it out. Lady Selima will be very upset if you start dancing on the tables."

"Even drunk, I assure you that I would never dance on the tables," Snape told him haughtily, but ate a small sandwich nevertheless.

"And by the way," Lupin added sarcastically, "thanks for warning me about the cremation spell."

"What?" Snape said, feigning a look of innocent surprise. "Oh, that! I guess it would be a little startling if you hadn't been expecting it."

"A little? I nearly had a heart attack!" Lupin told him.

"Sorry," Snape said with a grin. "We were so busy getting ready for the funeral that it must have slipped my mind. You know how my mother had us all rushing around..."

"I'm sure it was just an oversight on your part," Lupin said dryly.

Selima joined them, saying, "Thank you again for coming, Headmaster. And I must thank you once again for the loan of your house-elves; they've been a great help."

"Severus is one of my best teachers, as well as a good friend," Dumbledore assured her with a smile. "I was only too happy to help."

"It speaks well of you, Severus," Selima said, "that so many of your students and colleagues have come to pay their respects." She looked across the room, at Theodore and Dylan talking with Draco, Pansy, Millicent, and Malcolm. Nearby, some of the younger Slytherins--Miriam, Patrick, and Slaine--were feeding treats to Bane as they chatted with Sirius and Branwen. McGonagall and Sprout were filling up their plates at the buffet table, Flitwick was talking with Math and Goewin, Madam Pomfrey was having a conversation with a Healer from St. Mungo's, and Professor Trelawney seemed to be predicting doom for a fascinated and horrified Elaine Baddock. 

Selima frowned slightly as her gaze fell upon Hagrid, who was dressed in his best robes, which bore an unfortunate resemblance to a bearskin rug. He was balancing a plate piled precariously high with food in one hand; it looked ridiculously tiny, like a toy for a dollhouse, in his huge palm.

"Are all the Hogwarts teachers here?" Selima asked casually, but something in her voice made Snape frown suspiciously.

"Most of them," Dumbledore replied. "Professor Binns never leaves the school, of course, and we couldn't leave the students unattended, so Mr. Filch, Madam Hooch, and Master Bleddri kindly agreed to remain behind to watch over them. But I believe that all the other teachers are here."

"I see," Selima said, and dropped the subject. Scanning the room, she said, "Most of Severin's former colleagues from the Ministry are here, but I see that the Diggorys did not come. Amos didn't know Severin very well, but it still would have been polite for him to at least show his face."

"That may be my fault," Lupin said apologetically. "It seems he disapproves of werewolves."

Selima sniffed disdainfully. "Well, of course, but so do most of the people here, and that didn't stop them from doing their duty. They did send a flower arrangement, but I suspect that was his wife's doing; I remember her as a sweet girl, much too good for that pompous blowhard."

"Well, he's not really that bad," Lupin said. "He seemed to be a loving father to Cedric."

Selima sniffed again. "It's a shame that Cynric died; he would have made a much better head of the Diggory family than Amos." She saw Priscilla Parkinson waving to her, and sighed. "Excuse me, please, I must see to my other guests."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, and Selima walked off.

Snape stared morosely into his now-empty wineglass. "Only about two more hours of torture left," he sighed.

"Maybe you should slow down a little, then," Lupin suggested as Snape beckoned to the house-elf again and exchanged the empty glass for a full one.

Snape started to reply, then looked across the room and saw Hermione frowning disapprovingly at the house-elf servants. "I'd better go make sure that Miss Granger doesn't cause a scene by trying to persuade the house-elves to throw off the chains of oppression. I'd never hear the end of it from Mother."

"I'm sure she wouldn't make a scene on an occasion like this, Severus," Lupin said.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Snape replied. 

But when he approached her and gave her a stern warning, she said, "Of course I wouldn't do that, Professor," looking a little hurt. "It would be disrespectful to you and your father. But I do intend to keep fighting for house-elf rights."

"Weren't all the non-humans given equal rights after the war?" Harry asked.

"The equal rights bill covers only those creatures, such as the werewolves and centaurs, who provided support in the war against Voldemort," Morrigan De Lacy said. 

She nodded politely at Snape, who said, "Thank you for coming, Morrigan."

"Will you introduce me to--I assume these are your students, Severus?"

"This is Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. and Miss Weasley."

"You might need to be a bit more specific, Severus," Morrigan said with a mischievous grin, as she glanced over at the buffet table where the the twins, Bill, and Charlie were refilling their plates. "There seem to be a great many Mr. Weasleys about."

Ginny giggled and said, "I'm Ginny, and this is Ron. We're the two youngest Weasleys."

"This is Morrigan De Lacy," Snape said. "She is the niece of the previous Head of Slytherin, a former student, and the lawyer who assisted me with Theodore's adoption."

"Dylan told me about you!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "You helped him get his estate back!"

"Are you interested in a career as a lawyer, Miss Granger?" Morrigan asked, looking amused.

"I don't know," Hermione said with a frown. "I haven't decided yet. Dylan thinks I should go into Potions, and I do find that subject fascinating, but maybe as a lawyer I could do more to fight for house-elf rights...do you have any advice?"

"Well, my specialty is litigation rather than civil rights," Morrigan said, still smiling. "But it seems to me that there is little money to be made in fighting for house-elf rights." As Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Morrigan continued, "Your zeal is commendable, Miss Granger, and I have no doubt that you would be willing to work pro bono for the elves, but how will you support yourself while you do so?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Hermione said sheepishly.

"You would either need to take up a second career, say as a potion-brewer, or take on additional paid cases as a lawyer. And you know, you will need powerful backing to pass a bill granting house-elves independence. You would do well to start slowly, building up a list of influential clients who might be able to do you favors in the future..."

Snape and Lupin drifted away unnoticed as Hermione and Morrigan carried on an animated discussion. "Morrigan doesn't strike me as being the type to be interested in house-elf rights," Lupin said.

"She doesn't give a damn about house-elf rights," Snape said with an amused smile, "but she might be interested in gaining a new assistant and protege."

"Ah, I see," Lupin said. He was about to ask if Severus would be disappointed to lose a possible future Potions Mistress, but was interrupted by a couple of high-ranking Ministry officials.

"Severus! It's such a shame about your father..."

Snape sighed and took a gulp of wine to brace himself for more polite, meaningless small talk and reminiscences.

Lupin discreetly edged away and circulated around the room, pausing now and then to greet some of his students and colleagues. "Remus!" Arthur said with a look of relief, excusing himself and moving away from the wizard he was talking to.

"But you'll take it under advisement, Arthur?" the wizard called out hopefully.

"I'll keep it in mind, Basil," Arthur said, then sighed as he joined Lupin. "Thank goodness you came along! I need a break from people asking me for raises or promotions or bigger budgets for their departments--and those are only the people who work at the Ministry! The others want me to speak at some luncheon, or push a certain bill, or waive a certain fee or regulation--"

"Here," Lupin said, snagging a glass of wine from a passing house-elf. "Have something to drink."

Arthur drained half of it in one gulp, and Lupin thought to himself that at this rate, the room would soon be filled with drunken wizards, and wondered if he ought to instruct the house-elves to water the wine.

"So how is Severus holding up?" Arthur asked, looking a little more calm.

"He's doing all right," Lupin said. "He's a little stressed out, but he's not really comfortable at these sorts of functions. He can't even stand attending the Yule Ball at Hogwarts, let alone a pureblood gathering, but Lady Selima put her foot down, and quite frankly, she's very difficult to say 'no' to."

"Indeed," Arthur said with a wry smile. "I don't know her well, but she has a reputation as a very formidable woman."

"Arthur!" cried a hearty voice, and Arthur and Lupin turned to see Ali Bashir approaching them.

"Ali," Arthur said without much enthusiasm. "How nice to see you again. Do you know Professor Lupin?"

"No, but I've read a great deal about him in the Daily Prophet," Ali said, and to Lupin's surprise, the other wizard grinned and winked at him. He held out his hand and Lupin shook it. "It's nice to finally meet you. My, you've certainly stirred up a hornet's nest!" Ali chuckled. "Who would have thought young Severus would turn out to be such a rebel? He was so well-behaved as a little boy, always did exactly as his parents told him."

"And you're not offended?" Lupin asked cautiously. "By Severus and I disgracing the Snape name, I mean?"

"Pish-posh," Ali said airily, flapping his hand in a dismissive gesture. "For one thing, I'm not a Snape, and for another, the purebloods are much too staid and hidebound for their own good. They need to loosen up a bit." He grinned at Lupin and added, "It's good to shake things up a little every now and then." Arthur was trying to discreetly back away, but Ali turned to him and asked, "Don't you agree, Arthur?"

"Uh, well, I suppose so, Ali..."

Ali slipped his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Such as that silly regulation forbidding the sale of flying carpets..."

"Ali, I told you before that I can't do anything about--"

"Ah, but that was before you became Minister of Magic," Ali purred persuasively. "Such things are now within your power to change."

"Ali, really!" Arthur protested. "It's hardly proper to conduct business at a funeral!"

"But how often do I get a chance to speak with the Minister of Magic himself?" Ali asked with a charming smile. "How could I let such an opportunity pass?"

"Ali, please, I can't discuss this now. If you'll make an appointment--"

"Excuse me," Dylan said, his eyes bright and eager. "I don't mean to interrupt, but are you Ali Bashir?"

"Indeed I am," Ali replied. "And you must be young Mr. Rosier, Severus's protege."

"The Professor said that you deal in flying carpets...?"

Ali smiled at Dylan, and at Theodore and the other children with them who looked equally eager and excited. "You see?" Ali told Arthur triumphantly. "Look at all these young people, interested in carrying on an ancient tradition of wizardly transportation!"

"I think it would be so exciting to ride a flying carpet!" Pansy exclaimed.

Arthur sighed, a pained look on his face, as he listened to Ali's sales pitch. Lupin chuckled, then happened to glance across the room, and spotted Narcissa standing alone, looking very unhappy. He made his way towards her, and noticed a cluster of pureblood women standing nearby, gossiping loudly. 

One of them took a glass of wine from a house-elf and said sweetly, "Why, thank you, Dobby."

Dobby beamed up at her. "You're welcome, Mistress!" Then he happily walked off, delighted to be treated with respect by a human witch--or so he thought.

The pureblood women laughed. "Is that the Malfoys' house-elf?" a second woman asked, loud enough for Narcissa to hear. "He's certainly gotten above himself, hasn't he?"

"I can't believe Selima actually invited the Malfoys to the funeral!" a third woman said in a stage whisper, as Narcissa's face turned red. "I mean, Narcissa killed her own husband!"

"But he was a Death Eater," the first woman said in a bright, merry voice. "The Aurors would have killed him anyway!" 

The women all laughed, and Lupin headed towards them, his face set in a rarely-seen expression of anger. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do or say, but it would probably have been something that would have ruined Selima's party and made her furious with him--except that he never got the chance.

Selima joined the crowd of women, greeting them with a smile, then beckoned to the object of their ridicule. "Narcissa dear, come here for a moment." Still flushing, but with her head held high, Narcissa approached. "So tell me," Selima said casually, "is it true that you stabbed Lucius in the back?"

Her companions gasped in shock; Selima was never so blunt, but they eagerly awaited Narcissa's response.

"Yes," Narcissa replied stiffly, still holding her head high. "I did. And I'm not sorry for it; he would have killed our son."

To everyone's shock, including Narcissa's and Lupin's, Selima patted Narcissa on the cheek fondly and said, "Good for you, dear. No one deserved it more." As Narcissa stared at her dumbfounded, Selima took her arm and said, "Come dear, it's been so long since I've last seen you; we have some catching up to do. And there are some people I'd like you to meet." Narcissa allowed Selima to lead her away, too stunned to resist, and Selima's friends just stood there with their mouths hanging open.

Selima's free hand held a half-empty glass of wine, and a bemused Lupin wondered if Severus wasn't the only Snape who might have had too much to drink. He continued to watch as Selima and Narcissa stopped to chat with Ministry officials and other members of high society, and smiled a little. Selima was gifting Narcissa with her approval, and by extension, a measure of the respectability that the Malfoys had lost when Lucius had been exposed as a Death Eater. Lupin wasn't sure why she was doing it--perhaps it was simply because she had hated Lucius, whom she blamed for the death of her friend, Vanessa Malfoy, Lucius's mother--but whatever the reason, Lupin was grateful for it. 

"Sometimes you surprise me, Lady Selima," Lupin murmured to himself.

Selima left Narcissa safely in the care of Sirius, Branwen, and Arthur. He greeted Narcissa warmly, which was probably due more to relief at escaping from Ali Bashir than anything to do with Narcissa herself, but Lupin saw that the Minister of Magic speaking in a friendly manner to Narcissa was making an impression on the pureblood crowd. 

Meanwhile, Ali was still holding court over the spellbound crowd of students, which had been joined by Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a couple of other Aurors.

"Hmm," Kingsley said thoughtfully. "A large carpet could transport a prisoner more easily than a broomstick. You can't really carry a prisoner astride with you on a broom."

"Exactly!" Ali said.

"But a prison carriage is much more secure," another Auror objected.

"Of course," Ali said smoothly, "but in an emergency, where no carriage is available..."

Lupin smiled and moved on. He saw that Selima was now talking to the Parkinsons--Pansy's mother, father, and grandmother. They spoke for awhile, but Selima's pleasant smile began to grow a little strained, and soon she excused herself and left the room, picking up a fresh glass of wine on the way. Lupin frowned as he watched the Parkinsons whisper to each other, a hint of malicious curiosity and gloating hidden beneath their expressions of false concern. Lupin looked around for Severus, but he had been cornered by Millicent's parents, and was deep in conversation with them. Lupin hesitated, then slipped out of the room and went looking for Selima.

*** 

Selima had been dealing with pureblood politics all her life, but in the middle of talking to the Parkinsons, suddenly she could not stand the false sympathy, meaningless small talk, and sly insinuations about Severus and the werewolf any longer. She pleaded a headache, and said that she was going to get some fresh air for a moment.

"Of course, dear," Priscilla cooed sweetly, laying a hand on her arm. "You poor thing, you've been under such stress lately--all this business with Severus, and then Severin dying..."

Selima resisted the urge to slap Priscilla's hand away, and said, smiling sweetly back at her, "I'm fine, just a little tired. Please excuse me."

Selima left the room, leaving behind her empty glass and grabbing a full one on the way out. She probably shouldn't leave; who knew what trouble Severus and the werewolf might get into while she was not there to watch them? Well, to be honest, it was much more likely that Severus would be the one to get in trouble, probably by losing his temper and saying something truthful but tactless to someone important, as Lupin was much better at controlling his temper than her son was, but right at this moment, Selima didn't give a damn. Let them fend for themselves, and she would sort things out later if need be.

She went to the study, the nearest room where she could be alone and was not likely to be disturbed. She collapsed into the chair behind the desk, breathing a sigh of relief at the blessed silence, and took a sip of wine. Then her eyes fell upon the vase of snowdrops sitting on the desk. She had forgotten that she'd told Lupin to put them here; she had simply wanted them out of the way and out of her sight at the time. She slowly reached out and touched one of the white blossoms, thinking of her son, and how he had chosen love over duty, and how she had made the opposite choice forty years ago...

*** 

An owl delivered a note to Selima's dorm room; all it said was, "Meet me by the lake," with no signature, but she recognized the writing and knew who it was from. Fortunately, her roommate was out studying at the library, so she didn't have to make any excuses about where she was going. Her heart racing with a mixture of fear and hope and anger, she hurried off to the lake, taking care not to be seen by anyone.

She found him by the lake, skipping stones across the water's surface. He looked as handsome as ever, but his normal charming grin had been replaced by an anxious frown. "What are you doing here, Prospero?" she asked sharply. "You're not supposed to be here without permission, and I doubt that you registered at the office as a guest."

"Come now, my dear," Prospero said with an attempt at his old grin, but it fell flat. "I am an alumni, after all. I stopped by to visit one of my old teachers so that I'd have an excuse to be on campus."

Selima crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "What do you want, Prospero? Be quick about it; I'll get in trouble if I'm caught sneaking off to meet a boy."

"Yes, Selima," Prospero said bitterly. "You must be very careful about guarding your reputation; I've heard that your parents are negotiating a marriage for you with Severin Snape. Damn it, Selima, did you think I wouldn't hear about it? Did you think I would just stay away when I did?"

"Do you think I have any choice in the matter?" Selima retorted. "This all your fault, anyway, Prospero! You've had two years since graduation to make something of yourself, to become someone my father would consider worthy, and what have you done? Nothing! You had a position at the Ministry--"

"As a low-level clerk!" Prospero interrupted.

"--which could have been a stepping stone to something higher," Selima continued, "but you managed to get yourself fired!"

"Because I wouldn't kiss Lucien Malfoy's lily-white arse!" Prospero snapped.

"For Merlin's sake, Prospero, grow up! That's how people get ahead in the wizarding world, by currying favor with the right people! If you really loved me, you would have done whatever it took to get ahead and win my father's favor, even if meant kissing Lucien Malfoy's lily-white arse, as you put it!"

"Selima, I'm sorry," Prospero said, his expression suddenly changing from angry to guilty. "I'm no good at all the lying and flattering and brownnosing, but just give me a chance--please, don't let them formalize the betrothal! If you can put them off for another few months--"

"And what?" Selima cried. "You'll inherit a fortune? Pray for a miracle? It's too late for that, Prospero! My father might have been willing to betroth me to a young rising star in the Ministry up until a few months ago, but now the Snape Lord is seeking my hand in marriage! You'd have to become Minister of Magic for him to turn such an offer down!"

"You're not seriously considering marrying him, Selima! He's twice your age!"

"He has an important position at the Ministry, and he belongs to one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the wizarding world!"

"And is wealth and position so important to you?" Prospero asked, looking hurt. "More important than us?"

"Don't be an idiot, Prospero!" Selima shouted, then gave him an anguished look. "I don't give a damn about Lord Snape's name or money; I'd marry if you if I could, but--"

Prospero clasped her hands in his. "Then do it! Let's run off and get married, and to hell with Lord Snape!"

Selima angrily jerked her hands away. "I don't want to marry him, Prospero, but I have a duty to my family! They would be disgraced if I did that, and they'd make a powerful enemy in Lord Snape!"

"What duty do you have to a family that would sell their daughter to the highest bidder?" Prospero shouted. "That would marry her off to a stranger twice her age just to make an advantageous alliance?" Selima slapped him hard across the face. He didn't even wince, just stood there with her handprint on his cheek and tears in his eyes. "You won't even inherit anything from them, Selima," he said softly. "You're the eldest child, but your younger brother will inherit the family business and title solely because he is male. If you marry Severin Snape, your family will regard you as a Snape, not a Bashir, and you will have sacrificed your happiness and your future for a family you will no longer be a part of."

"It's my duty," Selima said helplessly, unable to word it in a way that he would understand. "You're a pureblood, Prospero; you ought to understand that."

He shook his head sadly. "I will never understand pureblood politics."

"That much is clear," Selima said tartly. "Else your family fortune would not be in such a state of decline."

"That hurts, Selima."

"The truth hurts, Prospero."

"I love you, Selima," Prospero whispered.

Selima wanted nothing more than to run away with him. She wouldn't even mind living in a hovel, barely scraping together a living if she would be the only one affected--but she would not be; her entire clan would be affected by her actions. "I love you, Prospero," she said in a cold, empty voice. "But love is not enough. I have a duty to my family. You may be willing to shirk yours, but I will not shirk mine."

"You will not change your mind," Prospero said with a sad smile.

It was not quite a question, but Selima answered it anyway. "No."

Prospero turned and walked away without another word. Two weeks later, he let his parents arrange a betrothal to a girl of good family, if not much wealth. _So much for love,_ Selima thought bitterly when she heard; how easily he had given up and replaced her with another. She told herself that it was just as well, that she did not want him scandalizing the wizarding world and disgracing her family name by showing up at her wedding to declare his love and attempt to sweep her away like a white knight from some silly fairy tale, but she found no comfort in it. She would not have run off with him, of course, but still, it hurt that he didn't even try.

After careful negotiations, her betrothal to Severin was finalized, and they were wed six months later. During that period of time, she saw her future husband only briefly, in a handful of chaperoned visits that were all quite formal and awkward. There was a suitably grand wedding and reception, attended by all the most important of the pureblood families, and if the bride's smile was more cool and polite than radiantly happy, no one commented upon it. 

The servants helped her change out of her bridal finery into a silk nightgown, and left her in the Lord's bedroom, and for the first time, she was alone with her new husband.

Oddly enough, Severin looked a little awkward and ill at ease himself. "You are...ah...very young, Selima, and I'm not sure if...ah..." He coughed, his face turning red. "If your mother has properly...er...prepared you for what to expect on your wedding night..."

Selima felt her own face turn red, but she almost laughed. She had not expected Lord Severin to be so...quaint. Did he really think that any Slytherin, however well-bred, did not know the facts of life? She lifted her head and said coolly, "I am a virgin, of course--" No one would ever offer a Lord of Severin's rank used goods as a bride.

"Of course," Severin said, looking a little amused himself.

"But I assure you that the women of my family have..." She cast her eyes downward in a modest fashion. "...instructed me in my wifely duties." She lifted her gaze again. "I will do my best to please my Lord and bear him an heir." And she profoundly hoped that Lord Severin's tastes were not as debauched as some of the other pureblood men she had heard gossip of.

Severin gave her a cool but approving smile. "No girlish tears or hysterics...you are a sensible girl--no, woman, Selima. I see that I chose well for my bride." He held out his hand, and she took it, and he led her to the bed.

He was not gentle, precisely--for that implied a degree of tenderness that Lord Severin seemed to lack--but he was patient and took care not to cause her pain, or at least, as little pain as possible.

As it turned out, she need not have worried about Lord Severin being debauched. He came to her bed about once a week, but it seemed to be more for the sake of making an heir than for pleasure. He kept up his air of formal distance even in bed, and performed in an efficient, almost mechanical manner. Whenever they went out in public, everyone commented on how lucky he was to have such a beautiful young bride, and he would smile, looking pleased, but in the sort of way one would look pleased if someone had complimented him on a fine piece of art he had just purchased. As far as Selima could tell, he had no mistresses, or male lovers, for that matter, nor did he visit any houses of pleasure--not that she would have minded, so long as he was discreet. It seemed that what passion he possessed was channeled solely into his magical studies and career ambitions. 

At first, performing such an intimate act with someone who was essentially a stranger was rather embarrassing, but Selima did her duty to her husband without complaint, and did her best to hide her embarrassment. And after awhile, she did not have to feign her composure; in a way, it helped that her husband was so distant. Sex became simply a necessary physical act to be performed. After the first time, it was never again painful, but nor did Severin arouse any great passion in her, and he never said he loved her, but neither did she want him to. She'd had love before with Prospero, and the result had been ultimately unsatisfying: a short time of sweet and heady infatuation ending in heartache and frustration. No, she told herself, she'd had her fill of love. She and Severin lived in harmony, if not passion, and that was much more satisfying. Or so she told herself.

That harmony was not always easy to achieve; Severin was a blunt man, not given to flattery and compliments, and he was more prone to give orders than requests. He was also extremely stubborn and would never admit he was wrong, even when he knew he was. Still, he had one thing in his favor, and that was the fact that he treated her with respect. He didn't want a simpering, helpless plaything, as he made clear on their wedding night; he wanted someone sensible. He expected her to defer to him in public, but in private, he did appreciate and make use of her talents. 

Not long after they married, she humbly inquired if she might go over the Snape financial accounts and the new business acquisitions that had been part of her dowry. Severin consented, and soon she took over the bookkeeping and oversaw all the Snape business dealings. Severin supervised her carefully at first, double-checking her records and calculations, but once he saw that she was reliable and knew what she was doing, he left all such matters in her hands from then on, and even deferred to her advice on business matters.

Meanwhile, months passed by, still with no sign of an heir. Severin did not complain, but Selima could tell that he was disappointed. Adding insult to injury was the fact that Prospero's wife seemed to conceive the moment after they were married, giving birth to a son almost exactly nine months later.

"Perhaps," Selima ventured hesitantly, "I could speak to a Healer about certain herbs or potions to help me conceive..."

Severin thought it over, then shook his head. "No, not yet. I want a strong and healthy heir, and well...there is no proof, but I am worried that producing a child by artificial means could result in some hidden flaw. We have not been married long, Selima, and these things take time. My own mother did not get pregnant until she had been married to my father for almost five years. I suppose we must be patient and let nature take its course."

Selima was somewhat reassured by his words, but she still worried that his patience might eventually run out; wives had been put aside in the past for failing to bear children. There was nothing she could do to rush conception, but she did work hard to make herself indispensable to her husband in other areas, such as her handling of the finances and her skill as a hostess. In the world of pureblood politics, a dinner party was not simply an occasion to enjoy good food and company, but a carefully planned event where alliances could be made or broken. Severin knew how to play politics well enough to have obtained a job at the Ministry, but he was too blunt and stubborn to be a master of it the way his friend Lucien Malfoy was. 

But Selima, who was raised in a merchant clan where one's livelihood depended on one's ability to flatter and negotiate, could orchestrate a party with as much skill and finesse as a master composer might a symphony. She knew exactly whom to invite, and whom not to invite, carefully keeping track of who was feuding with whom, and of who was in favor with the reigning elite and who was not. She always remembered the names of her guests' spouses and children and dogs, and always remembered to inquire politely about them. She knew how to charm and flatter the high-ranking Ministry officials without being obsequious, and more importantly, without offending their wives. She knew when to whisper a compliment or a veiled threat into the right ear at just the right moment; she knew when a bribe was needed to smooth the way, and how to handle it delicately enough so that it didn't seem like a bribe. 

She also maneuvered behind the scenes with the other pureblood wives, trading gossip and information and favors, and many an important contract or promotion was set into motion by a casual comment by a wife at the dinner table or in the bedroom, at a moment when she knew her husband would be most receptive.

There were many gala affairs at Snape Manor, and before long, an invitation to one of Selima's parties became highly coveted among the pureblood elite. Severin didn't particularly enjoy these parties, but he understood their necessity, and responded with his cool but approving smile when people complimented him on what a lovely and gracious hostess his wife was. Severin's stock rose rapidly thanks to Selima's social maneuvering, and he was well aware of it.

"Your wife is a real treasure, Severin," the Minister of Magic said one night as the latest party at Snape Manor came to a close. "You are a lucky man."

"Indeed I am, Minister."

The Minister took Selima's hand and kissed her fingertips, and she modestly lowered her lashes and averted her gaze. "You are too kind, Minister."

"No, I am being perfectly honest, Lady Selima. Thank you for a wonderful dinner."

"Thank you for coming, Minister."

"Let me see you out, Minister," Severin said.

Selima was supervising the cleanup in the dining room when Severin returned with a wide grin on his face, his eyes shining triumphantly. "I've been promoted to Department Head! The Minister just told me on the way out!"

"Oh, Severin, that's wonderful!"

"And it's all thanks to you!" Severin laughed. "The way you've flattered the Minister and his cronies, and stroked their egos, all the dinners spent gradually gaining their trust and favor over the months. He flat out told me that I had my lovely wife to thank for my promotion!"

Some men might have resented that remark, but Severin did not, and it was one of his few redeeming qualities. He might not be charming, he might be brusque and even cold at times, but he acknowledged her talents, and gave respect where it was due.

"This is only the beginning, Selima," Severin said, placing his hands on her shoulders, his eyes still shining. "A stepping stone to an even higher position. Who knows, maybe one day you'll even be the wife of the Minister of Magic!"

"Lord Minister," she laughed.

"Lady Minister," he said with a grin. "I knew I chose well when I married you!" Then, to her utter shock and amazement, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

It was not one of their scheduled nights to attempt making an heir (as Selima had come to think of it), but Severin told her to leave the cleanup to Vorcher, and they took a bottle of champagne upstairs to celebrate. Their lovemaking was unusually ardent that night (for the first and last time), as for once, Severin's passion for ambition carried over into the bedroom. And ironically enough, it was then, when they weren't even trying, that they conceived an heir a few months into their second year of marriage.

Selima was relieved to have finally become pregnant, and even more relieved when the Healer told her that the child would be a boy. "Well done," Severin told her, in the same approving but slightly impersonal tone he used when praising one of her successful parties. He was busy with his new job and wasn't home much, but he hired extra servants to look after her and the house, and, gently prodded by Vanessa Malfoy, bought her a set of black pearl jewelry as a gift.

"It looks lovely, dear," Vanessa said, admiring Selima's new jewelry over tea one afternoon. "It really suits your coloring, and matches your hair and eyes."

"I know that I have you to thank," Selima said with an ironic smile. "Severin would never have been able to pick these out on his own. He usually just gives me some money and tells me to buy something nice for myself."

Vanessa laughed. "Men are hopeless at these things, dear! Some more than others. But Severin is a good husband and a good provider."

"Yes, he is," Selima said, and it was true, but she wondered why she didn't feel happier about it. Maybe it was because her closest friend Anya Gravenor had made a love-match with Cynric Diggory, and she had to watch the two of them being blissfully happy together. Still, she couldn't hate Anya, who was the one person she could truly trust and confide in. Anya was suprisingly sweet and kind for a Slytherin, and had no interest in playing politics, and had been lucky enough to fall in love with a man of wealth and good breeding who loved her too.

"Are you happy, Selima?" Anya asked anxiously one day.

"I am content," Selima replied.

"But you and Prospero--"

Selima shook her head. "No. That is over and done with. He is married now, and so am I. It was nothing more than youthful infatuation. He is handsome and charming, but such things fade over time. What would be left for us when our youthful beauty faded and our passion for each other burned out? I would have come to resent him for ruining my reputation and that of my family's, and he would have come to hate me for resenting him."

"Passion doesn't always fade," Anya said softly.

"We cannot all be as lucky as you and Cynric," Selima snapped, then gently laid her hand over Anya's when her friend looked hurt. "I thank you for your concern, Anya, but there is no point in dwelling on the past. Severin is a good man; he respects me, and he treats me as if I have a brain in my head, which is more than most pureblood wives can say."

Anya giggled. "Like Elaine?"

Selima laughed. "Well, in her case, her husband's attitude might be justified, because she is completely witless!"

After months of morning sickness and feeling bloated and ungainly as a whale, Selima finally gave birth to her son after several hours of painful labor. The midwife laid the squalling, red-faced baby in her arms, but she felt no motherly tenderness, only relief that the labor was finally over; perhaps it was simply the pain and exhaustion.

But even after she recovered, she didn't seem to feel the same way Anya did; her friend gave birth to a son of her own a few months after Severus was born, and she positively doted on little Cyril. Selima dutifully nursed her baby and picked him up when he cried, but she didn't feel the urge to hold and cuddle him for the sheer pleasure of it, the way Anya did her son. Maybe it was because he looked so much like his father, with that beak of a nose, and reminded her of the bargain she had made, trading a chance for a life like Anya's for a cool, proper, loveless marriage so that her family might make an alliance and give a bigger inheritance to her brother, an inheritance she would see nothing of, though she was just as skilled a merchant as any of the men in her family.

"It is to my advantage, too," she whispered to herself one day in the nursery. "I am the wife of a great Lord, and the mother of the Snape heir. My blood will flow through this child and his descendants to come. One day my husband might become Minister, or perhaps my son, and that is surely higher a position than being head of the Bashir clan."

If she could not be a loving mother, she resolved to be a dutiful one, and did her best to raise and educate her son, and prepare him for his role as the future Snape Lord. Severin came to her bed only rarely after Severus was born, as if it were no longer necessary now that he had his heir, and quite frankly, that was fine with Selima. He also took little interest in his son until Severus was old enough to hold an intelligent conversation, and left his early upbringing almost entirely to Selima.

Severus was a clever and for the most part obedient, if somewhat sullen, child. He learned quickly, and rarely made the same mistake twice--perhaps due to the fact that Severin punished his son's mistakes with a Cruciatus or other pain-giving curse. That was, perhaps, a harsher punishment than Selima would have chosen, but Severin was the Lord of the household and she deferred to his judgment. Maybe she would have fought him on it if she had felt the same affection for her son that Anya felt for Cyril, instead of merely a vague sense of guilt and duty.

Still, it did not seem to hurt him overmuch; Severus was quiet and respectful, and did as he was told. He was an extremely adept mage who quickly learned what his parents taught him, and progressed even further studying on his own; he was able to cast spells far beyond the level of most children his age. Selima was a little disappointed to discover that her son would never possess her skill at socializing, but she was able to teach him enough to get by in pureblood society. When he grew older, she would help smooth the way for him, as she had for his father, and someday she would find him a wife who would do the same.

He did inherit his father's temper and stubbornness, however, which manifested itself occasionally but at inopportune times, such as when he hexed a neighbor's child the year before he was due to enter Hogwarts. The child's parents raised a huge fuss, which led to a visit from the Headmaster himself. Oddly enough, Dumbledore took a liking to Severus, and stopped by often to see him. Selima and Severin were relieved that Severus would not be barred from Hogwarts, but were worried as well as flattered by the Headmaster's interest in their son; he was an extremely influential wizard, but he was also what Severin called a "bleeding heart liberal," and they didn't want their son being influenced by Dumbledore's Gryffindor ideals.

Their fears would later prove to be justified, but at first, they saw nothing to worry about. Severus made friends with the proper children in Slytherin, including Lucien and Vanessa's son, Lucius, and continued to do well in his studies. Sometimes he got into trouble for hexing the Gryffindor boys, but it seemed to be nothing more than the usual boyish mischief, and although Severin was outwardly annoyed, inwardly he was a little pleased, as it seemed proof that Severus had not been corrupted by Dumbledore's idealism.

In the meantime, Selima saw less of her friend Anya, as Cyril had developed some sort of serious illness that kept him homebound and bedridden most of the time. Then Cynric and Cyril were killed in an accident when their carriage crashed in a thunderstorm, and Anya was overwhelmed by grief and seemed to lose her will to live. When Selima saw her at the funeral, her face was ghostly white, and her eyes empty and haunted. She was taken back to her parents' estate to rest and recover, and Selima never saw her again. Anya never came to London or Snape Manor to visit, and sent only a few sporadic letters; within three years she was dead, joining her husband and son in the grave.

Selima and Severin gradually began to grow worried about their son's friendship with Lucius Malfoy and his cronies. Lucien Malfoy was a supporter of Lord Voldemort at first, but Severin refused to have anything to do with Voldemort or the Death Eaters, even at the urging of his friend and ally. While Severin would have liked to have seen the purebloods restored to their former glory, the outcome of the war was by no means certain, and he was not fool enough to risk imprisonment or execution for treason if things did not turn out as planned. 

Besides, although Voldemort said that "we purebloods" would rule, Severin suspected that there would be only one ruler, and he was not eager to trade the bureaucracy of the Ministry, inept as it was, for the tyranny of a dictator. However, mindful of the possibility that Voldemort might win in the end, neither did Severin openly support Dumbledore.

But Severus, in a rare act of rebellion, joined the Death Eaters against Severin's advice, and Selima's well-ordered life began to fall apart. Severus moved out of Snape Manor after graduation, and was drawn ever deeper into Lucius Malfoy's plots. Meanwhile, Lucien began to have second thoughts as the war escalated and grew more bloody, and privately conceded that Severin might have been right, after all. Not long after that, a mysterious plague swept through Wiltshire, where the Malfoys lived, killing many people, including Lucien and Vanessa. Lucius and his new wife were conveniently away from home at the time on their honeymoon.

Finally, Voldemort fell, and Severin disowned his son, partly to protect the Snape name, and partly out of anger that Severus had defied him. Selima urged him to wait; Severus had not been officially charged as a Death Eater, and perhaps there was still some way that they might be able to salvage the situation. Lucius Malfoy certainly smooth-talked and bribed his way out of trouble easily enough. But although he would listen to her advice on most things, in this Severin refused to be swayed, and Severus remained disinherited.

But to everyone's surprise, Severus was never charged, and Dumbledore hired him to teach at Hogwarts, in what seemed to be a demonstration of trust and faith, even giving him a position of responsibility as both Potions Master and Head of Slytherin. Severin began to regret his hasty decision, but was too proud to revoke it. Selima quietly let word spread that Severin would accept his son back into the family if Severus would come home and ask his forgiveness, but the son proved as stubborn as the father, both of them refusing to bend.

Severin and Selima tried halfheartedly to conceive a new heir, but nothing came of those efforts, and they soon gave it up. In Severin's mind, there seemed to be no point, as he had lost his influence and Ministry position, thanks to Lucius Malfoy's spite, and he refused to swallow his pride and curry favor with "that treacherous, backstabbing piece of slime". 

He retreated to Snape Manor, dismissing all the human servants, keeping only Vorcher, and settled into a life of seclusion, burying himself in his magical studies. It hurt to see the sly, gloating glances, and hear the whispers behind her back, but Selima refused to withdraw from pureblood society as her husband had. She kept up her "friendships" and her contacts, continued to have tea and socialize, holding her head high and pretending not to hear the gossip about how far the Snapes had fallen. She was laying out the foundation for a return to power, not wanting to completely burn her bridges behind her. They still had an heir, after all, even though he was disowned, and there was always a chance that he might return home...

*** 

Lady Selima pushed back her veil, then raised her glass to her lips with a trembling hand, and took a long drink of wine, knowing that she had already drunk too much, and at the same time, not enough. She had not loved Severin, and she did not exactly mourn him, but she felt hollow and empty inside. All her life, her identity had been defined by her relationship to someone else: daughter of the Bashir clan, wife of the Snape Lord...she had never been just "Selima" to anyone but Prospero and Anya, and they were both lost to her, in different ways. If she was no longer Severin's wife, she didn't really know who she was anymore.

Now that Severus was Lord Snape, Selima was technically no longer Lady Snape; that title would have gone to his wife if he'd had one, so perhaps she should be grateful that he'd chosen the werewolf as his lover. No doubt Severus would let her retain the title and keep running the estate, but only because he didn't want it, and he had the power to throw her out of the manor at any time. Of course, that would be considered dishonorable and disgraceful by his pureblood peers, but Severus had made it clear that he didn't give a damn what people thought of him. She didn't for a moment think he would really do that, but suddenly she set her glass down, buried her face in her hands, and began to cry, not knowing why she was weeping.

The door opened, and Lupin stepped into the room. "Lady Selima?" he asked softly. "Are you all right?"

She looked up, aghast, and snapped, "Don't you know how to knock, Professor?!"

Lupin closed the door behind him, smiled gently, and offered her a handkerchief. "I was going to knock, but I was afraid that you'd tell me to go away."

Selima snatched the handkerchief from him and wiped the tears from her face. "Well, you would be right!" she snapped. Oddly enough, being angry at the werewolf was making her feel a little better, or at least was helping her keep the tears at bay.

Lupin's face was filled with that same look of gentle concern he often regarded Severus and Theodore with. "Would you like me to get someone to keep you company?" he asked. "Severus is--"

"Merlin, no!" she exclaimed. Her son was the last person she wanted to find her weeping!

"Well, perhaps someone else from your family, then, your mother or brother...?"

Selima laughed harshly. "You've seen my family, Professor Lupin; can you really picture them offering comfort to anyone?"

"Er...well..." Lupin said, obviously too polite to state the truth, which was that her family looked like a cold-blooded bunch (because they were). "Your cousin Ali seems like a decent sort..."

"Ali can be charming when he wishes to be, but I don't care to cry upon his shoulder," Selima said with a small, twisted smile. "And be careful about buying anything from him; he could steal the clothes off your back and sell them to you at twice what they're worth before you realized what had happened."

Lupin laughed. "Well, I'll be more impressed with his negotiation skills if he can actually get Arthur to lift the ban on flying carpets! Though he already has a number of eager potential clients if that happens, including my own foster sons. Theo and Dylan were quite taken with the carpet in the library." Selima smiled a little, and Lupin added, "Are you sure there isn't anyone I can get? A friend, maybe..."

"I don't have any friends, Professor," Selima said bitterly. "The only real friends I ever had are dead, and the others are merely acquaintances, political allies who flatter you when you have something they want, and laugh at you behind your back when you suffer misfortune. I came here to get away from them."

"I'm sorry, Lady Selima."

The werewolf's gentle, kindly voice somehow triggered the flow of tears again. Lifting the handkerchief to her eyes, she said, "Please just go away and leave me alone, Professor."

Lupin did not leave, but instead pulled up a chair and sat next to her. Selima noticed that for all his polite words, he always ended up doing whatever he wanted, and was just as infuriatingly stubborn as Severus was--he was just a little more subtle about it. "There's no shame in crying, Lady Selima," he said quietly. "You have just laid your husband to rest today; surely you're entitled to a few tears." When Selima did not respond, he cleared his throat and said awkwardly, "You must miss him."

Selima threw back her head and laughed, bitterly and a little hysterically. "This was an arranged marriage, Professor, not one of your little Gryffindor love-matches!"

"That doesn't mean you can't miss him," Lupin said in a reasonable tone of voice. "He was a part of your life for forty years."

Selima blinked and stared at him in confusion. "I don't know if I miss him, exactly..."

"Did you love him?" Lupin asked in a conversational tone, and strangely, Selima was not offended.

"No," she instantly replied. "There were times when I didn't even like him. But..." Lupin waited patiently while she tried to sort her thoughts out. "I respected him," she finally said. "And for all his faults, he respected me. He treated me like a person instead of just some pretty trophy to show off to his friends, or a brood mare to bear his children. I'm not sure if you realize how rare that is among the pureblood elite."

"Oh, I have an idea," Lupin said softly, his eyes looking grave and thoughtful. "I saw how Narcissa always deferred to Lucius without question, and I saw how Andreas and Thaddeus treated their wives like property instead of people. And I see the way most of the Slytherin girls talk of nothing but their looks and cute boys and who their parents might marry them off to."

Selima nodded. "I had more power than most pureblood women, save for those families like the Donners and the Blackmores who pass the title down matrilineally. Severin respected my abilities and listened to my advice." She grimaced a little, thinking of how he had disowned Severus. "Well, most of the time, anyway."

"There's a saying, isn't there," Lupin said lightly, "that behind every great man is a woman?"

"Well, I'm not sure that you could call Severin a great man," Selima said with a wry smile. "Though he certainly aspired to become one--he had dreams of becoming Minister of Magic one day. I'm not sure that he ever would have achieved that goal; he wasn't as tactless as Severus is, but he wasn't very good at flattering people, and he didn't suffer fools gladly. But that was my job as his wife, you see--to flatter the proper people, to throw parties and make connections and alliances..."

"I'm sure you were very good at it," Lupin said.

Selima gave him a suspicious look, wondering if he was either patronizing or mocking her, but his face looked earnest and sympathetic. "I was," she said firmly, then sighed and threw up her hands in frustration. "But it all went to hell when Voldemort came along. Even though Voldemort fell, Lucius came to power and cast down my husband for failing to support him. He took from us our son and Severin's career."

Lupin gave her an odd look that she couldn't quite read, but there seemed to be a hint of both guilt and accusation in it. "Lucius is partly to blame for Severus joining the Death Eaters, but there were other contributing factors..."

"I suppose you probably think that one of those factors was Severin," Selima said wearily. "I know you think that Severin was a monster for cursing Severus as a child, and probably that I'm one as well for not stopping him, but...Severin was not a bad man. A hard man, but not a bad one. He was an honorable man, in his own way, perhaps not in a way that a Gryffindor would understand, but there were lines that he would not cross, things that he would not do for any amount of power or money. If he gave his word on something, he would never break it. Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, Professor, but not many of his peers can say the same."

"I believe you," Lupin said quietly. "I don't condone what he did, but I believe you. Albus said much the same thing earlier today, didn't he? That he respected Lord Severin even if he didn't always agree with him, because he held fast to his own code of honor."

"Yes," Selima whispered, and the tears began to spill out of her eyes again. Lupin reached out, then abruptly stopped, his hand hovering in the air over her shoulder, an almost helpless expression on his face as he correctly realized that Selima would not want a comforting touch or embrace from him. Lupin let his hand fall back to his side, and Selima swiped at her eyes impatiently with the handkerchief.

"I'm not weeping for Severin," she said crossly. "I'm feeling sorry for myself, because a pureblood woman's power lies in her husband, and now I have no husband, and hence, no true power of my own. I have nothing." She couldn't seem to stop crying, and she shouted at Lupin, "Will you go away, Professor, and leave me alone?!"

Predictably, Lupin ignored her. "It's not true that you have nothing, Lady Selima," he said gently. "You have Severus and Theodore."

She shook her head, laughing mirthlessly as the tears continued to stream down her face. "I am a stranger to Theodore; he cares nothing for me. And Severus hates me. I suppose I can't really blame him."

"Severus's feelings are a little more complicated than simple hate," Lupin said solemnly. "We hate most those whom we love best, when we believe that they have betrayed us."

"I suppose your simple Gryffindor mind can't quite grasp the concept," Selima said waspishly, "but Severus doesn't love me. People don't necessarily love each other just because they are kin, you know."

"Do you love Severus?" Lupin asked quietly, and Selima just stared at him in shock. "Did you ever, when he was a child?" he persisted, gently but determinedly, staring directly into her eyes, not accusingly, but intently, as if he very much wanted to know the answer.

Instead of telling him to mind his own business, she found herself whispering, "I...I don't know. Love is not a common commodity among the Slytherin elite. I...gave up on love when I married Severin. I had to, in order to do my duty. I tried to feel...nothing." Lupin's expression softened a little, and his face filled with compassion, and like a dam breaking, all the pain she had repressed for the past four decades came pouring out along with her tears. 

"Maybe that is why...I had nothing left for Severus," she gasped between sobs. "I couldn't be a loving mother to him...but I tried...I tried to be a good mother. I taught him all I could, of magic and politics and etiquette. I taught him what I thought he needed to know in order to survive and advance in pureblood society. Maybe it wasn't enough...but I did the best that I could. I did my best..." 

Her voice trailed off, and she sat there sobbing hysterically and not really knowing who she was weeping for--Severin, Severus, or herself...the widow who had lost her husband and her identity, or the young girl who had given up her dreams to do her duty. All of them, perhaps. 

"I believe you," Lupin said, then hesitantly reached out and laid his hand over hers, and she let him. That was all he did; he didn't try to embrace her, or even clasp her hand, but that light touch seemed to serve as an anchor that kept her from being swept away. After several minutes, she finally stopped weeping, and Lupin pulled his hand away as she wiped her face with the handkerchief, which was by now getting a little soggy. 

Lupin pushed the wineglass towards her, but she shook her head. "Something a little stronger, I think," she said. "Severin keeps some cognac in that cupboard over there."

Lupin retrieved the expensive bottle of cognac, and poured out two glasses. Selima knew that Severin would have had a fit if he could see the werewolf drinking his good liquor, but at this moment, she didn't particularly care. She lifted her glass in an ironic toast, and Lupin clinked his glass against hers. Lupin took a sip and raised his eyebrows. "My, Lord Severin certainly had very discriminating tastes, at least in liquor."

"Indeed," Selima said. By the time they both finished their second glass, Selima was feeling almost mellow, but it was difficult to tell if the werewolf had been affected by the alcohol, as he wore that same gentle, serene smile on his face that he always did. "By the way, Professor," Selima said in a conversational tone, "if you ever repeat what I told you here today, I'll kill you."

"You'll have to get in line behind Severus," Lupin told her, still smiling. "He's promised to turn me into a wolfskin rug I don't know how many times. Lukas occasionally wants a piece of my hide, too."

"Lukas?" Selima asked.

Lupin looked chagrined; that had obviously slipped out without his meaning to say it--perhaps the cognac had affected him, after all. "Ah, Lukas Bleddri, a fellow werewolf and teacher at Hogwarts."

"Oh yes," Selima said in a bored tone, and Lupin looked relieved. "I think I read something about him in the Daily Prophet."

Lupin changed the subject. "It's not my place to repeat what you told me," he said, his face serious now. "Because I think you need to say those things to Severus yourself."

Selima shook her head. "What for? It's at least twenty or thirty years too late for any apologies or explanations. Severus hates me; I can't change that. I'm just satisfied that he's returned home to assume the Lordship and do his duty, in a manner of speaking."

"Damn it, Selima!" Lupin snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk, and Selima stared at him in surprise. It was the first time he had ever raised his voice to her, and the first time he had ever dropped the polite preface "Lady" before her name. "It's too late for Severin to mend things with his son because he's dead, but it's not too late for you! Severus has returned home, however reluctantly, and you have a second chance--do you have any idea how rare an opportunity that is?"

"It's been too long," Selima protested, still feeling stunned. "Too much time has passed, too many grudges and years of animosity. And I don't know how to be a loving mother, Professor. I'm not sure I could change even if I wanted to, and I'm not sure that I want to."

"Damn it," Lupin repeated, looking frustrated. "It's too late to forge the kind of close relationship the Weasleys have with their children," he said bluntly. "That needs to be built up over a lifetime. But you have a chance to at least build something more than what you have now, something more than bare tolerance and grudging adherence to duty. And while you may be a stranger to Theodore, at least that means you have the chance to start off with a clean slate." Lupin's lips formed a bitter smile that was better suited to Severus's face. "And Theo's biological family was so horrible that you and Severin look almost good by comparison--a somewhat dubious honor, but you might as well take advantage of it. He respects you, a little--let that grow into something more. He is your grandson, Selima, by your own choice. Be a grandmother to him in truth as well as name."

"Well, you Gryffindors are certainly given to self-righteous speeches," Selima replied, trying for an indignant tone, but it came out a little shaky. 

Lupin leaned in close and said to her softly, "You and Severus are the same. You've built up walls around yourselves to keep everyone at bay and keep from being hurt. The only problem is, it starts to get a bit lonely in there after awhile, doesn't it?"

"You have no right to speak to me this way," Selima whispered.

"Tearing down those walls is the hardest thing Severus has ever done," Lupin persisted. "It's not easy, and the work still isn't complete, and maybe it never will be, but at least he's trying. I built a few walls of my own, and I know how scary it can be to risk letting someone else inside--"

"I am not afraid!" Selima snapped.

Lupin smiled, looking almost smug. "Then prove it," he said. "Match your son's bravery."

Selima realized that Lupin was using her pureblood pride to trap her, and she was furious, yet at the same time felt a bit of grudging respect for him. It was an almost Slytherin bit of manipulation. "I need prove nothing to you! I owe you nothing, werewolf!"

"No, you don't," Lupin agreed. "You owe it to Severus."

"I am not capable of loving anyone!" Selima protested, feeling almost panicky; damn the werewolf for making her feel this way! "Whatever capacity I had for love was burned out decades ago!"

"I don't believe that's true, Selima," Lupin said quietly.

"I didn't give you permission to use my name!"

"I didn't ask," Lupin said calmly.

Selima stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh, a little hysterically. "I can't believe that time and again, I have been outmaneuvered by a werewolf! You would have made a good merchant, Lupin!"

"I'm very stubborn," Lupin said with a smile, "and quite annoying, or so I am often told."

"I don't know how," Selima said helplessly. "I don't know where to start."

"Well, you can't do it all at once," Lupin said practically. "I think we're both agreed that Severus might have a stroke if you suddenly tried to smother him with hugs and kisses." Selima snorted, in a very unladylike manner, and Lupin smiled. "You need to start off slowly, I think, with small gestures." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, you've both made a good start." Selima gave him a puzzled look, and he explained, "You agreed, however grudgingly, to accept me and Theodore and Dylan as part of Severus's life; you agreed to accept Theodore as the Snape heir even though he is not of your blood. For Severus's part, he returned home when you asked him to. I'm not sure you understand how hard it was for him, not just to come back, but to spend the weekend here and sleep under this roof once again. This house holds many painful memories for him." 

He said it matter-of-factly, not accusingly, but Selima still found herself flushing. Then Lupin smiled and said softly, "But it holds a few good memories for him now, too, because he is now a father, and the boys are here with him. Continue as you have been doing, Lady Selima, and try to build on that gradually. You could invite us to tea again, for example, and discuss the Snape histories with Theodore; he seems to enjoy them. You could take Theo to see some of the businesses the Snape family owns, as you suggested during an earlier visit. It would probably gain you some points with Severus if you invited Dylan, too. You could come see Theo and Dylan play Quidditch in their upcoming match next month."

"I'll...try," Selima said hesitantly. In the end, it was not so much duty or guilt or some hidden streak of Gryffindorish sentimentality that made her give in, but simply the fear of being alone, left in this huge mansion with no company but an elderly house-elf. Selima, who had always believed herself to be independent and self-reliant, was chagrined to discover this unexpected weakness, but could no longer deny that it was there.

There was a knock at the door. "Mother?" Severus called. "Are you in here?"

"Severus?" Selima said, startled, and her son took that as permission to enter.

He stared at her, looking shocked and even a little concerned. "Are you all right, Mother?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

Selima suddenly realized that she must be quite a sight--red eyes, tear-stained face, and smudged make-up. "I'm fine, Severus," she said in a cool voice.

He stared at her suspiciously. "Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can ask Madam Pomfrey to take a look at you--"

"I'm fine, Severus," she repeated firmly, feeling strangely touched and a little hopeful that he sounded so concerned. She wondered if she'd been spending too much time with the werewolf; perhaps Gryffindor sentimentality was contagious.

"And what are you doing here, Lupin?" Severus asked his lover, still looking suspicious.

Lupin shrugged. "I'm not used to formal gatherings like these; I just wanted to get away from the crowd for a little bit, and so did Lady Selima. We were just talking and--" He smiled and held up his empty glass. "--sharing some of Lord Severin's cognac."

Lupin's response didn't do anything to ease Severus's suspicions. "Well," he said, looking back and forth from Lupin to Selima, "you've both been gone for awhile, and the guests are starting to ask where you are, Mother."

"I had a headache," Selima said. "I just needed to rest for a bit."

"Surely a new widow is entitled to a little privacy if she wants," Lupin interjected.

"It was Mother who reminded me many times today," Severus said sarcastically, "that we have a duty to our guests." Lupin glared at him, and he added, "But if you're really not feeling well, Mother, I'll make your excuses. I can't say that I would be sorry to see this party come to an end."

"No," Selima said quickly, rising to her feet. "I'm fine now. Let me go freshen up, and I'll be out in a few minutes."

"All right," Severus said, still looking rather confused. "I'd better get back; I've left Theodore in the ballroom as the sole Snape representative. Are you coming, Lupin?"

"Yes," Lupin said cheerfully. "Come, let's go rescue poor Theodore."

Selima went to the bathroom, and when she looked into the mirror, she saw that she did indeed look a fright--no wonder Severus had been worried! She washed her face, but didn't bother reapplying any makeup, pulling the veil down over her face to disguise her still-red eyes and lack of cosmetics. If people thought she looked a little pale, well, she was a grieving widow, after all.

She returned to the reception, assuring her guests that she was fine, and had only needed to rest for a few minutes. Despite Severus's concerns, Theodore seemed to be holding his own, but then, he had been trained as a pureblood heir even before he became a part of the Snape family. Priscilla Parkinson was sending some thinly-veiled barbs Theodore's way as her granddaughter Pansy shot her annoyed looks in return.

"It's a pity that you had to give up the Nott estate, Theodore, but I suppose it's just as well. Becoming a Snape is a step up, and it's best not to be tainted by association with the Death Eaters..."

"Grandmother!" Pansy snapped.

"What, dear?" Priscilla asked innocently. "I am only stating a fact..."

Theodore's face remained calm and bland as he replied, "No, it's fine, Pansy. It is a pity that Thaddeus and Marta Nott--" Selima noticed that he carefully avoided calling them his parents, which would have been a social blunder, as it would imply that he still considered himself a Nott instead of a Snape. "--were misled by false promises into making unwise choices, but so were many others." He paused to take a sip from his glass--water, not wine--while Priscilla's face turned a little red at that subtle reminder that her family had also fallen prey to Lucius Malfoy's blandishments, even though they had not joined the Death Eaters. "But I am sure that Terrence will be a good caretaker of the Nott estate," Theodore finished, smiling at Priscilla politely.

Lupin was standing nearby talking with one of the Hogwarts teachers, but Selima could see that he was keeping an eye on Theodore, and was probably ready to intervene if things got heated. Clearly that wasn't going to be necessary, though, and Lupin had an amused smile on his face. From across the room, Severus was scowling and casting suspicious glances in the Parkinsons' direction as he tried to extricate himself from a conversation with the Baddocks.

As Priscilla pouted (which looked ridiculous in a woman her age), obviously annoyed that Theodore hadn't risen to her baiting, Selima glided over and said, "You were just a little girl when I saw you last, Pansy--what a lovely young woman you have grown into. Don't you think so, Theodore?"

"Yes, Grandmother," he replied politely.

"Thank you, Lady Selima," Pansy said. "Are you feeling better? Grandmother said you weren't feeling well."

"I am very well, thank you. I just needed to rest for a little while." Selima laid a hand on her grandson's arm. "Your father is looking cranky, Theodore," she said lightly. "Come, let us rescue the Baddocks from him before he loses his temper. Please excuse us, Priscilla, Pansy." As she led Theodore away from the Parkinsons, she whispered, "Well done."

Theodore smiled; it made him look younger and more vulnerable than he normally appeared. "Thank you, Grandmother. Are you really all right? The Prof--I mean, Father was worried about you."

"I'm fine," Selima assured him. They joined Severus, who looked relieved to be rescued from more meaningless polite chitchat, and the Baddock children looked relieved to rescued from their irate Potions Master, although their father was a little reluctant to end the conversation, as he was trying to get Severus to see that Malcolm got some playing time in Slytherin's upcoming Quidditch match.

"Dad, please!" a nervous and embarrassed Malcolm protested.

"You'll have to talk to Draco about it," Severus said impatiently. "He's the team captain."

"Please excuse us," Selima said sweetly. "I need to borrow my son for a moment."

"What do you need, Mother?" Severus asked as they walked away. 

"For you not to kill Mr. Baddock," Selima said dryly, and Severus actually laughed, a curt and harsh, but genuinely amused sound.

"I need a drink," he sighed, and signaled to one of the house-elves.

Much later, after all the guests were gone, Selima, Severus, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore almost literally collapsed in the drawing room with exhaustion.

"Thank Merlin!" Severus said fervently. "I thought this day would never end! I swear there would have been blood spilled if I had to thank someone for their sympathies one more time, or listen to one more of Priscilla Parkinson's snide little comments..."

"She does seem to be a little...er...catty," Lupin said, with his usual polite understatement.

"She's a bitch," Selima said bluntly, taking a sip from her glass of wine. "Always has been."

Lupin stared at her in shock, and Severus asked, "Just how much have you had to drink, Mother?"

"No more than you, Severus," Selima replied.

"That's not saying much," Lupin pointed out, "considering that I've lost track of how many glasses of wine Severus had."

"I needed those in order to get through the day without using an Unforgivable Curse on one or more of the guests," Severus protested, and the boys laughed a little. "So what did the bitch--"

"Severus!" Lupin snapped.

Severus grinned. "Excuse me, I mean, what did Priscilla say to you earlier, Theodore?"

"How lucky I was to be a Snape since the Notts were tainted by association with the Death Eaters," Theodore replied.

Severus scowled. "I take it back, she is a bitch!"

"It's all right," Theodore said calmly. "She's nothing compared to the Death Eaters; you should have heard the way they used to talk about each other behind their backs...well, actually, I guess you would know about that. And she's all talk--it's not as if she's going to back it up with a Cruciatus Curse or something." Selima saw Lupin smile at the boy sadly, and remembered what he had said in the study, that she and Severin looked good in comparison to Theodore's real parents. She supposed that Priscilla probably seemed annoying but harmless to a boy who had lived among the Death Eaters all his life.

"Theodore handled her perfectly," Selima assured her son. "He managed to be polite, yet put her in her place at the same time." She turned to Theodore. "You did well today, child; you conducted yourself as a proper Snape heir should." Theodore smiled proudly, and Severus gave his mother a thoughtful look. Selima recalled Lupin's advice, to reach out to her son with small gestures, and said, "Thank you, Severus."

"For what?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"For coming to the funeral and going through with the ceremony and reception." She gave him a wry smile. "And for keeping your temper under control and not telling Priscilla or any of the other guests to go to hell."

"I did not want to return home and resume my role as heir," Severus said stiffly. "But I agreed to, so that Theodore might have an inheritance, and I will stand by my word and do my duty as a Snape."

Selima felt a twinge of bitter amusement at having her own words thrown back in her face, although Severus was not aware of what she had discussed with Lupin. She sighed wearily and said, "You are more like your father than you know, Severus."

Her son scowled and said, "There's no need to be insulting, Mother."

"It wasn't meant as an insult, Severus," Selima snapped. "Your father had his faults, but he was always a man of his word." She saw Lupin glaring at Severus, then said with a small smile, "But we had better stop arguing, or Professor Lupin will be cross with us."

Lupin laughed, and Severus regarded his lover and mother warily. "The two of you are starting to worry me," he muttered.

Vorcher entered the room and bowed. "Everything has been cleaned up, and the Hogwarts elves have gone back to the school, Mistress."

"Good work, Vorcher," Selima said, and the house-elf sniffled and rubbed at his eyes.

"Vorcher misses Master," the house-elf whimpered, as Severus stared at it, a combination of incredulity and distaste on his face. "But," Vorcher continued wistfully, "it was a grand funeral, with many important people. Surely Master would be proud."

"I'm sure he would be, Vorcher," Lupin said gently.

Vorcher sniffled a little more, then seemed to pull himself together. "Will Master Severus and Master Theodore and their friends be staying for dinner?"

"All Master Severus wants to do right now is sleep," Severus groaned.

"We should all get some rest," Selima agreed. "It's been a long day. Prepare something light, Vorcher, that can be kept cold. I'm not sure what time we'll be eating." Or if they would be eating; although Selima had eaten little during the day, she was not at all hungry, and felt as if she could sleep straight through till tomorrow evening.

"Yes, Mistress."

Severus frowned. "I told the Headmaster that I would resume classes tomorrow. Perhaps we should go back to the school now..."

Although the mansion had been much too big for just her and Severin, the space and solitude had never bothered Selima before, but suddenly, the house seemed bleak and empty with her husband gone. Which was odd, because she had never loved him, and they had essentially lived separate lives throughout most of their marriage. But once again she felt that unfamiliar and unwelcome pang of fear that had manifested earlier in the study with Lupin. "Everyone is tired, Severus," she said, trying to keep her voice cool and brisk. "Just stay here tonight; you can go back tomorrow morning."

"The Headmaster told you to take as much time off as you needed, Severus," Lupin said sternly.

"But Lupin--" Severus protested.

"Besides," Lupin said cheerfully, "I'm not sure you'll be in any condition to teach tomorrow morning, considering how much you've had to drink today. You might as well take tomorrow off; you can go back and terrorize your Potions students on Tuesday. And you might want to brew some hangover remedy before you go to bed."

Severus groaned, and the boys laughed. Although they looked tired as well, they seemed to be in better shape than the adults, probably because they hadn't been allowed to drink any alcohol at the reception. Severus must have been tired, because he gave in without further argument. "All right," he said. "I'll send Dumbledore a message that we're taking one more day off."

"I'll send it, Professor," Dylan volunteered. "If I can borrow Socrates, that is." Selima nodded. 

"Thank you, Dylan," Severus said wearily. "I'm going to bed now, then." He left the room with Lupin, and Vorcher scurried off to the kitchen. Selima doubted that anyone but the boys would be hungry--or even awake--when dinnertime arrived, and they could simply have fended for themselves and eaten leftovers from the reception, but it was probably best to keep Vorcher busy. Often house-elves fell to pieces and became useless when their Masters died, usually temporarily, but it could become permanent if one wasn't careful; it was just as well that there was no butterbeer in the house. But keeping Vorcher busy and reminding him of his duty to the surviving Snape family members should keep him out of trouble.

Selima got up to head to her own bed, but Dylan called out, "Excuse me, Lady Selima, but I was wondering if it would be all right if Theo and I used Lord Severin's workshop to brew a potion."

"What potion?" Selima asked.

"I think that Remus was only joking when he said that the Professor should brew a hangover potion, but, well..." Dylan smiled mischievously. "I think he really might need one when he wakes up. I've never seen him drink so much before, not even at the Yule Ball, when he made it clear that it was the last place he wanted to be."

Selima noticed that Dylan politely refrained from mentioning how much she had drunk today, which was probably at least equal to whatever Severus had consumed, if not more. "Actually," she said with a cool smile, "everyone was quite civil today, considering how much alcohol was flowing amongst all the guests. When the dowager Lady Bletchley died a few years back, one of the Bletchley cousins got drunk, then picked a fight with his brother and turned him into a toad. A fluorescent green toad with pink spots; he slurred the incantation and inadvertently altered the spell, which in addition to the unusual color, made the hex rather difficult to remove. Even after poor Henry was restored to human form, it still took the spots--and the urge to snap at passing flies--about a week to fade."

The boys laughed. "So, can we use the workshop?" Dylan asked again.

"You may," Selima said, "but Severin hasn't used it for quite some time, and I'm not sure what ingredients are still there."

"The Professor showed us the workshop when he was giving us a tour of the house the first time we came over for dinner," Dylan replied. "It still seems to have the basic potion ingredients we'll need, and if we're missing anything, I can ask one of my friends at Hogwarts to owl it to me."

"Then feel free to use the workshop," Selima told him. "It's very considerate of you; I'm sure that Severus will appreciate your efforts." She smiled ruefully. "It's possible that I might, too."

Dylan smiled, but just said politely, "Then we'll send the Professor's message to Hogwarts and get to work."

Selima watched them leave, feeling a little bemused. Up until now, she had regarded the Rosier boy's presence as a necessary inconvenience, but he was always polite and well-spoken, and she had to admit that he had inherited Evan's considerable charm. Severus and Lupin treated Theodore and Dylan as if they were real brothers, and the boys certainly behaved as though they were, and Selima suddenly had the odd thought that she seemed to have acquired two grandsons for the price of one. Then she shook her head; her thoughts were being muddled by fatigue and alcohol and stress. She decided to go upstairs and get some rest, and sort out her complicated family relationships later.

*** 

As Snape started to undress for bed, Lupin caught sight of the signet ring on his hand, and gently grasped Snape's hand and examined the ring. It was a heavy, ornate gold ring carved with the Snape family crest of a serpent curved into an "S" shape.

Snape looked down at the ring, a weary look on his face. "I never thought I'd be wearing this one day," he said softly.

Lupin kissed Snape's hand, then released it. He bowed in an exaggeratedly courtly manner and said, "Lord Snape."

Snape found his gloomy mood lifting a little. "Then will you play Lady Snape, Lupin?" he asked with a smile. "And throw tea parties for the wives of the pureblood elite?"

"No, I think I will leave that to your mother!" Lupin laughed.

"Speaking of my mother, Lupin, what were the two of you talking about in the study?" Snape asked.

Lupin hesitated. "I sort of promised that I wouldn't tell you."

"That probably means you were talking about me," Snape said, his lips forming something that was halfway between a smile and a grimace.

"Not just you, Severus," Lupin said, his face serious and a little worried now. "I don't know if it was the stress or the cognac, but Lady Selima let down her guard a little, and talked to me about your father and her marriage."

"The thought of you and my mother having a cozy heart-to-heart chat is a little scary, Lupin," Snape said sardonically.

Lupin smiled, but it didn't really reach his eyes. "She didn't really tell me much, Severus," he said quietly, "but from what little she did say, I get the impression that she's had a difficult life. Think what it must have been like for her, an eighteen year old girl, coming to live with a complete stranger twice her age. And even in his younger days, I doubt that Lord Severin was easy to get along with."

Snape just grunted; Lupin had said something similar after their first visit together to Snape Manor, and the logical part of Snape's mind knew that he was right. However, it was difficult to picture his cool, imperious mother as a young girl, nervous and unhappy about going into an arranged marriage with a much older man. And having resented her for almost his entire life, it was even more difficult to let go of his animosity, although he knew that he was probably being petty. He didn't want to be objective about it, because that might mean that he would have to feel sorry for her, and he didn't want to feel sorry for his mother; he wanted to continue hating her.

"When I went after her," Lupin continued, "I knew that she didn't really want my company, so I asked if there was someone she would like to stay with her...a family member, a friend. But there was no one she could think of that she wanted to comfort her. She laughed in my face when I asked her if she wanted me to get her mother or brother, and when I asked her if she would prefer to have a friend stay with her, do you know what she told me? That she had none. That she had no real friends, only political allies. That seems like a very lonely life to me, Severus." Snape remained silent, and Lupin said softly, "You and I know better than anyone what it's like to be lonely."

"You want me to forgive her," Snape said in a flat voice, crossing his arms over his chest, a stubborn expression on his face. "But I don't think that my mother wants my forgiveness; she doesn't believe that she has done anything wrong." A troubled, almost torn look passed across Lupin's face, and Snape exclaimed, "Merlin's Beard, Lupin! What on earth did my mother say to you?" Surely Lady Selima could not have been talking to Lupin about loneliness and forgiveness...could she?

Lupin hesitated for a long moment. "Perhaps you should ask your mother that," he finally said. "If you want to talk about forgiveness, or lack thereof, you should be talking to her directly, anyway."

"I don't want to talk to her about anything!" Snape said grumpily. "You're the one who brought it up."

"You came home, Severus," Lupin said, clasping Snape's hand again, and--not so incidentally--the Snape signet ring.

"Only for Theodore's sake," Snape said.

Lupin sighed, in that very familiar long-suffering way of his, then said patiently. "She has made an effort, you know. She's accepted me and Dylan as part of your life, included us in the invitations--"

"Only because she knows I won't come here without you," Snape muttered.

Lupin's vast store of patience seemed to be running out. "Severus Snape!" he said irritably. "I know that she has done so only grudgingly, and that she hasn't been very gracious about it, but do you really think that it was easy for your mother to welcome a werewolf into her home? Your oh-so-proper mother, who is the very epitome of a pureblood snob?"

Snape gave Lupin a puzzled look, and something suddenly dawned on him. "You like my mother, don't you?"

Lupin smiled, his eyes filled with affection and a hint of mischief. He slipped his arms around Snape and nuzzled his neck, saying, "I have a soft spot for arrogant, ill-tempered Slytherins." Snape laughed a little and pulled Lupin closer, holding him tightly; after this very long and trying day, it felt good to hold to hold Lupin in his arms. "But seriously," Lupin said, "I don't know if I can say that I like her exactly, but I admire your mother. It seems to me that she has survived things that would have broken a weaker person. Although..." Lupin smiled sadly. "I suspect she has unseen scars, as do you and I, Severus." Snape sighed, not quite ready to give in yet, but too tired to argue with Lupin. "And I like her a little better after watching her today. She stood up for Narcissa when those horrible women were sneering at her and making nasty comments--"

"Whatever happened to being fair, Lupin?" Snape interjected with a touch of sarcastic humor. "Maybe those horrible women had terrible childhoods or were forced into unhappy marriages, too."

"Shush," Lupin scolded, laying a finger across Snape's lips. "Don't interrupt. Besides, those women aren't my lover's mother, and there is a limit to even my Gryffindorish good nature." 

Snape grinned. "Glad to hear it, Lupin."

"Shush," Lupin repeated, kissing Snape lightly on the mouth. "Now where was I? Oh yes, I saw Selima stand up for Narcissa and rescue her from those vultures. And I saw her smile at Theodore, when he put Priscilla Parkinson in her place. She even praised him, didn't she? She said that he had done well and behaved like a proper heir."

"Yes," Snape said slowly. Rescuing Narcissa like that was extremely out of character for his mother; the way she had smiled at and praised Theodore was less so, but it was still unusual for Lady Selima's icy attitude to thaw even that much. "Perhaps it was the alcohol; I've never seen my mother drink that much before. She didn't seem drunk, but then again, I've never seen her inebriated, so I wouldn't know what to expect."

"Your mother wasn't drunk, Severus," Lupin told him, then smiled. "At least, no more so than you. Although possibly the alcohol, in combination with the stress, might have lowered her inhibitions a little."

Snape was a little more inclined to, if not forgive, at least regard his mother with less hostility so long as she treated Theodore well, but he was too tired to organize his thoughts coherently. "Can we talk about this later, Lupin? I'm exhausted, and I can't think straight."

"Of course, love," Lupin said gently, looking a little guilty. They undressed and climbed into bed, and Snape almost immediately fell into a deep slumber, wrapped in Lupin's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The R.A. continues to plot against the Slytherins, leading to danger at the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match; also, Snape's mother reveals Lukas Bleddri's true identity.

Snape and Selima slept straight through the afternoon into the night, although Lupin woke up in the evening and joined the boys for a light supper in the kitchen. Vorcher was still in a melancholy mood, and was more verbose than usual; without Selima or Snape there to stop him, he recounted tales of Lord Severin's glory days, when he had still had worked at the Ministry and there were many gala parties thrown at Snape Manor or the London townhouse.

"Everyone who was anyone came to the parties," Vorcher said with a wistful, nostalgic air. "All the important people in the wizarding world, even the Minister of Magic himself! The house was always empty and quiet when the Master lived alone, but that changed after Master married the Mistress. Then there were lots of dinners and parties, and people laughing and talking." Vorcher sighed. "The Mistress was so beautiful and elegant and charming; everyone said Master was lucky to have Mistress as a wife. Master often said he chose well when he married Mistress."

Vorcher continued, talking about how Severin had steadily risen in rank at the Ministry, and of how the Snapes' wealth and influence had increased after Severin's marriage to Selima. Lupin and the boys were also a little surprised to learn that Severin had been a scholar whose hobby was collecting and reading old spellbooks, and had enjoyed experimenting with and re-creating long-forgotten spells and potions in his free time--of which he'd had too little when he was working at the Ministry, and then too much when he was forced to retire.

"So, Severus shared at least one thing with his father...a love of knowledge," Lupin murmured thoughtfully.

"Then he should have been proud of the Professor when he became a Potions Master and teacher," Dylan said, sounding confused and a little offended.

Theodore shook his head. "No, among the pureblood elite, power is everything. If Lord Severin set aside his love of knowledge to pursue a political career, he would expect his son to do the same. A pureblood heir is always supposed to do what is necessary to strengthen his family's influence and advance their position in society."

"Duty over love," Lupin said sadly. 

"Always," Theodore said solemnly.

"Not anymore," Lupin said firmly. "Not in this family."

"What's the point of being powerful if you're miserable?" Dylan wanted to know. "What's the point of having an important Ministry job if you'd rather be doing something else, or of marrying someone you dislike when there's someone else that you really love?"

"Most of the Death Eaters loved power more than they loved any person," Theodore said.

Vorcher frowned disapprovingly. "Upholding the family honor is more important than anything else!" he declared.

"I will do my best to be a good son to my father," Theodore said placatingly, which was not quite the same thing as promising to uphold the family honor, but Vorcher seemed mollified.

The next morning, as Lupin predicted, Snape woke up with a hangover. "I haven't felt this bad since Evan and Lyall spiked the punch at the Halloween feast back in fourth year!" he groaned as he stumbled down to breakfast, looking more pale and sallow than usual.

Lady Selima seemed to be suffering just as much, although she did it more quietly. She was immaculately dressed, as always, and her hair neatly combed, while Snape was looking a bit more rumpled than usual. The only signs of discomfort she showed were a slight paleness in her face, and the way she winced and rubbed her temples when Snape complained loudly. "Will you please lower your voice, Severus?" she asked irritably.

Dylan smiled and offered them the hangover potion, and both mother and son thanked him and gratefully drank it down.

"Remind me to give ten points to Slytherin when we get back to school," Snape muttered, the pained expression on his face easing slightly.

"Twenty," Selima sighed in relief, leaning back in her chair and sipping cautiously at a cup of weak tea, and Lupin ducked his head to hide his grin.

The hangover potion was not a complete cure-all, so Selima and Snape spent most of the day resting, while Dylan and Theo got caught up on their homework. Lupin watched over them, sipping a cup of tea and smiling contentedly. He felt a little bad for feeling so happy when Severin had just died, but he loved these little moments of time spent with his family, playing cards with the boys or watching them study. Most people would probably find them ordinary and mundane, but that was precisely why Lupin loved them so much--because he had never expected to have the sort of ordinary life most people took for granted. Then he chuckled a little, realizing that most people would hardly consider his family "ordinary"!

By teatime, Selima and Snape were feeling better, and came down to get something to eat, although they were both still rather subdued. They passed the rest of the day quietly, helping Selima write thank-you cards to all the people who had come to the funeral and/or sent them sympathy cards and flowers.

"I don't see why we have to thank people like Priscilla Parkinson for coming to sneer at and insult us," Snape grumbled.

"Because it's the polite thing to do, Severus," Selima snapped. "And because people will talk if we don't."

Snape snorted derisively. "Politeness is highly overrated, Mother. Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"You could at least write thank-you cards to the Hogwarts staff and students," Lupin interrupted, before an argument could get started between son and mother. "Their condolences were sincere, at least, and you should thank them personally, since they came or sent flowers for your sake."

"Fine," Snape sighed, picking up a quill. It was, as he had once pointed out to Dylan and Theodore, usually easier to give in to the werewolf than waste time arguing with him.

They ate dinner at Snape Manor that evening, then prepared to return to the school. "Will you be all right?" Lupin asked Selima anxiously.

"I'll be fine, Professor," Selima said in a cool voice, but she flushed a little, looking embarrassed at his concern. "I don't need anyone to baby-sit me."

Lupin discreetly kicked Snape in the shin, and Snape winced and said, "Contact us if you need anything, Mother."

"Thank you, Severus, but I'll be fine." Selima hesitated for a moment, then added, "But perhaps you'd like to come for tea this weekend? I should go over some of the family finances with you and Theodore now that your father is dead. You are the Snape Lord now, Severus, and you should take an interest in your responsibilities."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said in a resigned voice, and Lupin, who had been about to kick him a second time, placed his foot back on the floor and smiled.

*** 

They were welcomed back warmly by most of the other staff members, and Snape had to endure another round of condolences. Dumbledore just patted him on the shoulder and said, "It's good to have you back."

Lukas stopped by their quarters, carrying a wire cage containing Lupin's pet rat, and Lupin thanked him for looking after Kiseki.

"I think your little friend must be happy to see you," Lukas told him. "He doesn't like me very much; he probably senses that I'm a predator." He grinned down at the rat, his lips pulling back to expose his sharp canine teeth, and Kiseki let out an agitated, high-pitched squeak as he ran in frantic circles around his cage. "Of course, a little thing like this would only be a mouthful for me..."

Lupin snatched the cage from him and cradled it against his chest protectively. "Really, Lukas!" he said indignantly. "There's no need to frighten a harmless animal!"

Lukas and Snape both laughed. "But Lupin's a predator, too," Snape pointed out. 

Lukas snorted. "Lupin's about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit."

"Hey!" Lupin protested indignantly.

"Providing that nothing is threatening his mate or cubs," Lukas clarified.

Snape grinned. "It figures that even a rat can tell that you're a soft touch, Lupin!"

"Hmmph!" Lupin said, lifting the rat out of the cage and stroking it. "And who was it that told Dylan and Theo that it's easier to just give in when the werewolf has his mind set on something?" Snape's face turned red as Lukas snickered, and Lupin added, "And I seem to recall a certain someone enjoying being scratched behind the ears during the full moon last month..." Lukas turned red as well, and the three of them stood there glaring at each other until Lupin suddenly burst into laughter. Snape and Lukas scowled at him a moment longer, then they began laughing, too.

*** 

Life returned to normal as Snape resumed his classes on Tuesday; he was so glad to escape Snape Manor that he was almost happy to see even his Gryffindor students. In an attempt to ward off any more expressions of sympathy, he greeted all of his classes with a sharp, "Well, I hope you all enjoyed your little vacation, and I hope that you used some of the time to study, because you're about to be tested! Take out your quills and put away your books."

There were a few groans, but no more so than usual, and a few students who had not attended the funeral still had enough nerve to cautiously approach him after class to offer their condolences, including both Mr. and Miss Zabini, Miss Patil, Miss Brown, and--somewhat to his surprise--Luna Lovegood. She solemnly told him that she was sorry about his father, with that ever-present dreamy, faraway look in her eyes, then added in an almost conversational tone, "But you'll see him again someday, I'm sure. The dead are never truly gone; I heard their voices behind the Veil, you know."

"Uh...right," Snape said. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood, you may go now." 

She obediently trotted off and Snape shook his head. He had long suspected that the girl was not playing with a full deck, so to speak, and had been reluctant to accept her into his Advanced Potions class even though she got a high grade on her O.W.L. Yet despite her dreamy manner, she managed to mix her potions adequately, and had never caused any Longbottom-style accidents in class. Most of his Slytherins snickered about "Loony Lovegood," but although Snape tried to summon up a sense of disdain, he felt a chill run down his spine as he recalled her casual remark about hearing voices behind the Veil. Maybe she wasn't so crazy after all--or maybe she was crazy precisely because she had been touched by death as a child, having witnessed her mother's accidental death when she was nine. Sometimes such people could actually see into the world of the dead...

Snape shuddered for a moment, then laughed at himself. Yes, the girl believed that she could hear the dead, but she had also believed that the fugitive Sirius Black had really been Stubby Boardman, the lead singer of some music group called The Hobgoblins. What an idiot he was for getting all worked up over some silly girl's fantasies! It must be the stress of the funeral. Fortunately, Lovegood was a Ravenclaw, and therefore not his problem outside of Potions class, and Snape prepared for his next class, feeling much more cheerful.

*** 

On Saturday, Snape and his family went to Snape Manor for tea. Snape and his mother managed to be civil to each other, although their conversation was stilted and a little awkward. Selima seemed more at ease with Theodore, who listened attentively as Selima went over the rather complicated details of the Snape financial holdings.

Snape watched his mother, frowning thoughtfully. There was something different about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Then Theodore smiled as she praised him for asking a particularly insightful question, and Snape realized what it was: her icy demeanor had thawed just a little, and she seemed to be treating Theodore as her real grandson and heir, and not just some barely adequate substitute. Perhaps it was because Lady Selima had finally accepted the inevitable; his mother was more practical and slightly less stubborn than his father, and had usually been willing to make the best of a bad situation once she realized that she couldn't change it. Or perhaps it was because Theodore was showing an interest in Selima's area of expertise, which had always bored Snape as a child, much to his mother's disapproval. 

Snape felt a little odd watching Theodore smile at Selima and converse with her pleasantly. Part of him was grateful that she was treating Theodore well, and part of him was a little suspicious. He knew that Theodore wasn't used to being praised--he had never once heard Thaddeus utter a kind word to or about the boy--which was probably what was making him respond so favorably to Selima. Lupin looked pleased to see everyone getting along so well, but Snape felt a pang of sorrow and guilt: sorrow that Theodore's childhood had been so miserable that a few words of praise would make him so happy, and guilt that he had not done anything to help Theodore sooner. And then he worried about Theodore getting too close to Selima, because he was afraid that she might hurt him somehow, on purpose or even just accidentally, with a careless cutting word or cold look of disapproval if Theodore eventually did something that failed to fit her image of a "proper" heir.

Like taking a male lover, for example, although Snape had only Lupin's word for it that Theodore and Blaise were an item. He almost hoped that Lupin was wrong, because it was going to cause a great deal of trouble in the future when Selima found out. Snape hadn't cared before, when Theodore didn't care about Selima's opinion, but now...Snape swore that he would kill his mother if she did anything to hurt his son.

But everyone else seemed to be at ease; Lupin was still smiling, and Selima had sent only a couple of token, halfhearted insults his way. The conversation shifted away from the Snape finances when Dylan asked about Ali's flying carpet business.

Selima sighed and took a sip of her tea. "That's Ali's pet peeve; he just will not let it go, no matter how many times the Ministry turns him down. He has a number of other successful business ventures, and his carpet business does quite well in other countries that don't have a ban, but it's become a matter of pride with him. He considers the ban to be irrational, and he's resolved to make the Ministry revoke it. A good merchant knows when to quit."

"He says that the broomstick manufacturers are backing the ban because they're afraid of losing sales," Dylan said.

"Oh, please!" groaned Selima. "Don't get him started on his conspiracy theories!"

Dylan laughed. "But if flying carpets became legal, we could ride the one in the library!" He sighed wistfully. "That would be so much fun."

"Your father tried to take it on a joyride once, you know," Selima said with a small smile.

"Really?" Dylan said. "You never told us that, Professor!"

"It's difficult to keep track of all of Evan's escapades," Snape said dryly. "But yes, I do remember that one now."

"He and his mother came over for tea," Selima explained. "This was a couple of years before he and Severus entered Hogwarts. He'd heard about our carpet, and under the guise of going to the bathroom, snuck up to the library."

"Did you go along on this little joyride, Severus?" Lupin asked, his eyes twinkling.

"I wasn't stupid enough to get involved with Evan's pranks," Snape said, then recalled the Swelling Solution chocolates they had sent to James Potter in third year, and added, "well, not often, anyway."

"No, Evan did it on his own," Selima continued. "But he didn't know how to control the carpet, and fell off it and tumbled down the stairs; he was lucky he didn't break his neck. Severin had to chase the carpet around the mansion, and he was very annoyed. Elin scolded Evan, but at the same time kept fussing over him and asking him if he was all right, and took exception to Severin's comment that the boy deserved a good thrashing." The corners of her mouth twitched a little, then curved into a smile almost against her will. "He was a little terror; his parents spoiled him rotten...but he was a very charming boy. Every time he got into trouble, he would apologize most eloquently and contritely, flattering you shamelessly, and all the while there was this devilish little gleam in his eyes that said he would do it again as soon as your back was turned. I must admit that even I was charmed a little by him, but--" She gave Snape an ironic smile. "--believe it or not, I used to thank my lucky stars that my son was an obedient child, and not a rapscallion like Evan!"

Dylan, Theodore, and Lupin laughed, and after a moment, Selima joined in. It was the first time in a long time that Snape had heard her laugh without any sarcasm or bitterness, and as she indulgently told Dylan a few more stories about his father, he realized that he had forgotten how charming she could be when she wished to exert herself--probably because she never bothered to use her charm on him, only on the Ministry officials and important pureblood families who could help or hinder her efforts to advance the Snape family's position in society.

But there was little Dylan could do to aid in those efforts, at least right now, although he was the newly-confirmed Lord Rosier, as well as the heir to Mathias Donner's estate. Was his mother perhaps looking to the future, when Dylan might grow in power and influence or...could Lupin be right? Was his mother really making an effort to change and to accept his surrogate family?

"You're so quiet, Severus," Lupin said with a smile, leaning over to place a hand on his arm.

"I was thinking, Lupin," Snape replied, then to cover his discomfort, added in a snotty tone, "Although I realize that's something most Gryffindors are unfamiliar with..."

Lupin just laughed, and Snape tried to set aside his worries, at least for the moment. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, and they returned to Hogwarts, with Selima promising to come to Slytherin's Quidditch match against Gryffindor the following week.

"I'm quite looking forward to it, actually," Selima said with a pleasant smile, but there was a certain spark in her eyes, an odd combination of eagerness and calculation that immediately made Snape wary. It was the same look she always used to wear when she was about to make an important power play or engineer an especially devious bit of manipulation. Selima had always gone about doing her duty coldly and efficiently, or at least that was how it had seemed to Snape when he was a child, but he was struck by the sudden realization that she actually relished the politicking and social maneuvering. Her renewed enthusiasm--perhaps enhanced by the fact that she had been out of the game for so long--made her look more alive and beautiful than he had ever seen her, and he felt as if he were seeing her for the first time. He was surprised to find that he felt a little relieved to see that her spirits had lifted after making the shocking discovery that his mother had been crying in the study on the day of the funeral--in Lupin's presence, no less! But at the same time, neither did he want himself or Theodore to be drawn into her plotting and scheming.

"I hadn't realized that you were such a Quidditch fan, Mother," Snape said coolly. 

"Well, I admit that I'm not much of a fan," Selima replied innocently, "but of course I want to see my grandson play."

Now Snape was really worried; Selima was a great many things, but "innocent" was not one of them. "Of course," Snape echoed dubiously.

"We'll see you next Saturday!" Lupin called out cheerfully as they left.

When they were back at school and alone in their quarters, Snape confided his concerns to Lupin.

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully. "It's true that Theo is warming up to your mother a bit, but I think he's embracing his role as the Snape heir so enthusiastically because he wants to please you, Severus, not her. But I think it's a good thing that they seem to be getting along. It's the first step in becoming a real family."

"I don't want him getting too close to her, Remus. I don't want her to hurt him."

"I understand your concerns, Severus," Lupin said quietly, "and they're valid ones, but...are you sure that you aren't a little jealous? That Theodore might be growing close to Selima, or that Selima is treating Theodore more kindly than she did you?"

"Ouch," Snape said with a shaky laugh. "I usually only expect that kind of bluntness from Branwen." His former Professor rarely minced words and had a habit of telling people the unadulterated truth, which was usually what they least wanted to hear. Lupin smiled apologetically and stroked his arm in comforting manner, as if to soften his words. "I...I don't know, Lupin," he said after a long pause. "Maybe. You know that I'm not good at sharing the people I care about."

Lupin leaned against his chest, and Snape put his arms around him. "The wolf loves your possessiveness, Severus," he murmured. "But I do think it would be good for Theo and Selima to build a closer relationship."

Snape thought it over. "I don't know if I can forgive my mother, but that's between her and me. I can live with the past, even though I don't like it. And in a way, I can understand why she gets along with Theodore better than she did me. He was raised to be an obedient, compliant pureblood heir, and he's nowhere near as difficult or rebellious as I was." Snape grimaced, looking worried. "I overlooked him for so many years; he seemed as cold and hard as you would expect any future Death Eater to be. But underneath all that sullenness, he's the most vulnerable of all my Slytherins. He's so eager to please, so grateful for a little praise or affection...if my mother can treat Theodore well, and truly accept him as part of the family, I'll be grateful for it, and try to set aside my own grudges, but I'm afraid that she'll hurt him, sooner or later."

"I think that Selima is trying to accept him, Severus," Lupin said. 

"I think so, too," Snape agreed, a little reluctantly, recalling the way Selima had praised Theodore for behaving like a "proper Snape heir" at the funeral. "But I'm afraid of what will happen if he disappoints her by failing to do his duty--as I did, by taking an inappropriate lover."

"Oh," Lupin said, comprehension dawning on his face.

"I know we laughed it off earlier, even gloated about how we'd outsmarted Lady Selima, but that was before..."

"Before they'd begun to see each other as family," Lupin finished. "When Selima was nothing more than an unpleasant stranger to Theo." Lupin sighed. "Well, I'm not sure what we can do, Severus, except to hope that, having lost her husband, Selima won't be so quick to cast away what little family she has left."

"My mother is not motivated by sentiment, Lupin."

"Your mother is not a monster, Severus," Lupin said, his eyes solemn and a little sad. "She's a woman who made some bad choices for what she believed were the right reasons at the time. And...I think your father's death has begun to change her a little."

"Maybe, but will that be enough?" Snape asked skeptically. 

"Maybe not now," Lupin replied, "but over time...perhaps. Time enough for you and she and Theodore to truly become a family. And you are the head of the Snape family now, Severus; she cannot disown him, and she is a Snape, no longer a Bashir, and she will not just walk away from this family." In a very soft voice, Lupin added, "Because she has nowhere else to go."

"So many maybes, Lupin," Snape sighed wearily. "Even if she doesn't walk away, that doesn't mean that she won't do her best to make our lives miserable."

"We won't let her abuse him, Severus," Lupin said firmly. "Not even verbally. We'll make it clear that she'll lose her heir if she does; I would like to see you reconcile with your mother, but not at Theodore's expense. If she turns on him, then we will keep him away from Snape Manor, and we will smother him with love and reassure him that he hasn't done anything wrong. Besides, we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Theo is only seventeen; it'll be a few more years before we'll have to explain why we won't let her arrange a marriage for him. Perhaps by that time she'll have grown attached enough to him that she won't be able to just write him off."

"Your Gryffindor optimism never ceases to amaze me," Snape said, still feeling skeptical.

Lupin kissed him. "We already have more than enough on our plate, Sev. Let's deal with the present today, and deal with the future as it comes." Snape thought that was a bit shortsighted, but not having any better ideas, reluctantly acquiesced and let Lupin lead him to the bed to comfort him in the usual manner.

*** 

Halloween fell on the following day, and the students made their usual trip to Hogsmeade. They were accompanied by Hagrid, McGonagall, and Flitwick; Snape and Lupin chose to stay back at the school this time, taking advantage of the opportunity to spend some uninterrupted time alone.

Hermione and Dylan went off to Madam Puddifoot's, somewhat to the disgruntlement of their respective Gryffindor and Slytherin friends. For a moment, Harry was tempted to ask Ginny if she'd like to go to Puddifoot's with him, but chickened out, remembering how disastrously his date with Cho there had gone in fifth year. It had been bad enough being compared to Roger Davies, and Harry figured he would only suffer even more in comparison to the smooth and charming Dylan Rosier. Besides, Ginny was no longer the little girl who had a crush on "famous" Harry Potter; what if she laughed in his face when he asked her on a date? Well, actually Ginny wasn't the type to do something that mean, but what if she took it as a joke, or worse, turned him down pityingly?

Feeling rather cowardly--why was asking a girl out harder than fighting the Death Eaters?--Harry said casually to Ron and Ginny, "How about grabbing a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks?"

"Sure," Ginny said.

"Sounds good," said Ron. "Then maybe we can stop by Honeydukes and Zonko's."

They ended up at a table next to Draco, Serafina, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore, and Blaise. Harry noticed that there was a new waitress assisting Madam Rosmerta, a woman in her late thirties or early forties with limp, stringy hair that was not quite blonde and not quite brown, who looked familiar although Harry couldn't seem to place her name or face.

She stopped by Draco's table first, and asked cheerfully, "Well, what will you be having today?"

"Mrs. Avery?!" Draco exclaimed, his jaw dropping as he stared at her in shock.

"Hi, Mum," Serafina said calmly.

"Hello, dear," Delia Avery replied, still smiling. "It's nice to see you again, Draco--and you too, Vincent, Gregory, Theodore, and...Blaise, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaise said politely; the other boys were in too much shock to respond. "Are you working here now?"

"Yes," Delia replied, "I just started last week."

"How's the job going?" Serafina asked.

"Pretty well," her mother said. "Madam Rosmerta's been very kind. I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm afraid I have to get back to work." The room was rapidly filling up with students. "Are you ready to order?"

Draco was still staring at Delia with his mouth hanging open, and Serafina poked him in the side. He blinked, then said weakly, "Ah...butterbeer all around?" 

The others nodded, and Delia said cheerfully, "All right then, six butterbeers coming up!"

She stopped by the next table, and her eyes widened when she saw Harry. Smiling nervously, she asked, "And what would you like?"

"Um...three butterbeers," Harry said.

"Coming right up," Delia said, and went off to get their drinks.

"I can't believe there's a Death Eater working here!" Ron exclaimed in a hushed voice.

Ginny kicked him in the leg under the table and hissed, "Shhh! Serafina's sitting right at the next table!"

"Why is she working here?" Harry whispered. He knew that Delia Avery and Narcissa Malfoy had been pardoned because they'd turned against their fellow Death Eaters in the final battle, but seeing a former Death Eater working at one of his favorite hangouts made him a little uneasy.

Ginny shrugged, but at the next table, Draco was asking Serafina the same thing. "What is your mother doing here?!"

"Working," Serafina replied, in a tone that stated that should be obvious.

"But why?" Crabbe asked. "Did the Ministry take all your money?"

"My father wasn't as wealthy as he liked to pretend," Serafina explained, looking unperturbed. "The fines that the Ministry imposed drained most of the money from our Gringotts account. So Mum put the house up for sale, and the Headmaster helped her get this job. She's moved into an apartment here in town, too."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Draco demanded.

"It all just happened recently," Serafina said with a shrug, her voice and face as indifferent and emotionless as always. "She finally found a buyer for the house, so she had to move out right away, and the Headmaster found her an apartment here in Hogsmeade. Then he talked to Madam Rosmerta, and she said she could use some extra help since business has picked up a lot since the war ended."

"Does that mean you're poor now?" Goyle blurted out. "Like the Weasleys?" Ron glowered at him from the next table.

"I guess so," Serafina said, not looking at all upset about it. "Except that the Weasleys aren't poor anymore."

"Oh, right," Goyle said.

"It's terrible," Draco said, looking horrified, "that your mother should have to work in such a demeaning job!"

Serafina shrugged. "Mum doesn't have much work experience, and not many places will hire a former Death Eater, anyway. But Madam Rosmerta owed Dumbledore a favor, so she agreed to hire my mother. Besides, I don't think serving butterbeer is all that demeaning, and it's nice to have Mum close by so I can visit her on our Hogsmeade days." Draco still looked stunned and horrified, and Serafina smiled just a little. "You're such a snob, Draco."

Delia returned with a tray of mugs, and began passing them out. From a nearby table, Jack Sloper called out, "How about some service over here?"

"I'll be right there," Delia called back as the Slytherins frowned.

Jack was sharing a table with Andrew Kirke, Dean Thomas, Susan Bones, Stewart Ackerley, and Isabelle Laroque. "I don't want to be waited on by a Death Eater," Stewart said in a loud voice, and suddenly silence fell over the room. Isabelle frowned and whispered something into his ear, and across the room, McGonagall and Flitwick rose from their seats in the booth they were sharing; Flitwick looked anxious, and McGonagall angry.

Delia slowly turned around and said in an even voice, "Then you may go to the bar and ask Madam Rosmerta to serve you." Meanwhile, the Slytherins were glaring at Stewart, and the normally emotionless Serafina was looking especially murderous. Her hand drifted towards the pocket where she kept her wand, and Theodore leaned across the table to grab her wrist, whispering urgently to her, obviously trying to keep her from hexing Stewart.

Madam Rosmerta came out from behind the bar and walked over to Stewart's table. "If you don't care to be served by my staff, you can take your business elsewhere," she said in a cold voice.

"Fine!" Stewart snapped, then got up from his seat, deliberately bumping into Delia on his way out, and she dropped her tray, spilling the remaining mugs of butterbeer, which splashed all over the floor and her skirt. 

McGonagall and Flitwick were marching over, and the Slytherins were jumping to their feet, but it was Harry who reached Stewart first. Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped up and stepped in front of the Ravenclaw boy.

"Get out of the way, Potter," Stewart snarled.

Harry didn't know if he believed that Delia Avery had really reformed, but he did know that he despised bullies. "You should apologize to Mrs. Avery and pay for the spilled drinks," he said firmly.

"She should apologize to me for being so clumsy," Stewart sneered.

"You bumped into her on purpose!" Harry said hotly.

"I did not!" Stewart retorted. "And anyway, it's none of your business! You may be the savior of the wizarding world, but you have no right to boss me around! You're not a teacher or a prefect!"

"No, but I am," McGonagall said in a steely voice. "Apologize to Mrs. Avery at once, Ackerley!"

"I will not!"

"You're in enough trouble as it is, Mr. Ackerley," Flitwick said quietly. "I already intend to take ten points from Ravenclaw and give you detention. Don't make it any worse."

"You can expel me for all I care!" Stewart shouted. "But I will not apologize to one of the people who murdered my father!" He pushed his way past Harry and ran out of the inn.

"I'd better go after him," Flitwick said, still looking worried. "I think it would be best if I took him back to the school now, if that's all right with you, Minerva."

"Of course, Filius," McGonagall replied. "Go ahead; Hagrid and I can manage alone. I don't expect that there will be any more problems today." She swept the room with a stern, steely gaze to emphasize her point.

Flitwick hurried after Stewart, and after hesitating for a moment, Stewart's friends got up and left, too. Isabelle paused; her features looked drawn and tight, as if she were trying to keep herself under control, but Harry could see the anger smoldering in her eyes. It suddenly reminded him of the way he used fight to keep his temper under control when Snape was being particularly nasty. "I apologize for my friend," Isabelle said to Delia in a stiff voice, then left without waiting for a reply. 

Harry knelt down to pick up the dropped mugs, and Ginny and Ron got up to help him. Theodore and Blaise came over as well, and cast a spell to clean up the spilled butterbeer. Meanwhile, Serafina and Draco were asking Delia if she was all right.

Delia said she was fine, but she looked pale and shaken. "I'm so sorry, Rosmerta," she said. "You've been so good to me, and then I cause all this trouble for you..."

"It's not your fault, dear," Rosmerta said firmly.

"It's that git Ackerley who should be apologizing!" Draco said indignantly.

"But you can't afford to lose customers because of me," Delia told Rosmerta. "I should have realized something like this would happen; that boy was right--no one will want to be waited on by a former Death Eater. I should quit before you lose more business--"

"No one tells me what I can or can't do," Rosmerta said firmly. "Or who I can or can't hire."

"But--" Delia protested.

"Oh, don't worry, Delia," Rosmerta said. "I won't go out of business. The only other place in town that people can go to for a drink is The Hog's Head." She sniffed disdainfully. "And I highly doubt that my customers will be able to stomach that swill they serve. I suppose if they don't mind watered-down tea, they could go to Madam Puddifoot's..." Delia smiled weakly, and the Slytherins laughed, although it sounded a little forced. "Why don't you go take a break and get cleaned up, Delia?"

Delia left with only a token protest, still looking a little shaken, and Madam Rosmerta returned with three mugs of butterbeer to replace the ones that had been spilled. Harry reached for his wallet, but Rosmerta shook her head. "It's on the house, dear," she said with a wink. She leaned forward--incidentally giving Ron and Harry a clear view of her ample bosom, which was nearly spilling out of her low-cut blouse--and whispered, "I liked the way you stood up for Delia." 

Ron and Harry both turned scarlet, and Ginny gave them a disgusted look. "Um...I...I...just don't like bullies, that's all," Harry stammered.

"Nor do I," Rosmerta said with a smile, then went to serve some other customers. 

Serafina came over and said gravely, "Thank you, Harry."

"It was nothing," Harry said, feeling rather uncomfortable, because he wasn't sure how he felt about Delia being pardoned. He had spent some time with Draco's mother over the summer, when she and Draco came to Grimmauld Place to visit Sirius, and he was now able to think of her as a person, not just a Death Eater. She was Sirius's cousin, and Blackmore was fond of her, and she was actually kind of nice when she dropped her snooty attitude. But he didn't know anything about Delia, although he had been told that, like Narcissa, she had turned against the Death Eaters when they threatened her child.

"It is something," Serafina insisted. "You stood up for my mother, and I won't forget that. I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, really," Harry protested. 

"I won't forget," Serafina repeated, then returned to her own table. The other Slytherins at the table gave Harry thoughtful looks and slightly grudging nods of approval.

"You're all right, Potter," Goyle said in an almost friendly voice, and Theodore lifted his tankard silently in salute with a faint, slightly ironic smile.

"Sometimes you're not so bad for a Gryffindor," Draco drawled in that lazy, arrogant tone of voice he liked to use, although for once there seemed to be a hint of genuine respect beneath the sarcasm.

After they finished their drinks, they all headed to Honeydukes, where they ran into Dylan and Hermione. "That's awful," Hermione said when she heard what had happened.

"It is, but it's to be expected," Dylan said. "People have been giving me a hard time about being a Death Eater's son all my life."

Lisa Turpin happened to be in the shop at the time, and joined in the conversation, looking troubled. "What Stewart did is wrong, but...he's been through a lot lately. His father died during the final battle, and...well..."

"He hates the Death Eaters," Dylan finished quietly. "I guess I can't really blame him. I hated the Aurors for a long time, for killing my father."

"I don't blame Stewart for hating the Death Eaters, but I won't let anyone treat my mother badly!" Serafina said in a fiercely protective voice, her violet eyes shining with rare intensity. "And she never wanted to be a Death Eater, anyway; my father forced her to join."

Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke walked into the store, and spotted the Slytherins. Jack scowled, and Andrew picked up a bag of sugar skulls and tossed it at Dylan, saying, "Here, Rosier--perfect treats for a Death Eater!"

As Draco and the other Slytherins glared at Andrew, Dylan neatly reached up and plucked the bag of candy out of the air. Damien walked in right at that moment, accompanied by Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus. Not having heard Andrew's earlier remark, he said cheerfully, "Hey, nice catch, Dylan! Hope you do as well at our Quidditch match!"

Dylan smiled pleasantly at Andrew. "Thanks, I think I will get some of these. They're kind of cute, don't you think, Hermione? I promised to bring some treats back for Gabrielle and Allegra."

"They're great for Halloween," Hermione agreed with a bright smile. "How about getting some of those licorice bats, too?"

They sauntered off, picking out candies and blithely ignoring Jack and Andrew, who were turning red and fuming.

"Hey, Sloper," Draco said, smirking, "why don't you get some of those Ice Mice for your brother? I hear he's fond of rats."

"Why, you--" Jack said, reaching for his wand. But just then, McGonagall passed by, and stopped to look in the window at a display of candy. Andrew elbowed Jack in the side, and the two of them turned and and left abruptly.

Harry was relieved that a fight had been averted, but that incident, and the one at The Three Broomsticks, left a bad taste in his mouth. He had thought that when Voldemort was defeated and the war was over, that everything would be all right, like a fairy tale that ended with "and they lived happily ever after," but now he realized how silly and naive that notion was. There was no real happy ending for those who had lost loved ones in the war, like Stewart. And even though Theodore seemed relieved that his father was dead, and was happy to be Snape's son now, Harry still remembered how he had woken up screaming in the middle of the night during the summer at Grimmauld Place. 

Harry was quiet and distracted for the rest of the day. Ginny and Ron had to repeat themselves two or three times to get his attention when they asked him something, and eventually they just let him be, and the three of them wandered around Hogsmeade together, munching on their Honeydukes candies in silence. Had he been right to confront Stewart Ackerley in The Three Broomsticks? Didn't Stewart have a right to be angry at the Death Eaters, as even Dylan had admitted? How much of the Death Eaters' activities had Delia Avery participated in? Had she merely been a reluctant bystander, or had she killed people, and if so, did she deserve to be pardoned? Harry also wondered how deeply Narcissa Malfoy had been involved with the Death Eaters, and what Professor Snape had done to keep his cover with them when he was working as a spy.

Harry felt like he needed to talk to someone--not one of his friends, but an adult who might actually have some answers to his questions. Sirius wasn't here, and this wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to put in a letter, and besides, Sirius wasn't that familiar with the inner workings of the Death Eaters. Then Harry realized that the person he wanted to talk to was Lupin, who was a little more objective than Sirius, and had some familiarity with the Death Eaters through his relationship with Snape--but that presented a problem because Lupin was probably in the dungeon with Snape right now since it wasn't a school day.

After much inner debate, Harry decided to brave the Potions Master's wrath, and after the students returned to Hogwarts, he headed down to the dungeon. He timidly knocked on the door, got no response, then knocked a little louder.

"Yes?" Snape called out.

"Er...it's Harry Potter, sir. Sorry to disturb you, but is Professor Lupin in?"

"Just a minute, Harry," Lupin said cheerfully; Harry thought he heard Snape mutter an unintelligible curse under his breath. After a few minutes, Lupin opened the door, looking a little disheveled: his hair was messy, as if he'd just gotten up from bed and neglected to comb it, and his robe was hanging open, revealing that the top few buttons of his shirt had been left undone. There were several prominent bruises circling his neck, and Harry felt his face turn red. 

Lupin noticed his flush, and the direction of his gaze, and hastily buttoned up his shirt although he was grinning, not looking the least bit abashed. One small thing to be grateful for was that Snape was nowhere in sight; the door on the far side of the room--presumably leading to the bedroom--was closed. Snape was probably in there trying to avoid Harry--or he was getting dressed, a thought that Harry quickly tried to banish from his head with a shudder. That was definitely not a mental image that he cared to contemplate!

"Come on in, Harry," Lupin said. "I'll fix some tea for us."

"Um...are you sure it's okay?" Harry asked, cautiously stepping into the room. "Are you sure Professor Snape won't mind?"

"It's fine," Lupin said carelessly. "Have a seat." 

The room was large and spacious, and Harry idly wondered if all the teachers' quarters were this large, or if the Potions Master rated special privileges. He took a seat on the couch, looking around curiously as Lupin heated up a pot of tea with his wand. The couch, armchair, and the rug beside the hearth were all Slytherin green. There was a chess set laid out on the coffee table near the couch, and there was a wooden carving of a coiled snake displayed on the mantle.

"Here you go, Harry," Lupin said, handing him a cup of tea.

"Thank you, Professor."

"So what's on your mind, Harry?" Lupin asked, and Harry explained what had happened at Hogsmeade.

"I see," Lupin said, a wrinkle creasing his forehead as he frowned, and his blue eyes were filled with concern. 

"How did Stewart's father die?" Harry asked. "I know he was an Auror, and that he died in the final battle, but I don't know exactly how. Did...did Mrs. Avery...?"

"Delia had no direct involvement with Mr. Ackerley's death," Lupin replied. "He was killed when a giant hit him with an uprooted tree."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a small sense of relief that at least Delia Avery hadn't actually killed Stewart's father. "But...she was a Death Eater."

"Yes, she was," Lupin said, still frowning. "But she renounced them, and fought on our side when Andreas threatened to kill Serafina."

Harry shuddered again, this time with genuine fear and revulsion. That brought the count of Death Eaters who had tried to kill their own children during the battle up to three: Andreas Avery, Thaddeus Nott, and Lucius Malfoy. "I guess I'm having trouble understanding how she could have joined the Death Eaters if she wasn't a bad person. I mean, Serafina said that Mr. Avery forced her to, but..."

"Sometimes good people make mistakes, Harry," Lupin said quietly, and Harry wondered if he was thinking of Snape. "In Delia's case, she was a pureblood girl who had been raised to obey her husband, and on top of that, Andreas..." Lupin hesitated. "He was a very cruel man, and I have no doubt that he would have hurt or killed Delia if she disobeyed him."

"But...that doesn't make it okay," Harry argued. "If she helped the Death Eaters to hurt or kill people...just how involved with them was she, anyway?"

The bedroom door suddenly opened, and Snape glided out, his black robes billowing around him. "That is none of your business, Mr. Potter," he said sternly.

"But it is my business, sir," Harry said quietly, trying to sound firm but not defiant. He hadn't counted on Snape intruding on his talk with Lupin; maybe he should have asked Lupin if they could speak privately in his office. "My parents died because of Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"Then you feel that Mrs. Avery owes you an accounting of her actions?" Snape asked coldly. "Or that I do?"

"I don't think that's what he's saying, Severus," Lupin said, getting up to place a hand on Snape's arm, as if to calm him, or perhaps restrain him.

"No, sir," Harry said, shaking his head and trying to remain calm. "I guess I'm confused. I think Stewart was wrong to act that way, but on the other hand, doesn't he have a right to be angry that his father was killed?" 

"I think what you are asking, Potter, is whether Mrs. Avery deserves to be forgiven for her crimes," Snape said. His voice was taut and angry, but his eyes looked troubled, and a little guilty.

"Maybe I should go," Harry mumbled. "I shouldn't have disturbed you; I can talk to Professor Lupin later."

"No," Lupin said, "stay. Besides, I think Severus is better qualified to answer your questions than I am." Harry gave Lupin a dismayed look, and Snape glared at his lover, who stroked his arm soothingly. "He has a right to know, Severus," Lupin said softly, "after everything he's been through. And I think he's trying to understand things better, not throw accusations around."

Snape slowly sat down on the opposite end of the couch, as if trying to stay as far away from Harry as possible, and Lupin sat beside him, still hanging on to Snape's arm.

"If it makes you feel any better, Potter," Snape said, his eyes still filled with that mixture of anger and guilt, "Delia Avery was only a token member of the Death Eaters; she joined at her husband's insistence, but for the most part she simply observed passively at the meetings and ceremonies. She didn't go out Muggle or Auror-hunting, if only because she is a poor combative mage. Her main crime was that she was too afraid to oppose the Death Eaters, and merely stood by and watched as they killed people--a crime committed by countless others in the wizarding world, including the former Minister of Magic."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, remembering how Cornelius Fudge had refused to believe that Voldemort had returned during the Triwizard Tournament, even with all the evidence in front of him, including Cedric's body, Harry's own testimony, and the Mark on Snape's arm.

"Your friend Mr. Ackerley--" Snape began.

"He's not my friend," Harry protested. "I barely know him."

Snape glared at the interruption. "As I was saying, if Mr. Ackerley wishes to blame someone for his father's death, he might also blame the Ministry, including most of his father's coworkers, who ignored Dumbledore's warnings and refused to believe that the Dark Lord had returned until the Death Eaters finally showed up on their doorstep." In a contemptuous voice, Snape said, "They knew. I think Fudge knew from the time of the Triwizard Tournament, even though he denied it, and the Aurors must have realized the truth when the Dementors left Azkaban, but they pretended not to because they didn't want to believe it. The Death Eaters escaped and people died so that they could preserve the illusion that everything was fine a little longer. And incidentally, Mr. Ackerley senior was one of those who participated in the cover-up."

"That may be true," Lupin murmured, "but I don't think that telling Stewart that his father was partially responsible for his own death is going to help matters any."

"I didn't say that he should tell Ackerley that," Snape said in a testy voice. "I was just explaining things to Potter as you asked me to."

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin said apologetically, gently stroking Snape's arm. Harry felt extremely uncomfortable watching Lupin touch Snape in a way that seemed very intimate, even if it wasn't exactly sexual; he felt as if he were intruding on a private moment. Then Lupin turned to Harry and said, "I won't say that Delia is blameless, but she did find the strength to fight against the Death Eaters in the end, and that is more than most people can say. Very few people gave their support to Dumbledore and the Order even after Voldemort's return was finally made public. As for whether Delia deserves forgiveness...well, that's not really up to me to say. But she cannot atone for her crimes if she's dead or locked up in a prison cell. Free, she has a chance to do some good in the world, starting by being a good parent to Serafina, who has committed no crime, and who would suffer if her mother was taken away from her." 

Harry nodded; when Lupin phrased it that way, it made sense. But on the other hand, after the first war, some of the Death Eaters had been pardoned because they claimed to be repentant, saying that Voldemort had forced them to join and controlled them with an Imperius Curse...

"For my part," Lupin said quietly, as if reading his mind, "I believe that Delia is truly repentant, and I bear her no grudge. I don't believe that she will ever again make the mistake of allowing herself to be ruled by fear and intimidation, nor will she ever allow Serafina to be put in such danger again. But as for Stewart and the others who bear grudges against the Death Eaters..." Lupin sighed sadly. "Nothing that you or I can say will make them change their minds. And Stewart probably doesn't realize it, but even if Delia and everyone else linked to the Death Eaters were put in prison or even executed, it would not bring him peace of mind, because nothing can bring his father back. He will have to heal in his own way and time. Having patient and understanding friends might help..."

"Like I told Professor Snape, I don't really know him," Harry said uncomfortably. "I'll try to be nice to him from now on, but I don't think we really got off on the right foot, considering what happened in Hogsmeade...he probably won't want to be friends with me."

"And I doubt that he'll accept any overtures from me, considering the company I keep," Lupin said with a rueful smile as he looked at Snape, softening his words by stroking Snape's arm gently. Snape just gave him a small, sardonic smile in response. "I'll speak to Professor Flitwick," Lupin continued. "As Stewart's Head of House, he'll know best how to help him. Do you know who his friends are, Harry?"

"Not really," Harry replied, "but he was hanging out with Dean, Susan, Jack, and Andrew today at The Three Broomsticks. Oh, and Isabelle Laroque; he seems to be spending a lot of time with her lately, or at least I've heard some of the girls in Gryffindor gossiping about it. Well, the guys too, actually." The French girl was quite popular among the boys, and some of them had been bemoaning the fact that she seemed to be taken, while others were still hoping that they had a shot with her.

"She lost relatives to the Death Eaters as well," Snape told Lupin, who looked worried.

"But she got mad at Stewart when he was rude to Mrs. Avery," Harry told them. "And she apologized to Mrs. Avery for Stewart's behavior."

Snape frowned, looking puzzled. "Well, that's somewhat unexpected."

"The Prewett brothers died before Isabelle was born," Lupin said. "Perhaps that's why she's able to remain more objective about it, since she never really knew her uncles. She's polite and intelligent, but a little reserved. I haven't gotten to know her as well as some of my other students."

"Well, we'll keep an eye on Mr. Ackerley and his friends," Snape said, "though I don't think it will go beyond the usual name-calling. But perhaps I should think of some particularly vile detention tasks, just in case they step out of line..."

"I'm not sure that will help matters, Severus..."

Lupin and Snape seemed to be getting wrapped up in their discussion, almost as if they had forgotten Harry was here, and he rose to his feet, figuring that now would be a good time to leave.

"Oh, sorry, Harry," Lupin said, glancing up and looking a little startled. "We didn't mean to ignore you--"

"Speak for yourself, Lupin," Snape muttered.

"It's okay, Professor," Harry reassured Lupin. "Thank you for talking to me; I feel a little better now."

"I'm glad, Harry," Lupin said, smiling warmly at him. "Please feel free to stop by anytime you want to talk."

Snape looked a little irked by that offer, and Harry hastened to say, "And thank you, Professor, for explaining things to me." Snape stared at him in shock, and whatever insult or complaint he was about utter died on his lips. "The next time I want to talk to Professor Lupin, I'll try to go to his office," Harry added, and quickly left the room before Snape had a chance to recover.

*** 

By the time Snape recovered his composure, Potter was gone, and he found himself glaring at the door that had just closed behind the boy. Damn that boy for causing trouble even when he didn't intend to! Potter's queries about forgiveness had awakened old and familiar feelings of guilt, because Snape still hadn't entirely forgiven himself for the things he had done--or not done--as a Death Eater. He would never forget the people he had seen tortured and killed while he had stood by and watched, unable to intervene without risking his cover and his life, and he would always regret not being able to save Evan and Lyall, no matter how much Lupin and Dumbledore assured him that it wasn't his fault. It helped a little that Dylan didn't blame him, but only a little. He sighed and leaned back against the couch, saying wearily, "So it's starting again."

"I thought things would be different after the war," Lupin said, looking distressed. 

Snape shook his head. "You Gryffindors are too naive. The hostility between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and to a lesser extent, the other Houses, has existed for hundreds of years. I told you before, you can't change that overnight."

"But it's not just the usual House rivalry, Severus," Lupin objected. "It's causing internal conflict within the other Houses, or at least in Gryffindor. Seamus and Dean have broken up a friendship that's lasted for nearly seven years just because Seamus wants to date a girl who's friendly with the Slytherins. And there's the way Jarrett and Kenneth picked on Portia..."

"It's not like there haven't been bullies in Gryffindor before," Snape pointed out with a slightly bitter smile. "It's just that they usually bully people in other Houses." Lupin's eyes filled with guilt, which in turn made Snape feel even more guilty. He put his arm around Lupin and pulled him close, stroking his cheek in apology. Lupin laid his head on Snape's chest and sighed, a sound that managed to be both sad and contented at the same time. Suddenly Snape was curious about something. "Sorry for dredging up the past, Remus, but I was just wondering...did people in Gryffindor ever harass Black or Rafe for being from Slytherin families?"

Lupin thought about it. "Maybe a few people at first, but it didn't last long. Sirius and James bonded on the train when they stopped some older boys from picking on Peter. Maybe under different circumstances James might have been a little suspicious of Sirius, but that incident convinced him that Sirius was definitely all right, and James had absolute faith in the House system: if someone was a Gryffindor, they must by definition be brave and loyal." Lupin grimaced. "Although, obviously Peter eventually proved that wasn't true. Most of the other Gryffindors thought the same way James did, though--that the members of your House are your family, and you stick by them no matter what. And Sirius and Rafe were both charming and charismatic boys who were quickly able to win over any doubters. It helped that they both excelled at Quidditch, and were star players for the team."

Snape felt a little envious. "In Slytherin, we banded together outwardly against the other Houses, but at the same time, internally there was always a lot of infighting and scheming and power struggles going on."

"Your Slytherins have changed for the better," Lupin told him, "but I'm not sure that the Gryffindors have. Maybe we should call a staff meeting to discuss the situation--"

"Didn't you just tell Potter that you won't change the minds of people like Ackerley just by talking to them?" Snape pointed out. "You said that they have to work things out on their own."

"You're right, Severus," Lupin agreed reluctantly. "But I hate to see the students at odds with each other like this."

"It's not really anything new, Lupin," Snape said philosophically. "People have hated, or at least distrusted, the Slytherins since Salazar left Hogwarts."

Lupin sighed again, then suddenly looked more cheerful and said hopefully, "But at least Harry and Ron have matured a great deal, and Allegra is the first Gryffindor since Rafe Dietrich to openly have friends in all four Houses, including Slytherin. She's been popular among most of the Gryffindors ever since the Rat-Hex incident, even though a few of them still snub her. That's a positive sign, don't you think, Sev?"

"Yes, Lupin," Snape agreed, mostly to make his lover feel better, but then he thought that maybe Lupin was right after all. There was still some tension and hostility, but the amount of inter-House mingling that was currently going on was unprecedented. He supposed it was a good sign, even if all the Gryffindor-Slytherin chumminess was rather annoying. And the war was over and the Dark Lord was dead; that thought made Snape feel much better, and he wrapped his arms around Lupin and kissed him. Lupin kissed him back, and Snape could feel the werewolf relaxing in his embrace. Yes, things weren't really so bad, after all, Snape decided. His students were all safe, and while he might have to worry about them getting into verbal arguments and maybe even hexing each other, he didn't think that he really had to worry about them killing each other...

*** 

Isabelle cornered Stewart alone after the Halloween feast and snapped, "What did you think you were doing?"

"The Death Eaters killed my father!" Stewart shot back. "You can't expect me to just sit there and be polite to one of them!"

"Don't forget that they killed my uncles and sent my mother into hiding!" Isabelle retorted. "But by acting like you did, you're only drawing suspicion to yourself! Because of your hotheadedness, I had to apologize to Avery so that people wouldn't think that we were conspiring together!"

"You apologized?" Stewart asked in shock.

"Yes," Isabelle replied firmly. "Think, Stewart--what do you want to achieve? Shouting insults at a washed-up Death Eater working as a waitress might make you feel better right now, but what about our long-term goals? I don't just want to humiliate Delia Avery; I want all of the Death Eaters to be exposed for what they really are, and I want to see that they're punished for their crimes. But we have to go about it carefully. Dumbledore is protective of his so-called reformed Death Eaters."

Stewart began to calm down, and the anger drained out of his face. "You're right. I'm sorry; I didn't think. But how long are we going to sit around and observe these Death Eaters? I think it's time to take some action!"

Isabelle frowned, then slowly nodded. "Perhaps you're right. It doesn't look like they're going to do anything to give themselves away anytime soon, so we may need to do something to draw them out." She hesitated. "I don't think we should mention this to Susan and Dean, though. I think Susan would object to acting before we have hard evidence."

"Yes," Stewart agreed, "Susan is a nice girl, but she's a follow-the-rules type, like most Hufflepuffs." He grinned sheepishly. "Er...no offense intended."

"None taken," Isabelle replied with a smile. "That seems to be true for the most part. But the enemy doesn't play by the rules."

"Exactly!" Stewart said vehemently. "Now I have an idea--the Gryffindor-Slytherin match is coming up this weekend. If we could place a hex on one of the Slytherin player's brooms, they'll probably blame Gryffindor for it--"

"And if they attack Gryffindor, everyone will see their true colors," Isabelle finished with a satisfied smile. "Although there's always the possibility that they'll think one of their own did it. There seems to be some conflict within the House from what I've heard. Everyone saw Theodore Snape-formerly-Nott argue with his cousin in the Great Hall during the first week of school, and everyone knows that they hate each other."

"And some of the Slytherins probably resent Draco for the way he used to lord it over them back when Lucius Malfoy was still alive," Stewart said, looking worried. 

"It doesn't matter," Isabelle said confidently. "If it sows dissension within the House, that's all to the good. It can't hurt to have the Slytherins at each other's throats."

"It should be Dylan or Theodore that we hex," Stewart suggested. "That way Snape will get drawn into the conflict, whether with Gryffindor or Slytherin. And then maybe he'll slip and show that he's not really so reformed after all."

"The only question is," Isabelle said, "how do we get to their equipment? Our plan will fall apart if we're exposed."

Stewart's face fell. "I hadn't thought about that."

"Well, let me think about it," Isabelle said. "Tristan is a Quidditch player, so he has an excuse to be on the Pitch or in the equipment storage room. Maybe he could manage it."

"Most of the players keep their brooms in their dorm rooms," Stewart told her. "And I hear that the Slytherins are especially paranoid about letting anyone tamper with their broomsticks--probably because they've done it to other players themselves."

*** 

But as it turned out, a perfect opportunity presented itself. Draco's rose-and-ribbon campaign last year had been a huge success among the female students. He had no plans to repeat it this year, however, so the girls at Hogwarts decided to take matters into their own hands. Parvati came up with idea of making ribbon rosettes in House colors to give to a favorite player for good luck.

"Like a lady giving her knight a scarf to wear in battle," she declared dramatically one day in the Great Hall during breakfast, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"It's your own fault," Damien told him cheerfully. "She got the idea from you. Hey, Parvati, you'll make me a rosette, won't you? I'll be your champion!"

"Maybe," she said with a coy smile. "But if you win, my champion, then that means that my House will lose."

Damien went over to the Gryffindor table and went down on one knee beside Parvati as the Gryffindor girls giggled. "Star-crossed lovers," he said dramatically. "What could be more romantic?" 

Parvati laughed at him, but looked pleased. "I'll think about it."

"You carried one of Dylan's roses at last year's match," Damien complained in a plaintive voice.

"I predict that you'll get so many rosettes that you won't be able to get off the ground if you wear them all," a grinning Blaise told Dylan, who looked dismayed and alarmed at the thought.

"This is all your fault," Dylan said to Draco accusingly.

"It's not my fault that you're the most popular boy in the school," Draco protested. "You'd think that your romance with Granger might have put a damper on things."

Isabelle was supposed to meet Gabrielle Delacour afterschool for one of their regular get-togethers to converse in their native language, but the younger girl ran after Isabelle as they left the Great Hall after breakfast to go to class. 

"I just wanted to tell you that I can't meet with you today," Gabrielle said apologetically. "Some of us are getting together to make rosettes for the Quidditch players this afternoon."

"Let me guess," Isabelle said with a smile. "You're making a green and silver rosette for Dylan Rosier." Gabrielle blushed, and Isabelle laughed gently. "Well, he is a very handsome boy."

"He is," Gabrielle said, still blushing, "and he's very nice, too."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Isabelle said. "Would it be all right if I joined you? It sounds like fun."

"Of course!" Gabrielle said, looking flattered. "Professor Flitwick is letting us use the Charms classroom."

"I'll meet you there," Isabelle said.

To Isabelle's delight, Allegra Zabini was there as well, along with some of her Gryffindor friends. Apparently Allegra and Gabrielle had become friends during Herbology class, which the first-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared. Isabelle carefully slipped some hexed ribbons into the piles of ribbons that Allegra and Gabrielle were using when they weren't looking. It wouldn't do for Isabelle to be caught giving a hexed rosette to Dylan, and besides, he would likely get more than he could wear, and he wasn't likely to wear one from a girl that he barely knew. However, he was very fond of Gabrielle and Allegra, and would likely wear their rosettes so as not to hurt their feelings. Allegra was also making rosettes for some of the other Slytherin players, so Isabelle couldn't guarantee that Dylan would be the one to get the hexed ribbons, but it didn't really matter if one of the other players was affected instead, although Snape was more likely to get upset if either Dylan or Theodore was hurt. 

Isabelle handed her own rosette to Dylan later that night, mumbling, "For being so nice to Gabby," and ducking her head as if embarrassed, acting like a shy girl with a crush on the most popular boy in the school. She couldn't quite bring herself to simper and giggle at him the way most of the other girls did, but Dylan seemed to find her act convincing.

"Thank you very much," he said with a polite smile, and Isabelle ran away, still pretending to be embarrassed. When she looked back from a safe distance, she saw that he was dealing with several more blushing and giggling girls handing him rosettes, and had most likely already forgotten about her. Gabrielle and Allegra had already given him their rosettes, and he had promised to tie them to his broom. Now all that was left to do was to wait for Saturday's match and see what happened.

*** 

Lukas normally enjoyed teaching his first-year Physical Defense students, but they were all distracted by the upcoming Quidditch match, and found it difficult to concentrate--all except for Tristan Ames-Diggory. Even though he was just as excited about the match as his classmates, he remained focused and worked hard during class, probably because Lukas had told him that a Quidditch player would benefit from the strength and quick reflexes he was building up in class.

"Well done, Mr. Ames-Diggory," Lukas said at the end of class, and the boy grinned up happily at him like a puppy who had just been patted on the head.

"Thank you, Master Bleddri!"

Lukas sighed inwardly. For some reason that he didn't understand, Tristan had taking a liking to him. Unfortunately, the boy's all-too-familiar features stirred up unpleasant memories for Lukas, but it was hardly fair to hold a grudge against the child for crimes that had been committed by his relatives before he was born. "Ten points to Hufflepuff," Lukas said, and Tristan's smile grew wider. "As for the rest of you," Lukas added sternly, "you had better put more effort into your next session, or I'll be handing out detention--and it would be a shame to miss Saturday's game, wouldn't it?"

He had finally found an effective threat; he wished that he'd thought of it sooner. The students looked horrified and fervently promised to do better next time. "Class dismissed," he said, and they ran out of the room.

Even his fellow teachers could talk of nothing but the upcoming match. Snape and McGonagall had a semi-friendly rivalry going and had wagered fifteen Galleons on the outcome of the game, although Lukas was a little doubtful about how "friendly" the bet really was. Lupin, of course, couldn't wait to see his foster sons play, and the other teachers were speculating on which team would win. Satoshi was making a few wagers of his own.

"Ten Galleons says that Slytherin will win."

"Yeh're on!" Hagrid said. "I almost feel guilty fer stealin' yer money! Gryffindor can't lose; they've got Harry Potter!"

"But they did lose last year, or so I have heard," Satoshi said.

"That play should've been ruled a foul!" Hagrid said indignantly.

Satoshi just smiled. "Harry is a remarkable player, it is true," he said pleasantly, "but I will wager on the slyness and cleverness of the Slytherins."

Lukas smiled a little. It figured that Satoshi, whose people used their magic and shape-shifting ability to beguile and play pranks on humans, would favor the House known for their deception and tendency to bend the rules. He briefly considered warning Hagrid that the tanuki had a reputation for swindling people out of their money, but Satoshi had been teaching here for almost a year, and if Hagrid hadn't figured it out by now, that was his problem. 

You'd think he would have been a little more cautious, especially after that little incident where Satoshi had gotten into hot water for teaching the students to "counterfeit" money by teaching them to turn bottlecaps into coins. Lukas hadn't been here back then, but Remus had told him about it, and the students still talked about it; they all thought it had been hilarious to see a teacher get in trouble and be hauled before the Headmaster by McGonagall like an errant student. Satoshi wasn't offended, and would chuckle about it himself if anyone brought the subject up.

"What about you, Lukas?" Satoshi asked. "Would you care to make a little bet on the game?"

"I'm not fool enough to give a tanuki my money," Lukas replied dryly, and Satoshi laughed good-naturedly. "Besides, I'm not a big Quidditch fan; I probably won't even go to the game."

"Oh, but you must come," Lupin urged. "You have to see Dylan and Theo play!"

"They're not my cubs, Lupin. I'm sure it will be sufficient for you and Snape to cheer them on."

"But it's all part of the Hogwarts experience!" Satoshi said enthusiastically. "You've got to embrace it!"

Lukas snorted derisively, but Dumbledore said cheerfully, "Master Satoshi is right. You should attend the game. Perhaps it will help you understand your students' enthusiasm for it a little, and who knows--you might actually like it."

"I was hired to teach," Lukas said stubbornly. "There's nothing in my contract about attending sporting events."

"Nevertheless," Dumbledore said gently, "I am ordering you to go the Quidditch match on Saturday. Have some fun, Lukas."

"Is that an order, too?" he asked sarcastically.

"Just a suggestion," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Fine," Lukas said sulkily. "I'll go, but I don't intend to have any fun."

"That would be a pity, my boy, but it's your choice."

If Lukas had been in his wolf form, he would have bitten his employer. He growled softly, still tempted to do it anyway. Snape gave him a sympathetic look, then muttered under his breath, "It's nice to see the old man getting on someone else's nerves for a change."

*** 

Snape and Lupin took their seats in the teachers' stand on Saturday morning. Lupin was wearing both red-and-gold and silver-and-green rosettes pinned to his blue robes, and was carrying a Gryffindor pennant in his left hand, and a Slytherin pennant in his right hand.

"You know, perhaps you're taking this fairness thing a little too far," Snape grumbled good-naturedly.

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Lupin said cheerfully. "Besides, why aren't you waving a Slytherin pennant? You are the Head of House and the father of two of the players, after all."

"Because it's beneath my dignity to wave a silly flag around, Lupin," Snape retorted. "And because it isn't necessary; the Slytherins know that I'm rooting for them." He looked up and called out to McGonagall, who was sitting with Dumbledore a few rows above them, "I hope you have your fifteen Galleons ready, Minerva!"

"I hope you have yours ready, Severus!" McGonagall retorted. "Because Gryffindor is going to win this year! My players won't be fooled by a trick play the way they were last year!"

"You Gryffindors are such sore losers," Snape muttered, then turned towards Lupin as the werewolf nudged him in the side. Lupin pointed down, and surprise and consternation filled Snape's face as he saw his mother making her way up the stands towards them. 

"You look lovely, Lady Selima," Lupin told her, and it was true. She was dressed in Slytherin colors: a green velvet robe embroidered with silver trim along the edges, silver-and-emerald necklace and earrings, and emerald-studded silver combs that swept her dark hair back from her face. The rest of her hair fell loose across her shoulders, and even the silver strands scattered among the black seemed to complement her outfit. She looked beautiful and elegant, and carried herself with her usual dignified grace. "You must have been a real heartbreaker in your schoolgirl days," Lupin said with a mischievous grin.

"You flatter me, Professor," Selima said lightly, and Snape scowled at her suspiciously.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" he asked.

"I have come to see my grandson play Quidditch, of course," Selima replied innocently. 

"This is the teachers' stand," Snape told her sourly. "You should be sitting with the other parents and relatives in the Slytherin section. Even Black is sitting with the Gryffindors, not here with the teachers." It annoyed him a little that Branwen was sitting with her husband among the Gryffindors, although like Lupin, she was holding both Gryffindor and Slytherin pennants. Still, he supposed that she was obligated to show some support for her step-godson.

"Well, forgive me for breaking with protocol," Selima said, sounding a little miffed. "I didn't think it would do any harm to sit with my son during the match, and besides, I didn't feel like being polite to the Parkinsons and Baddocks today."

Lupin regarded Selima with sympathy, but Snape gave his mother another suspicious look. His mother had come to see him play Quidditch as a student, even if that had been at least twenty years ago, and she knew perfectly well that family members sat in the House sections of the stands. Lady Selima never broke protocol, and she had never before let the fact that she disliked certain members of the pureblood elite stop her from socializing with them.

"She had might as well stay," Lupin said. "She won't be able to make it to the Slytherin stand before the game starts."

"Yes, please stay, Lady Selima," Dumbledore said pleasantly, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses. "There's no need to stand on protocol, and I'm sure that Severus will be glad of your company."

Snape was not glad of her company, and he glared at the meddling old wizard, but there was nothing else he could do about it, since the Headmaster had given his permission for Selima to stay. "Thank you, Headmaster," Selima said sweetly, and took a seat next to Snape. "Will you introduce me to your colleagues, Severus? I believe I know most of them, but I see a few unfamiliar faces here..."

"Master Satoshi just started teaching Illusion classes here last year," Snape said. "I believe you met him briefly at the funeral. Master Satoshi, this is my mother, Lady Selima Snape."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the plump Japanese man said, taking Selima's hand, bowing over it dramatically and kissing her fingertips. "But you can't possibly be Professor Snape's mother--you're much too young and beautiful!"

"Oh, what a flatterer you are!" Selima said with a smile. "I don't believe a word of it!"

"You wound me, my Lady!" Satoshi protested, clutching at his chest as if his heart were breaking.

Snape scowled at the Illusions teacher; even if Satoshi was only acting according to his mischievous tanuki nature, it was still disconcerting for Snape to see one of his colleagues flirting with his mother. "And this is Master Bleddri," he growled, indicating Lukas, who was sitting next to Lupin, slouched down with his long blond hair falling across his face. "Our Physical Defense and Interspecies Relations instructor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Selima said politely. The werewolf just nodded at her curtly, then looked away, bending his head and allowing his hair to fall forward and obscure his features again. Strangely enough, Selima made no comment about Bleddri's rude behavior, and neither did she seem offended by it.

Before Snape had time to reflect on her unusual behavior, though, the game began, with the two teams walking onto the Pitch, their robes and broomsticks bedecked with ribbons--Harry and Dylan had the most. "I want a nice fair game from all of you," Madam Hooch told the players, as she did at the start of every match, although her voice always seemed to be a little more stern when addressing the Slytherins. "Mount your brooms." The players did, and Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and both teams rose into the air.

The Creevey brothers were up in the announcer's booth by the scoreboard; Dennis had been given the announcer job after Lee Jordan graduated, and Colin was taking pictures of the match for the school paper. Jarrett Jordan had been petitioning for his cousin's old job, but McGonagall had wanted to see him gain a little more experience first, and his involvement in the prank on Portia Pettigrew had certainly done nothing to make his Head of House change her mind.

"And they're off!" Dennis shouted. "Dean Thomas takes possession of the Quaffle--oops, no, Dylan Rosier just swooped down and snatched it away from him! Good play, Rosier, even if it is against my own House."

"Hey, whose side are you on?" someone cried from the Gryffindor stand.

"I just call it like I see it," Dennis retorted. "Rosier's heading down the Pitch towards the goal posts--ooh, he just barely evaded that Bludger; nice bit of maneuvering there. Ginny Weasley's hot on his tail--"

"Hey, that sounds kind of obscene!" someone called from the Slytherin stand.

"Only if you have a dirty mind!" Dennis shot back, blushing a little. "Rosier's passing the Quaffle to Theodore Nott--I mean, Snape--and he's throwing it towards the goal--no, it was a feint to distract Keeper Ron Weasley--now he's throwing it towards the other goal--Slytherin scores!"

The Gryffindors groaned, and the Slytherins cheered. Up in the teachers' stand, Snape shouted, "Yes!" and Lupin waved his green-and-silver pennant in the air, shouting, "Great play, Dylan and Theo!" Even Lady Selima seemed to be getting caught up in the excitement, and applauded enthusiastically, although it seemed to be beneath her dignity to shout encouragement at her grandson.

"Shall we make a little side wager, Sev?" Lupin murmured into Snape's ear. "That a certain Potions Master shall 'score' in the bedroom tonight if Slytherin wins the match?"

"Behave yourself, Lupin," Snape hissed, glancing over at his mother to see if she'd heard, but her attention was still fixed on the Pitch. "Besides, you're not going to bet against Slytherin, are you?"

"Indeed not," Lupin said with a grin. "I want you to win this wager!"

"Come on, Gryffindor," Dennis urged. "Time to even the score!"

"Dennis!" McGonagall shouted.

"Oops, right, the announcer is supposed to be impartial. Anyway, Ginny Weasley takes possession of the Quaffle; she's heading towards the Slytherin goals. Damien Pierce is going after her--a Bludger comes flying his way--ouch, that's gotta hurt!" Damien nearly tumbled off his broom, but just barely managed to hang on, gripping the broom with his legs and left hand--his right arm was dangling at his side. "It looks like Pierce is injured; I think his arm might be broken. Pierce is quitting the field, and Malcolm Baddock is taking his place. Meanwhile Ginny's aiming for the Slytherin goal--oh!" A collective groan arose from the Gryffindor stand. "New Keeper Millicent Bulstrode manages to deflect it! Now Rosier's got the Quaffle again--"

The game continued, with the two Seekers circling the Pitch, ignoring most of the action taking place below them. Seamus was hit in the head by a Bludger, but although he seemed a little dazed, insisted that he was fine and refused to quit the Pitch. The Gryffindor Beaters seemed to be trying especially hard to hit Dylan, but he nimbly avoided the Bludger each time. Gryffindor had a foul called against them when Dean deliberately slammed into Theodore when he was reaching for the Quaffle, and Slytherin also had a foul called against them when Goyle slammed his considerable bulk into Jack Sloper when the Gryffindor Beater began shouting insults at him. Goyle ignored the catcalls of "Death Eater!" and "Your dad's in prison!" but when Jack shouted, "Your mama was a mountain troll!" Goyle finally lost his temper.

Jack suddenly realized that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all when he saw Goyle heading towards him like a cannonball, but it was too late to get out of the way.

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch called, but that was small consolation to Jack, who was taken off the field on a stretcher; Goyle was undamaged. Gryffindor was allowed a penalty shot, which tied both teams at fifty points each.

The Snitch came into view just as Isabelle whispered a brief incantation under her breath, gripping her wand beneath the folds of her robe. None of the other Hufflepuff spectators noticed, as their attention was riveted on the Pitch, except for Tristan, who had been informed by Isabelle and Stewart about the secret plan. He grinned, and waited eagerly for the dormant hex to be activated.

Just by chance, Dylan had received all the hexed ribbons. He wore a rosette from Hermione pinned to his chest, and he had tied several others, including the ones from Allegra and Gabrielle, to the handle of his broomstick. Suddenly the broom began to jerk and buck, nearly throwing Dylan off; he held on with just one hand and frantically tried to pull himself back up, but his efforts were hindered by the bucking motion of the broomstick, and the way it was zigzagging through the air of its own accord.

"Dylan!" Theodore shouted. He had the Quaffle in his hands, but immediately dropped it and flew off in pursuit of his foster brother. Millicent abandoned her post to help him, and Malcolm, Crabbe, and Goyle joined her. Unfortunately, that meant there was no one to control the Slytherin Bludger.

"Look out!" Ginny screamed, as the Bludger headed straight for Theodore's head; he just barely ducked in time. Crabbe and Goyle flew after the Bludger, trying to catch it and wrestle it to the ground. Meanwhile, Ginny, Ron, and Seamus joined Theodore, Millicent, and Malcolm in trying to help Dylan. Dean and Andrew just sat on their brooms looking stunned, not knowing what to do.

In the teachers' stand, Snape shouted at Lupin, "See if you can find out who's casting the hex!" then began chanting a counter-curse. Professor Flitwick immediately offered Lupin the binoculars he was using, and Lupin took it and scanned the crowd. 

"I don't see anyone who seems to be chanting an incantation," Lupin said in a worried voice. He spotted Aric in the Slytherin stand, but Theodore's cousin seemed to be just as surprised as everyone else, and he definitely wasn't casting a spell: his hands were empty, and his mouth was hanging open in shock. Feeling a little guilty for suspecting members of his own House, he scanned the Gryffindor stand next, but saw only students shouting in fear and surprise. 

Fighting a rapidly growing sense of panic, he scanned the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands, but couldn't find the culprit among them, either. In desperation, he even looked among the teachers, remembering how Quirrell had once hexed Harry during a Quidditch match, but none of them seemed to be casting a spell. They were all pointing and shouting and arguing about what they should do.

"I predicted he would face great danger," Trelawney said almost triumphantly.

"Oh, shut up, you silly cow, and do something useful!" Lukas snapped. Trelawney glared at him indignantly, but he ignored her, and jumped up and ran down the stairs towards the Pitch. Lupin hesitated, then ran after him. Selima stayed behind, joining her son in chanting the counter-curse.

Meanwhile, Harry and Draco had been intent on pursuing the Snitch, and it took them a few minutes to notice the commotion going on below. When Harry saw Dylan fighting to keep his grip on the broomstick, he instantly abandoned the chase and flew down to help. Draco hesitated for a moment, torn between helping his friend and taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to catch the Snitch and win the game. A true Slytherin would go after the Snitch; it was every man for himself in Slytherin, and besides, it was the teachers' responsibility to deal with a situation like this. But then Draco remembered how Dylan had stood by him and offered to be his friend--a real friend--after the Malfoy family had been disgraced and Draco had lost all his former sycophants. He gave the Snitch one last, wistful look, then flew down after Potter.

Madam Hooch and most of the players were trying to help Dylan, but it wasn't easy, as the broom darted through the air, zigging and zagging seemingly at random. Theodore managed to get close enough to grab Dylan's broomstick and try to steady it, but it jerked upward, and he lost his grip and nearly fell off his own broom.

Dylan was still hanging onto the broom with one hand, but his fingers, slick with sweat, were slowly losing their grip. Ron pulled up alongside him and shouted, "Grab my hand, Rosier!" He held out his hand, and Dylan reached for it, but his broom suddenly swooped downwards, and his fingers slipped out of Ron's grasp.

Meanwhile, Dennis was keeping up a running commentary, and Colin continued to snap pictures. "Rosier's broom is out of control! Could it be Dark Magic, perhaps the same hex that was cast on Harry Potter's broom during his first Quidditch match? Oh no--Rosier's lost his grip on the broom!"

The broomstick bucked violently, and Dylan finally lost his hold on the broom. He screamed as he hurtled towards the ground. In the stands, Snape broke off his counter-curse and shouted out a levitation spell to try and halt Dylan's fall, but he was too far away for the spell to take effect. In the Slytherin stand, Goewin screamed in fear and despair as she watched her great-nephew fall. Damien was sitting on the sidelines, watching in horror--he had refused to leave until the game was over, forcing a grumbling Madam Pomfrey to treat him on the field. Lukas grabbed Damien's broom and jumped on it, cursing under his breath because he knew he would be too late. Lupin pulled out his wand, trying to think of a spell that would save his son, but was hindered by the frantic howling of the wolf inside his head.

As if they had rehearsed it, Draco and Harry dove down in unison and each grabbed hold of one of Dylan's arms. He cried out in pain as the sudden jolt nearly wrenched his arms out of his sockets, but he smiled at them gratefully. Down on the field, Lupin fell to his knees and began to weep. Lukas landed beside him, whispering, "Thank Merlin." Draco and Harry slowly descended, and gently lowered Dylan to the ground. Theodore and the other players who had been trying to rescue Dylan landed, looking relieved.

As Lupin grabbed Dylan and held him tightly, the Snitch suddenly flew down and hovered right in front of Harry and Draco. It seemed to be meekly waiting to be taken. The two boys stared at each other for a moment.

"Shall we do it together?" Harry suggested with a smile.

As Draco watched a sobbing Lupin embrace Dylan, winning the game no longer seemed so important to him, somehow. Draco shrugged and said, "Sure, why not?" Then he and Harry slowly reached out and grasped hold of the Snitch simultaneously.

Unbeknownst to them, Dean had finally come out of his state of shock, and noticed that the Quaffle and the Slytherin goals were unattended. He grabbed the Quaffle and tossed it through one of the hoops, just before Harry and Draco took hold of the Snitch. The scoreboard automatically recorded ten points for Gryffindor, although only one person other than Dean noticed this.

"A tie?" a bewildered Hooch said, scratching her head. "I'm not sure such a thing has ever happened before. Is it even legal for two people to take possession of the Snitch at the same time?" She pulled the rule book out of her pocket and began flipping through it.

For once, Snape cared nothing about the results of the match. "Dylan!" he shouted, his black eyes still wild with fear. "Are you all right?"

Lupin smiled, although tears were still trickling down his face, and released Dylan, who said, "I'm fine, Professor." He didn't have a chance to say anything else because, to his shock, Snape grabbed him and pulled him close, fervently whispering, "Thank God, thank God," over and over again. Dylan smiled and leaned against his foster father's chest, as Snape, who was never demonstrative with his affections, especially in public, held him tightly and stroked his hair as he continued to whisper, "Thank God, oh thank God, I thought I'd lost you." 

Goewin ran out of the stands, and since Snape didn't seem inclined to let go of Dylan, she flung her arms around them both, weeping hysterically. A much calmer Math cradled Ariana in one arm as he brushed tears from his eyes with his free hand, smiling tenderly at his wife and great-nephew. Little Ariana cooed and gurgled contentedly. Hermione came down from the stands, too, and just stood on the sidelines, smiling and weeping a little as she watched Snape and Goewin hold Dylan. Lupin gently slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other around Theodore, who stood there grinning and looking a little teary-eyed himself.

Hooch couldn't find anything in the rule book about two people grabbing the Snitch at the same time, and was about to declare the game a tie when the spectators began shouting and pointing at the scoreboard, which read: Gryffindor 210, Slytherin 200. "Gryffindor won?" she asked in confusion. "But they were tied before Potter and Malfoy took the Snitch."

Colin Creevey, looking pale and troubled, came running down from the stands, holding up a photograph in one hand. He handed it to Hooch; it showed Dean tossing the Quaffle through the goal.

"You tricked me!" a furious Draco screamed at Harry, but to his surprise, Harry looked just as shocked and angry as he did.

Harry snatched the photo out of Hooch's hand and shoved it in Dean's face accusingly. "Is this true, Thomas? Did you score a goal while everyone was trying to save Dylan?"

"Yeah," Dean said, seeming puzzled by Harry's anger. "I thought you'd be glad--I won the game for us!"

"Be glad?" Harry shouted, looking outraged. "That you cheated?!"

"I didn't cheat!" Dean said defensively.

"What else do you call it, when the Slytherin goal was left unattended because the Keeper was trying to save someone's life?" Harry retorted. "You should have been trying to help Dylan, too, instead of throwing the Quaffle through an unguarded hoop! Do you think that's good sportsmanship? Do you think that's honorable? How dare you call yourself a Gryffindor!" As Dean spluttered, looking both angry and guilty, Harry turned to Hooch and said, "We'll forfeit the game. I don't want to win this way."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Andrew Kirke said indignantly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Hooch said. "Although what Mr. Thomas did is not very sporting--" She frowned at him disapprovingly. "--I'm afraid that it is not illegal." She raised her voice and announced, "Gryffindor wins the match!" 

"Gryffindor wins by ten points," Dennis said in a subdued voice. "But it doesn't seem like a clean victory. I have to say that, as a Gryffindor, I feel a little ashamed."

"No!" Harry protested. "It's not right!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Hooch said, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically. 

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said helplessly. "I swear, I wouldn't have suggested going for a tie if I knew Dean had done that!"

His face was filled with such anguish that even Draco believed he was sincere. "I believe you, Potter," he said. "My quarrel's not with you, at least not this time." He glared at Dean. "But you'd best watch your step, Thomas."

"I'm so scared," Dean sneered.

"You're off the team!" Harry shouted.

"What?"

"You heard me, you're off the team! We don't need someone like you playing for us!"

"Listen, Harry," Ron said quietly but urgently, tugging at his sleeve. "Maybe you'd better wait till you cool down a little before making a decision like that. Maybe you could just suspend him--"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Dean protested.

"You are off the team," Harry said in a cold voice. "That's final."

Dean stared at him in shock, then abruptly turned and stalked off the field without another word. 

"You don't have the right to throw him off the team like that!" Andrew argued.

Harry turned his cold stare on Andrew. At the moment, he looked more like Snape than his normal good-natured and mischievous self. "I'm the team captain and I just did. If you don't like it, you can leave, too."

Andrew opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it, and turned and walked away. Ginny stared at Harry wide-eyed; while she didn't disagree with his decision, that look of cold fury in his eyes scared her a little. She suddenly remembered what he had once said about having to embrace both his Gryffindor and Slytherin sides to defeat Voldemort, and she wondered if what she was seeing now was his Slytherin side.

Snape had finally released Dylan, and was staring at Harry thoughtfully. Dylan went over to Harry and held out his hand, wincing a little at the pain in his arm. "Thank you for saving my life, Harry." 

Harry blinked, and the cold look on his face suddenly vanished. "Uh...you're welcome," he said awkwardly, shaking Dylan's hand. "I mean, it's nothing that anyone else wouldn't have done."

"That's not true," Draco pointed out dryly. "Thomas and Kirke didn't lift a finger to help him."

"And thank you, Draco," Dylan said. "I owe you my life."

"Never mind," Draco said gruffly. "I owed you one, so now we're even."

"Well," Snape said slowly, looking both amused and annoyed, "it seems that I am beholden to a Potter yet again."

"You don't owe me anything, really, Professor," Harry said nervously.

"Do you think my foster son's life means so little to me?" Snape asked, giving him a scornful look, but Lupin smiled and winked at Harry behind Snape's back. "A Snape honors his debts, and I acknowledge that I owe you a debt for saving Dylan's life." Snape then turned to Draco, and the corners of his mouth turned up just a little. "And while I find it nearly as troubling to find myself owing a favor to the Malfoy family, I acknowledge that I am in your debt as well, Draco."

Draco grinned at him and said, "Yes, sir."

"Notice," Lupin said to Harry in a stage whisper, "that a Slytherin doesn't try to reject a favor. He'll save it, and claim it sometime in the future when he really needs it."

"You're starting to scare me, Lupin," Snape told his lover. "You understand the Slytherin mindset a little too well for a Gryffindor." Lupin laughed, and Snape smiled sardonically and said, "Fifty points to Slytherin and fifty to Gryffindor."

"Sir?" Harry, Draco, and Dylan chorused, staring at him in shock.

"Don't you think that your life is worth at least fifty points, Mr. Rosier?" Snape asked Dylan mildly, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh...no, sir...I mean, yes, sir..."

"He's worth a thousand points!" Lupin declared, throwing his arms around Dylan.

"Yes, I think so, too," Snape said, smiling a little. "But I think the other Houses might object to my handing out that many points."

"By the way, what happened to my broom?" Dylan asked. 

Crabbe approached him, an apologetic look on his face, and held out one piece of the broomstick in each hand. "Sorry, Rosier. After you fell off the broom, it took a nosedive and snapped in two."

"Oh, no!" Dylan cried in dismay.

"Better the broom than your neck, Mr. Rosier," Snape said impatiently. "I'll buy you another."

"It was just a Cleansweep," Dylan said softly. "Not a Nimbus or a Firebolt, but it meant a lot to me, because Mother and Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin gave it to me. It was the last Christmas we ever spent together..."

"Oh, Dylan," Goewin whispered sadly.

Snape's expression softened, and he said in a much gentler voice, "I'm sorry, Dylan. I didn't know it was a gift from your mother. But no matter how much sentimental value it has, a broom can be replaced; you cannot. I assure you that Ariane would much rather have you in one piece than the broom."

Dylan managed a smile. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess you're right."

"You have your memories of your mother here," Lupin said gently, laying his hand first on Dylan's head, then on his chest, over his heart. "And here. They will always be with you."

"I know, Remus," Dylan said softly. "Thank you." 

By now, the other teachers had joined them on the Pitch, as well as Sirius. "Are you all right, Dylan?" Branwen asked anxiously.

"Yes, Professor, I'm fine," Dylan replied, then winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Well, my arms hurt a little, but it beats the alternative."

"You'd better have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you," Branwen said.

"Come along to the hospital wing, Mr. Rosier," Pomfrey said.

"But I'm okay, really--" Dylan started to protest.

"You will go with Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing," Snape ordered in his sternest Potions Master voice.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said meekly, then ruined the effect by grinning widely at his foster father. But he did follow Pomfrey back to the castle without further argument.

"Thank goodness Mr. Rosier is all right," McGonagall said. "But who could have done such a thing?" The teachers stared at each other, looking troubled; they all remembered who had been responsible for Harry's "accident" six years ago.

"Voldemort is dead," Branwen finally said. "And the Death Eaters are dead or in prison."

"Except for Rabastan Lestrange," Sirius reminded her.

"He's most likely hiding in some remote corner of the world," Branwen replied, "cowering in fear if he hasn't heard that his Master is dead yet. To escape the Dark Lord's grasp, he would have to run very far, where it would be difficult to find copies of the Daily Prophet, and he wouldn't dare make contact with the wizarding world. Even if he did come back to take revenge and somehow managed to sneak into Hogwarts, why would he attack Dylan? His most likely targets would be Harry and Severus."

"Perhaps he might try to hurt Dylan because he's Snape's foster son?" Sirius guessed.

Snape frowned. "Possibly, but this doesn't seem like Rabastan's modus operandi. The Lestranges liked to torture people with Unforgivable Curses; Rabastan would regard a fall from a broomstick as too quick and painless a death." Theodore went pale and Harry shuddered. "This seems more like a nasty but childish prank played by a student."

"Aric!" Theodore exclaimed. "It must be him! He's been out to get me ever since he came to Hogwarts, and I've seen him at some of the practices, watching in the stands!"

Lupin shook his head. "No, I saw him in the stands, and he looked just as shocked as everyone else."

"He could have been pretending to be shocked," Theodore argued.

Lupin smiled a little. "Your cousin isn't that good an actor, Theo. While his intentions might not always be honorable, he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve--almost like a Gryffindor, come to think of it--and he's not very good at hiding his emotions. Besides, if he was going to hex someone, why would he hex Dylan instead of you?"

Theodore reluctantly nodded, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "But who could it be, then?"

"What about that kid who gave Avery's mother a hard time?" Crabbe suggested. "The one who said he wouldn't let a Death Eater wait on him?"

"Stewart?" Lupin asked, frowning. "I wasn't looking for him specifically, but I didn't see anyone casting a spell from the Ravenclaw stand."

"The spell might already have been placed on the broom," Snape said thoughtfully.

"I know that Stewart has been troubled lately, and he got a little out of hand in Hogsmeade," Flitwick protested, looking offended, "but he's always been a model student! It's a bit extreme to accuse him of killing someone just because he was rude to Delia Avery!" 

Selima joined the crowd of teachers and students on the Pitch. "What kind of school are you running?" she demanded of the Headmaster. "How could you put my..." Her voice suddenly faltered and she flushed a little. 

"Did you mean to say 'my grandson'?" Lupin murmured into her ear with a mischievous smile.

Selima glared at him. "How could you put my son's ward in such danger?" she finished in a cold voice.

"Nice save," Lupin said under his breath, causing Selima to glare at him again.

"What if it had been Theodore who was nearly killed?" Selima continued, turning back to Dumbledore. "I won't allow my grandson to attend a school that isn't safe!"

"That's not your decision, Mother," Snape said.

"Then you don't care that Dylan was nearly killed?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Well, what do you intend to do about this?" Selima demanded, addressing both her son and Dumbledore.

"I want to know the answer to that also," Goewin said, looking fierce and protective. 

"We will investigate the matter thoroughly and punish the person responsible," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Starting by examining Dylan's broomstick for hexes." 

"Here, let me take it," Branwen said, and Crabbe gave her the broken pieces of the broom. "I'll go back to the castle and get started on it right away."

"I'll help you," Sirius said, and Flitwick and McGonagall volunteered as well. "By the way, Harry," Sirius said before he left, "I'm very proud of you. I'd like to say that I would have done the same thing when I was your age, but I'm afraid it's much more likely that I'd have done something stupid like Dean did. But you're mature enough to know that a person's life is much more important than winning a game." He hugged Harry. "I'm so proud of you, Harry, and I think your dad would be, too."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said, tears stinging his eyes.

"Don't be too hard on Dean, okay?" Sirius whispered. "Well, you should probably be a little hard on him, but what I mean to say is--I was young and stupid once, too, so I don't think he's a lost cause. Maybe you can help him smarten up a bit."

"I'll try," Harry said.

Sirius hugged him again. "I've got to go help Branwen, but I'm staying for dinner tonight, so I'll see you then."

*** 

Meanwhile, up in the Hufflepuff stand, Gwendolyn Ames frowned as she stared through her binoculars down at the field. "Tristan," she said to her son, "who is that man standing next to the Headmaster? The one with the long blond hair?"

"Oh, that's Master Bleddri," Tristan replied. "He's the Physical Defense teacher."

"It's a waste of time to teach Physical Defense to wizards," Amos Diggory said sharply. "And he's a werewolf--I'm still appalled that Dumbledore would let a dangerous monster run loose among the children. You should have sent Tristan to Beauxbatons, Gwen."

"He can't speak French, Amos."

"Well, the Salem Witches' Institute in the States, then."

"I could never send my baby boy so far away," Gwendolyn protested.

"Mum!" Tristan said indignantly, his face turning red.

"Now, now," Robert Ames said mildly. "All the Ames and Diggorys have always attended Hogwarts, and I see no reason to break with tradition. I'm sure that Dumbledore wouldn't allow this Bleddri to teach here if he was dangerous. Isn't he supposed to be a hero of the war?"

"If you believe the Daily Prophet," Amos said bitterly. "The same paper that said Cedric's death was an accident."

"Everyone knows the truth now," Helen Diggory said gently, laying her hand on her husband's arm.

"I like Master Bleddri," Tristan told his uncle. "He's a nice guy, really, even if he is kind of strict. I like the Physical Defense classes, they're a lot of fun, and Master Bleddri says it's good training for an athlete like a Quidditch player."

"I can't wait to see you play, son," Robert said proudly. "Imagine, being made Seeker your first year!"

"Cedric would be so happy for you, dear," Helen said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I'll try to become as good a Seeker as he was," Tristan said solemnly. Helen smiled and Robert ruffled his son's hair affectionately, but Gwendolyn kept staring down at the field, and Amos stared at his sister, a worried frown on his face.

*** 

Now that Dylan was safe and the game was over, the crowd began to disperse, and Dumbledore told the players to return to their dorms. Lukas turned to go back to the castle as well, when Selima suddenly cried out in a clear voice that rang loudly enough to carry into the stands, "Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory!"

Everyone stopped in their tracks and turned to stare at Selima, including Lukas. "Master Bleddri's a Gravenor?" Theodore asked incredulously of no one in particular. "And a Diggory?"

"Oh no," Lupin muttered, then glared at Snape. "I told you that you shouldn't have gotten your mother involved in this!"

"Clearly you have mistaken me for someone else," Lukas said in a cold voice.

"There is no mistake, Cyril," Selima said firmly. "You are the spitting image of your father. You are Cynric Diggory's heir."

"He really is the Diggory heir," Snape said, looking a little stunned. It was one thing to suspect it, and quite another to have it confirmed in so dramatic a fashion.

"This is ridiculous," Lukas said. "I am a werewolf of ill repute and nothing more. Take your little fantasies elsewhere, Lady Selima."

"Why do you deny your heritage and your birthright, Cyril?" Selima continued implacably.

"What do you care about my birthright?" Lukas snarled.

"Your parents were my friends," Selima said quietly. "If their deaths were not caused by accident or illness, but by malice, then I wish to see them avenged."

"This is none of your business!" Lukas snapped. "And I want nothing to do with any of you purebloods!" He turned to walk away, but came to an abrupt halt when a pretty brown-haired woman came running out of the stands towards him and flung her arms around him.

"Cyril, oh Cyril, it really is you!" Gwendolyn Ames sobbed. "All these years, I thought you were dead!"

Lukas stared at her helplessly, holding his arms out at his side, unwilling to either embrace her or push her away. "Gwennie?" he said weakly.

Gwendolyn's family came running after her; Robert, Tristan, and Helen looked bewildered, while Amos looked angry and frightened. "Mum?" Tristan asked. "What's going on? Do you know Master Bleddri? And why are you calling him 'Cyril'?"

"Because that's his name," Gwendolyn said, laughing and crying at the same time. 

"Gwen," Lukas said, still holding his arms out at his side. "Please don't...I'm not who you think I am..."

"I know who you are!" Gwendolyn insisted. She released him, but before he could back away, reached up and cradled his face lovingly between her hands. "You are my nephew, my childhood playmate, my oldest brother's son."

"WHAT?!" shrieked Tristan, and Robert's jaw fell open.

"But I don't understand," Gwendolyn said. "How is it that you are alive when we all thought you were dead? Why didn't you tell anyone that you were alive?" 

"Why don't you ask Uncle Amos that?" Lukas said with a bitter smile.

"Amos?" Gwendolyn said, looking confused. "You knew he was alive?"

Amos grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from Lukas. "Get away from him, Gwen! He's a werewolf, a monster!"

Gwendolyn looked into her brother's eyes and saw that he was angry but not surprised. "You knew!" She said accusingly. "You knew that he was alive, and you never told me? How could you let me think that he was dead all these years?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Amos snapped. "He's obviously an impostor!"

"Amos!" Robert said. "What is going on here?"

Selima watched all this with a small, satisfied smile on her face. 

"This is why you came to the match, isn't it?" Snape asked her. 

"Well, I would still have come to see Theodore play," she said calmly. "But yes, I did want to get a look at 'Master Bleddri'. After your questions about your mysterious friend, I did a little research and went through some back issues of the Daily Prophet, and noticed that the leader of the werewolves bore a most uncanny resemblance to Cynric Diggory."

"He doesn't look like a Diggory," Snape said.

"Cynric was the only one in the family with blond hair," Selima replied. "He was quite a handsome lad. Still, it's impossible to be certain from a photograph, so I wanted to see him in person."

"You could have spoken to Lukas in private instead of shouting it out to everyone at the game," Lupin chided.

Selima smiled. "Ah, but what fun would that be, Professor Lupin? Besides, I also wanted to see Amos's reaction."   Lupin sighed and shook his head. "Well, you've certainly opened up a can of worms!" Then he looked over at Dumbledore who was watching all of this calmly, a look of mild interest on his face. Lupin frowned suspiciously as a thought suddenly occurred to him: Cynric Diggory must have been going to Hogwarts around the same time as Selima, so Dumbledore would have been his teacher as well. He walked over to Dumbledore and whispered, "Albus, did you know? That Lukas was really Cyril Diggory?"

"Well, I never asked," Dumbledore replied, "and he never volunteered the information. But he does bear a striking resemblance to Cynric. I'm sure that anyone who knew his father would have noticed."

"Is that why you brought him here?" Lupin asked; Dumbledore just smiled. 

"Meddling old man," Snape muttered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lupin demanded. "Or at least talk to Lukas about it?"

"Because it's none of our business, my boy."

"That never stopped you before," Snape muttered.

"It was Lukas's decision," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the interruption, "to contact his family and declare his true identity--or not."

"But with Tristan going to school here, you knew he'd come into contact with the Diggorys eventually," Lupin accused.

"I hadn't counted on Lady Selima getting involved, though," Dumbledore said. 

Selima smiled again, and Snape looked over at the Diggory family and said, "Well, this should be interesting..."

"He's not an impostor!" Gwendolyn was shouting at her brother. "I know my own flesh and blood when I see it! How could you lie to me? How could you let me think Cyril was dead?" A sudden look of hope filled her eyes. "If Cyril is alive, then does that mean Cynric...?"

"No, Gwennie," Lukas said, in a voice gentler than anyone had ever heard him use before. "My father--and my mother--truly are dead."

Gwendolyn burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Amos tried to put his arms around her, but she pulled away from him. Her husband tried to comfort her, and Tristan, still looking bewildered, said, "Mum? Master Bleddri? I don't understand what's going on here..."

Lukas sighed wearily. "Things that happened long before you were born, child. Things that don't concern you."

"Are you really my mother's nephew?" Tristan asked timidly. "Wouldn't that make you my cousin?"

Amos put his arms around his nephew protectively and pulled him away from Lukas. "Stay away from my family, werewolf!"

Lukas snarled and bared his teeth. "You will stay away from _me_ , if you know what's good for you, Amos!"

Amos turned pale and hastily backed away. "Did you see that?" he asked the crowd of teachers and students. "He threatened me! You'd better put your pet werewolf on a leash, Dumbledore, or I'll see that he's sent to Azkaban!"

"Interesting that you should mention Azkaban," Selima purred, stepping forward. "Tell me, Amos, how did Cynric really die?"

"He died in a carriage crash!"

"Yes, that is what you told everyone...but then, you also told everyone that Cyril died in that same crash, and he's standing here before us alive and well, isn't he?"

"Stop calling me 'Cyril,'" Lukas said irritably.

"It is your true name, no matter what you choose to call yourself," Selima told him in a cool voice. "How did your father die, Cyril?"

"I don't know," Lukas replied quietly. "My father did go out in a carriage on a stormy night; that much is true. They brought his body back to the house later that night, saying that the carriage had crashed. That is all I know."

"Why?" Gwendolyn cried out. "Why did you lie, Amos? Why did you tell everyone that Cyril had died, too?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Selima asked. "Your family did not want a werewolf to inherit the title."

The remaining spectators in the stands and the players down on the field were watching the argument between the Diggory family with avid fascination. "Man, this is even more exciting than the game!" Crabbe said.

"Very interesting," Draco murmured, a speculative look in his eyes. "A werewolf being heir to a pureblood family...I wonder how this will turn out?" 

Gwendolyn was staring at her brother with a horrified look in her eyes, and Amos said defensively, "We couldn't let a werewolf inherit the title! It would have disgraced the Diggory name! And soon there would have been nothing left to inherit, because Cynric was squandering the family wealth trying to buy a cure for his son's lycanthropy! Do you know how much money he threw away on any number of charlatans' useless potions and spells?"

"So you killed him," Selima said in a very cold and dangerous voice that sent chills down the spines of the students standing nearby, because it reminded them of Professor Snape at his angriest, when he had moved beyond shouting into a cold, quiet fury. Even Snape went a little pale and took a step back away from her.

"No!" shouted Amos. "I loved my brother, even though I thought he was a fool! I admit that my parents and I conspired with the Gravenors to fake Cyril's death, but I did not kill Cynric!"

"Then did your parents kill him?" Selima asked in that same cold voice. "Or the Gravenors?"

"NO!" Amos shouted in frustration. "I told you, it was an accident!"

"I don't believe you, Amos," Selima said.

"I don't care what you believe, Selima," Amos snapped. "I'm not standing here and listening to your ridiculous accusations for another moment!" He turned to Lukas. "And as for you...Cyril or Bleddri or whatever it is you are calling yourself, I will never let you inherit the Diggory title!"

Lukas spat on the ground at his feet. "You can keep your title," he said scornfully. "I wouldn't take it if you handed it to me on a silver platter. I want nothing more to do with your pureblood world of scheming and hypocrisy."

"And stay away from my family!" Amos shouted.

"If you want to keep your family away from me, Uncle Amos--" Lukas sneered. "--that's fine with me. But I am not leaving Hogwarts."

"Then we'll send Tristan to another school!" Amos snapped. "Gwendolyn, Tristan, come along!"

"No," Gwendolyn said quietly.

"What?" Amos asked, looking angry and frustrated.

"No, I will not come along with you," Gwendolyn said in a quiet but determined voice, "and no, I will not send Tristan to another school."

Helen stared at her husband and sister-in-law, looking confused and troubled. "I don't really understand what is happening, dear, but let us go home and let Amos explain things to us." Her voice was gentle, but she gave her husband a look that said it had better be a very good explanation.

"I will listen to Amos's side of the story," Gwendolyn said, "though I suspect I will not like it. But first I want to hear Cyril's."

"I don't want you or Tristan going anywhere near him!" Amos shouted. "He's dangerous!"

"What you want means very little to me right now, Amos, considering how you have deceived me all these years."

"For your own good!"

"I will be the judge of that," Gwendolyn said.

"Gwen, perhaps--" Robert said uncertainly.

"I want to know what happened to Cyril, and where he has been all these years," Gwendolyn said stubbornly. 

"The boy you knew twenty-five years ago no longer exists," Lukas said in a gentle voice. "In a way, it is true that Cyril died the night my father did."

"Well, I am not the same girl I was twenty-five years ago, either," Gwendolyn said. "But I am still me, and you are still you. We still share the same blood."

Lukas shook his head. "You were just a child at the time, so I bear no grudge against you or Tristan. But I am no longer a Diggory, and I want nothing more to do with that family."

"Well, I am an Ames now, and no longer a Diggory, either," Gwendolyn pointed out. "And I will not leave until you talk to me and tell me what happened to you."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lukas's mouth. "You always were a stubborn little girl, Gwen."

Gwendolyn smiled back at him, looking relieved. "That's 'Aunt Gwen' to you, nephew."

Lukas's smile grew a little wider. "Yes, I remember how you always insisted that I call you 'Aunt' even though you were a year younger than me."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore suggested, "you would like to continue this conversation in private? Why don't we all go back to the castle?"

"If you want to talk to the werewolf, I can't stop you," Amos told his sister. "But I won't let you take Tristan with you."

Robert frowned. "Now see here, Amos, Tristan is our son; that's up to Gwendolyn and I."

"He is my heir!" Amos said.

"And he is my son!" Gwendolyn retorted. "I will decide what is best for him. You may take back the heirship if you wish. It rightfully belongs to Cyril, anyway."

"This is all a plot, isn't it?" Amos raged at Lukas. "To steal the Diggory inheritance?"

"Hasn't anyone been listening to me?" Lukas asked irritably. "I don't want the damn inheritance!"

"Will you let him take your son's inheritance?" Amos asked his sister, ignoring Lukas.

Gwendolyn gently placed her hands on her son's shoulders. "A family member is more precious than any amount of land or money. I am sure Tristan understands that."

"I wasn't supposed to be the heir in the first place," Tristan said in a low voice. "I wish I wasn't. I'd trade it away in an instant if it would bring Cedric back."

The eyes of the Diggorys filled with tears, and Dumbledore asked quietly, "Isn't it time that you made peace with your nephew, Amos?"

"No!" said Amos, giving Lukas a hateful look. "He is no kin of mine!" He stalked off the Pitch, and his wife followed, after giving Gwendolyn an apologetic look.

Everyone else headed back to the castle. Snape dismissed the students, who left with obvious reluctance; they were nearly as eager as Gwendolyn to hear the story behind Master Bleddri's supposed death. "Go to the hospital wing and check on Dylan," Snape told Theodore. "I'll come by later."

Theodore looked disappointed, but said, "Yes, Father," and left.

"You can use the staff room to talk," Dumbledore told Lukas and the Ames family. "I'll have the house-elves send up some tea."

When Selima would have followed them, Lupin said firmly, "This is a family matter. We should give them some privacy."

Lukas looked a little alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with his long-lost relatives. "You had might as well come along, Lupin. It's your and Snape's meddling that got me into this mess in the first place. And I'd prefer to have Lady Snape where I can see her, rather than have her shouting my parentage to the entire wizarding world."

Lupin smiled. "As you wish, Lukas."

So they all went to the staff room and sat there in silence until the house-elves brought some tea and left. "Er...so how is it that you came to be involved in all this, Professor Snape, Lady Selima?" Robert asked.

"Anya Gravenor Diggory was my best friend," Selima said. "You probably don't remember, Cyril, but your mother brought you to Snape Manor a few times, and you played with Severus as a child."

Lupin nearly choked in an attempt to muffle his laughter when he tried to picture the two of them as children playing together. Both of them glared at him. "I don't remember that," Snape said sourly. "Though I do remember Anya Diggory coming to visit alone."

"Well, you were only two or three at the time," Selima told him. "Anya stopped bringing Cyril when he was older because she said he was ill. But it was the lycanthropy, wasn't it? And since it happened when you were so young, Cyril, it must have been inherited lycanthropy. It's extremely unlikely that a sheltered toddler living in a pureblood mansion would be bitten by a werewolf."

Lukas inclined his head. "You are correct, Lady Selima, though I wish you would stop calling me 'Cyril'. I know that Severus talked to you about a friend that he believed was a pureblood going by an alias, but tell me, how did you know it was me?"

"It was hardly difficult to figure out," Selima said, with a hint of condescension. "Severus doesn't have many friends, so I figured it must be someone connected with either the school or the Order of the Phoenix. I did some research, looking through back issues of the Daily Prophet, and I came across your picture in one of them. I would have figured it out months ago, except that I was so furious with Severus for publicizing his relationship with the werewolf--"

"There are two of us here, Lady Selima," Lukas pointed out with ironic humor. "And I'd prefer that no one mistook me for Snape's lover."

"Excuse me, with Professor Lupin," Selima corrected herself smoothly, "that I never read any of the articles that Rita Skeeter did on the werewolves; I threw them all away. But when I saw your picture, I immediately recognized you, and it all made sense--the mysterious illness, why you never went to Hogwarts, and why your family might try to get rid of you and your father--"

"Cyril," Gwendolyn said urgently, "do you really believe that your father was murdered? Surely...surely Amos could never have done such a thing..."

"Perhaps not Amos, but your parents," Selima suggested, as Gwendolyn looked horrified and Robert glared at her. "Did you never hear the rumors, child? No, I suppose no one would have mentioned them to you, but among the Slytherin families, there was talk of how the elder Diggorys might have replaced their heir with one that they felt was more suitable. Everyone knows that they hated Cynric."

"They didn't hate him!" Gwendolyn protested. "They didn't see eye-to-eye, and they fought a lot, but he was still their son and they loved him!" She turned to Lukas, looking less certain of herself and said in a small voice, "Didn't they?"

Lukas hesitated, then sighed and said, "I will tell you the whole story, and you can judge for yourself. The Diggorys had always been Hufflepuffs, and your parents frowned upon my father when he went into Slytherin. They were even less pleased when he took a Slytherin wife who came from a family who had a reputation for practicing the Dark Arts. But still, the situation was tolerable, and they didn't consider replacing him as heir until my lycanthropy began manifesting itself when I was four years old."

"Is that how inherited lycanthropy works?" Snape asked Lupin. "It doesn't show up immediately?"

Lupin shrugged. "Not a great deal of research has been done on the subject. I first began showing signs of it when I was about that age."

"My father read every text on lycanthropy that he could find," Lukas said. "His research indicated that the age varies, but the change usually takes place between ages three to five. Scholars speculate that this is because an infant's body would be unable to survive the stress of the transformation." 

Gwendolyn shuddered and Tristan's face went white. "If...if it's inherited," Tristan stammered, "could I have it, too?"

Lukas shook his head. "No, Tristan, you are safe. If you had lycanthropy, it would have manifested itself by now."

"Thank Merlin," Robert sighed. "Do you know which side of the family it came from?"

Lukas smiled mirthlessly. "The Gravenors and the Diggorys fought bitterly over that very question. The Diggorys blamed the Gravenors, saying it was because their ancestors had meddled with Dark Magic in the past, and the Gravenors swore that there were no werewolves in their family tree, so it must be from the Diggory line. My parents didn't give a damn where it came from; they just wanted to cure me, or at least find a way to ease my symptoms." He closed his eyes for a moment, and a look of sorrow and pain filled his face. "My parents loved me," he said softly. "They refused to lock me up out of sight in some institution as my paternal grandparents suggested. My mother's father said I ought to be disposed of, the way one might drown a kitten or puppy who is born deformed." 

Gwendolyn shuddered again, and Lukas continued, "My father's parents threatened to disown him, but he said that if they did, he would tell everyone the reason behind it, and that he would tell everyone that the lycanthropy came from the Diggory side of the family. He didn't care so much about being the heir, but he wanted to shelter me from the prejudice I would encounter if my condition were made public, and he needed the Diggory fortune to find a cure. Amos was right about one thing: my father spent a great deal of money on research and cures, most of which led nowhere or turned out to be false. He was so desperate that he couldn't bear to pass up any chance of curing me, no matter how slim. He was cheated many times, but never twice by the same person. My father was as ruthless as any Slytherin, and the people who cheated him always seemed to disappear mysteriously or meet untimely ends."

Gwendolyn went pale, and Lukas gave her an apologetic smile. "I am sorry to ruin the image you had of your brother, Gwen, but what he did, he did for love of me. I will stop now, if you like, and you can go back to your family and forget about all this. The story I have to tell only gets uglier as it goes on. I have seen and done terrible things, Gwen."

Gwendolyn swallowed hard, and seemed to gather up her nerve. "No, I want to know the truth, no matter how bad it is. I want to know everything."

"Perhaps Tristan should not hear this, though," Robert said, frowning.

"No!" Tristan said. "I...I want to know, too. Otherwise...I'll always wonder about it. And if Master Bleddri really is my cousin, I...I want to know about him."

Robert sighed unhappily, but Gwendolyn said, "Let him stay."

"My father had to conduct these transactions in disguise and under a false name, of course, in order to keep his bargain with my grandparents, that he would keep my lycanthropy a secret if they did not disown him," Lukas continued. "And also because many of the potions and drugs he bought were illegal, and could only be obtained on the black market. A few of them were even effective; one was a crude precursor of the Wolfsbane Potion that contained a small amount of aconite. Unfortunately, it was difficult to get the dosage right. Too little had no effect, and too much made me violently ill." 

Lukas grimaced. "Some of the research, I am sorry to say, was conducted on captive werewolves imprisoned in Azkaban or in institutions like the one my grandparents wanted to put me in. My father felt guilty about it, but he would make any sacrifice, pay any price to find a cure that would save me from the fate of those other werewolves. And he rationalized that if he found a cure, in the end it would benefit all werewolves." Lukas sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure that I would have done the same thing in his place, but how can I hold it against him when he did it for my sake? He and my mother never treated me with scorn or fear or resentment, even during my transformations. When I was very small, during the first few years of my lycanthropy, he would even hold me." There was a wistful, nostalgic look in Lukas's yellow-green eyes.

"Merlin's Beard!" Snape exclaimed. "In your wolf form? With no Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Well, I was just a cub, not a full-grown wolf, but yes. He dosed me with Sleeping Potion and wore heavy, warded robes and gloves for protection, but it was still probably a reckless and stupid thing to do." Lukas smiled. "But my father was always a bold and reckless man. My mother used to say it was the reason she fell in love with him, even as it drove her to distraction at the same time." His smile faded. "And that is the reason why I've never been sure whether his death was an accident or not. One of his contacts sent him a message late one night, claiming to have found a potential cure. It was a stormy night, with thunder and lightning, and my mother begged him not to go out or to at least wait till morning, but the contact said that the sale must be made that night, claiming that the seller was on the run from the law, and was planning to flee the country. So my father left to meet his contact, and that was the last time I saw him alive."

"I never knew," Gwendolyn said, tears streaming down her face. "I never knew why he went out that night. I never suspected that you were a werewolf..."

"Of course not," Lukas said. "That too, was part of the bargain my father made with his parents. You were just a child, and they wanted you to be sheltered from that knowledge."

"That's why they didn't like me playing with you when we were children," Gwendolyn whispered. "That's why they didn't let me visit your house very often."

"They were afraid that I might bite you and pass on the curse," Lukas said with a bitter smile, "even though it can only be transmitted in wolf form, and my parents always kept me safely locked up during the full moon. But your parents had to let you visit your brother and nephew occasionally, or people would have become curious and started gossiping and speculating about the reason why they didn't, and sometimes Father would bring me over to see you just to spite his parents."

"Why did they pretend that you died?" Gwendolyn asked. "And where did you go after that?"

"The Gravenors and the Diggorys saw a perfect opportunity to get rid of their inconvenient werewolf grandson," Lukas replied. "They came up with the idea of saying that I had died in the crash with my father, and used closed caskets at the funeral, saying that the bodies were too badly mangled to be displayed. My coffin, of course, was empty. My mother was nearly catatonic with grief, and in no condition to object. The Gravenors still felt some affection for their daughter, or perhaps they knew that she would raise a fuss if they tried to kill me, so they smuggled me back to the family estate in Wales with my mother. They put us in a little shack, a hovel really, on the edge of the estate, out in the countryside where there were no neighbors or villagers to see us. They sent food and clothing over regularly, but no one ever came to visit us, and we weren't allowed to come up to the mansion."

"Did Anya truly die of grief?" Selima asked softly.

Lukas shrugged. "I suppose so. The shack was drafty and, when it rained, leaky, and my mother caught a cold that she didn't take care of and it escalated into pneumonia. But she was already frail and listless before that, because she barely ate, and then only when I begged and pleaded her to. Mostly she wept and mourned my father. From time to time she would come to her senses enough to apologize for not being a better mother. She would caress my face and say that she was sorry she was so weak, and that I must be strong enough for the both of us. She finally died three years after my father did. In a way, though I mourned her, it came as something of a relief."

"I am sorry, Cyril," Gwendolyn wept. "I am so sorry! How you and your mother suffered--if I had known, I would have done something to help you, I swear it!"

"It's not your fault, Gwennie," Lukas said kindly. "You were just a child; you didn't know."

"But Amos knew?"

"Yes," Lukas replied quietly. "He helped your parents and the Gravenors fake my death."

"Oh God," Gwendolyn said, and wept hysterically. Tristan stared at her helplessly, and Robert put his arm around his wife and tried to comfort her.

There was a long silence, and Lupin finally broke it by asking, "What happened after that?"

"I knew that the Gravenors wouldn't scruple to kill me once they found out my mother was dead," Lukas said. "It didn't surprise me that my Uncle Anwir eventually turned out to be a Death Eater. So I packed some clothes and food, and took what little money we had, along with my mother's jewelry, and fled. Eventually I made my way to London. I sold my mother's jewels and lived off that for awhile, but the money didn't last long, and it was difficult to find places to hide during the full moon. I started stealing and scavenging to survive, and eventually an older thief caught me poaching in his territory--I had been a sheltered pureblood child, and had no idea that each part of the city was controlled by a certain thief or gang of thieves, and that one didn't operate in someone else's territory without paying a toll. But I was lucky, because instead of killing me, that thief took me under his wing." 

Lukas smiled a little, a strange mixture of both bitterness and affection in his eyes. "He spared my life, you see, because he was a werewolf and recognized that I was one of his kind. He taught me how to survive on the street, and how to find secure places to hide during the full moon. He taught me how to make use of my wolf senses and yet hide my lycanthropy from strangers. In time, I became strong enough to stand on my own, and I began seeking out others of my kind, trying to help them as my mentor helped me."

"You began forming a pack," Lupin said quietly.

Lukas nodded. "Always before, werewolves lived alone, with the constant fear of their secret being discovered. I thought we would be stronger together, supporting and protecting one another. And...I was lonely; wolves are social creatures and not meant to live alone. If nothing else, we would have companions that we would not have to keep secrets from." 

"I am so sorry, Cyril," Gwendolyn said. "I can't make up for what my parents and Amos did to you, but I'll do what I can to help you now. You are the rightful heir to the Diggory estate, not Amos, and not Tristan, and I will support your claim."

Lukas shook his head impatiently. "I meant what I told Amos earlier. I don't want the title. Cyril Diggory is dead; I am Lukas Bleddri now." He stared directly into his aunt's eyes, and she flinched a little, because his yellow-green eyes looked feral and wolfish at the moment. "I have been a thief and a smuggler, Gwendolyn," he said softly. "I have killed men. I once stabbed a man who tried to rape one of my pack members. During the final battle, I turned into a wolf and tore out a Death Eater's throat."

Tristan stared at him in horror and Robert shouted, "Good God, man! How can you say such things in front of a child?!"

"That is the life I have led these past twenty years, Gwendolyn," Lukas said, ignoring him. "I do not belong in your world anymore."

"But Cyril--"

Lukas sighed, a pained look on his face. "I really wish you would stop calling me that. Please, I go by the name 'Lukas' now." 

"Lukas, then," Gwendolyn said. "Whatever you have done, you are still family."

"My only family is my pack of werewolves," Lukas said, then felt a little guilty when Gwendolyn looked hurt.

"I would not have thought that Cynric's son would turn out to be such a coward," Selima said in a cold voice.

"Mother!" Snape cried in alarm, rising to his feet to step between his mother and Lukas when the werewolf snarled and bared his teeth. "Have you gone mad? You don't provoke a werewolf that way!"

"I'm not afraid of him," Selima said coolly.

"Well, you should be!"

"Sit down, Severus," Lupin said. "Lukas isn't going to hurt her." He gave the other werewolf a pointed look.

Lukas growled sulkily and slouched down in his chair a little. "If I bit everyone who annoyed me, England would be overrun with werewolves," he grumbled. Snape slowly returned to his seat, still gazing at Lukas suspiciously.

"You can change your name," Selima said. "You can run and hide, but that will not change who you are: Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory, heir--no, rightful Lord to the Diggory estate. Why are you so quick to cast aside the inheritance your father was fighting so hard for you to keep? You could even be Lord of two estates! After Anwir died, one of his cousins eventually inherited the Gravenor estate, but as Anya's son, your claim would be greater--"

"Why would I want to live among the people who are responsible for my parents' deaths, indirectly at least, even if they didn't actually murder them?" Lukas demanded. "My father wouldn't have had to sneak out in the middle of the night seeking a cure for lycanthropy if it hadn't been for the pureblood prejudice against werewolves, and my mother wouldn't have caught pneumonia if her family hadn't stuck us in that leaky shack because they were ashamed of me! For that matter, she wouldn't be dead if my father were still alive! Why would I want to live among people who regard me as a beast and a monster? And why the hell would you want a werewolf to become the head of a pureblood family, Lady Selima? From what I've heard, you're as snobbish as any of your peers!"

"Yes, Mother," Snape said. "He raises an interesting point. Did you not say that I was disgracing the family name by taking Lupin as my lover?"

"That's different," Selima said calmly. "I certainly wouldn't want Cyril as a son-in-law." Both Snape and Lukas stared at her suspiciously, trying to decide whether or not she had just made a joke, and Lupin snickered a little. "Perhaps if he were a Snape, I wouldn't be so eager to see him take the title. However, he is a Diggory, so I don't have to worry about werewolf blood commingling with ours."

"So as long as it's someone else's problem, it's fine," Snape said sarcastically.

"Exactly," Selima said with a straight face. "Besides, Anya was my dearest friend, and I was fond of Cynric as well, and I would like to see their son restored to his rightful place as Lord." Snape stared at her incredulously, wondering if he had really heard his mother admitting to a sentimental emotion. Then she smiled maliciously and added, "And I would like to see Amos cast down and humiliated for usurping the title."

That was a little more in character, and Snape breathed a small sigh of relief. Lukas, however, scowled at Selima. "I hate the purebloods," he said venomously. "I hate their narrow-mindedness, their arrogance, their hypocrisy."

"By rejecting the title, you are doing exactly what they want," Selima pointed out, to his consternation. "Removing your unwanted presence from their sight, acknowledging that you are not good enough to be part of their world."

"You want me to fight for the Lordship out of sheer spite?" Lukas asked in disbelief.

"And she calls ME petty?" Snape muttered under his breath.

"Why not?" Selima asked with a smile. "Would it not give you pleasure to take a small measure of revenge against them?" When Lukas hesitated, she added, "If you need a more selfless reason, then what about this? You could use the wealth and resources of the Diggory and Gravenor estates to help those werewolves you claim to care so much about."

Lukas looked taken aback by that thought, and Snape exclaimed, "Merlin's Beard, Mother! Are you, Selima Snape, the epitome of the pureblood elite, actually suggesting that he use his family's wealth to aid a pack of werewolves? Your pureblood friends would consider that sedition!"

"Anya, Cynric, and Vanessa were the only real friends I had," Selima said, "and they are all dead now. Besides, as you pointed out, you have already disgraced the family name by taking up with Professor Lupin. There's not much more I can do to ruin it further. It's odd, but there's a certain sense of freedom in that..."

Snape stared at his mother, feeling as if his world had just been turned upside down; it was as if Harry Potter had suddenly turned into a model student or Draco Malfoy had started campaigning for house-elf rights. He wondered if the recent stress of dealing with his father's death had driven his mother mad, or if Lupin had managed to corrupt her the way he had corrupted Snape's Slytherins. He looked over and saw Lupin grinning, and hissed, "Damn it, Lupin, it's not funny!"

"I...I can't," Lukas said weakly, still looking stunned. "It's impossible...no one would ever let me get away with that...no one would ever allow a werewolf to become head of a prominent pureblood family..."

"Werewolves are equal to humans under the law now," Lupin reminded him. "If you are interested in regaining your inheritance, you should contact Morrigan De Lacy. She's the lawyer who arranged Theodore's adoption for us and had the Rosier estate returned to Dylan." Lupin smiled. "I can't speak for her, of course, but I think she would find your case quite interesting."

"I'm sure she would," Snape muttered. "She has an almost Gryffindorish penchant for stirring things up."

"But it would be unfair to Tristan to take the title from him," Lukas said uncertainly. "Even if Amos took the title illicitly, Tristan has done nothing wrong."

"The title is yours by right," Gwendolyn said quietly. "We won't object." Robert looked as if he wasn't quite sure he agreed with that, and glanced over at his son.

"I...I don't know what to think," Tristan stammered. "It's still hard to believe that Master Bleddri is related to us."

"It's a lot to take in at once," Lupin said gently. "Perhaps all of you should think things over before you make any hasty decisions."

"Yes," Robert agreed quickly. "That sounds practical." Selima frowned at him.

Something occurred to Snape, and he asked Gwendolyn curiously, "Didn't you see any pictures of Bleddri...er...Cyril...in the Daily Prophet before this?"

"Don't call me 'Cyril,'" Lukas growled.

Gwendolyn shook her head. "We haven't read it much ever since they printed those lies about Cedric's death. And after the war ended, Amos urged me not to read it at all, saying that it was full of inflammatory propaganda and lies...oh Merlin. He probably saw that picture of Cyril--Lukas--and was afraid I'd see it and recognize him. He had urged me not to send Tristan to Hogwarts because he didn't approve of Dumbledore hiring werewolves..."

"It was a certain werewolf he didn't approve of," Lukas said grimly.

"He was an idiot if he thought he could cover it up forever," Snape said. "If you really resemble your father that much, someone was bound to notice eventually."

"I can't believe that Amos lied to me all these years," Gwendolyn said, shaking her head sadly. "I don't know if I can ever forgive him for that. I loved your father so much, Cyril--sorry, I mean Lukas. He was much older than me, and he seemed so handsome and brave and dashing and...well, grown-up, and he was always kind to me and never treated me like an annoying little sister. I idolized him, I suppose. And I loved you, too." She smiled at Lukas. "In a way, Cynric was more like a favorite uncle than my brother, and you were more like a sibling or cousin than my nephew." She reached out to caress his cheek with one hand. "I still love you," she said quietly, "even if you are a werewolf, even if you call yourself by a different name now, even if you have killed people. No matter what you have done in the past, or what you do in the future, you are my dear nephew and childhood friend, and I will always love you."

Lukas looked pale and shaken and there were tears glittering in his eyes. "You don't even know me," he said in a hoarse voice.

"I know that you have been hailed as a hero of the war," Gwendolyn said. "I know that Albus Dumbledore trusts you. I know that my son likes you. And I know that you are family. That is enough for me. But I would like to get to know you better...Lukas. I would like to get to know the man that you are now. May I come see you from time to time?"

It took several tries for Lukas to get his voice working again. He cleared his throat, took a sip of tea, then finally said gruffly, "Well, you are the mother of one of my students. I can't stop you from coming by the school if you wish."

Gwendolyn smiled at him tenderly, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Lukas," she said quietly. Then she got up, and her husband and son followed her. She paused in the doorway and said, "Please consider taking up the title, Lukas. It is yours by right." She waited for a few moments, but he remained silent, and the Ames family left.

Selima was smiling triumphantly, and Lukas growled, "Oh, stop looking so smug, Lady Selima! I haven't agreed to take the title yet. I still don't think it's a good idea; Amos is bound to fight me on it, and it's my word against his that he did anything wrong. He could pretend that his parents faked my death without his knowledge, or more likely, that the Gravenors did it alone--all of my grandparents are dead now, and unable to confirm or deny whatever story he comes up with. He could claim that I'm an impostor. Who knows? He might even claim that the Death Eaters were behind it all. Hero of the war or not, people are more likely to believe a respected pureblood Ministry official than they are to believe a werewolf."

"You have Dumbledore's support," Lupin pointed out, "and mine, and Severus's, and Lady Selima's. That counts for a great deal as well."

"You can fight for the title and win, and you know it," Selima told Lukas. "You're just looking for an excuse not to."

"I can see why you left home," Lukas said to Snape, who smiled a little.

"Indeed," he said dryly.

"How am I going to deal with Tristan in class?" Lukas asked Lupin.

"He's in shock right now," Lupin said, "but I think he'll come around. He does like you; maybe he'll even be glad that you're related when the shock wears off."

"Maybe," Lukas said doubtfully. "But he's also fond of Amos, who will likely try to poison his mind against me."

"But he also loves his mother," Lupin said with a smile, "who clearly loves you very much."

"She loves the memory of my father and her childhood playmate," Lukas said quietly. "It's not the same thing. Gwen is a sweet girl, but she's led a very sheltered life. I can't see anything good coming of this; it's much more likely to bring her more misery."

"She's not a little girl anymore," Lupin said. "I believe she's stronger than you think she is. She strikes me as being very...determined."

"If you had not interfered--" Lukas said to Selima in an accusing voice, but she cut him off.

"She would have found out eventually, anyway," Selima said. "Her son is a student here; you couldn't possibly evade her for seven years. And she would have realized who you were the moment she came face-to-face with you." Lukas sighed irritably. "I won't apologize for meddling in your life, Cyril. I owe it to your parents, who would want to see you take your rightful inheritance."

"Don't speak for my parents," Lukas growled, a dangerous glint in his eyes, but Selima did not seem intimidated.

"You have been out of society for a long time," she observed in a cool voice. "We may need to polish your manners a little."

"Mother!" Snape cried, while Lupin burst out laughing.

Lukas glared at his fellow werewolf for a long moment, then one corner of his mouth curved up a little, and he let out a little snort of laughter. "Yes," he said sarcastically, "and you might have to teach me which fork to use at dinner, too."

Selima gave the two werewolves annoyed look. "I thought Professor Lupin's childish sense of humor was a Gryffindor trait, but perhaps it's a werewolf trait as well." She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. "We ought to go check on Dylan now, Severus, and then see if your colleagues have discovered the source of the hex."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, his face growing serious now as he recalled the recent threat to his son. 

"And by the way, Cyril..."

"Yes, Lady Selima?" Lukas asked in a resigned voice.

Selima hesitated, then said quietly, "I'm glad to know that you're alive." Then she turned and walked out of the room as Snape gaped at her in shock.

"My mother?" he asked incredulously. "Showing a hidden streak of sentimentality?"

"I told you that your mother wasn't a monster, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully, then linked his arm through Snape's and followed after Selima. Still in a state of shock, Snape meekly allowed Lupin to drag him along without even protesting about Lupin "pawing" him in public as he usually did.

Lukas sighed and shook his head. Actually, he did have a vague memory of playing with a sullen dark-haired, hook-nosed little boy who didn't like sharing his toys. And although his childhood memories of Lady Selima were vague as well, he did remember that she was his mother's best friend, which was why he had been trying to evade her in the stands at the Quidditch match, realizing that she might recognize his resemblance to his father. 

He should never have come to Hogwarts, but Cynric Diggory had been dead for over a quarter of a century, and he had thought it would be safe enough, as the students and most of their parents were too young to remember him. Lady Selima had been estranged from her son, and Lukas had thought there would be little chance of encountering her at Hogwarts...until she sent the Howler summoning her son home to see his dying father. Even then, he thought everything would be all right as long as he stayed away from her and the other relatives of his students who might remember his father. But Dumbledore had ordered him to attend the game, and Lady Selima had marched into the teachers' stand instead of sitting in the Slytherin section like she was supposed to. 

Lukas remembered his father once saying jokingly that all the Snapes were stubborn as mules, and his mother had scolded him, and then they had both laughed, but now Lukas realized that his father had not really been joking after all. Selima Snape seemed bound and determined to interfere in his life, and he couldn't think of a way to stop her short of biting her. Then he shuddered; no, that was a bad idea--as a wolf, she would probably end up taking over his pack! He sighed and said to the empty room, "I need a drink." Then he got up and headed to his quarters, where he had a bottle of Firewhiskey stashed away for emergencies; if this didn't count as one, he didn't know what did.

*** 

Madam Pomfrey had healed Dylan and sent him back to the Slytherin dorm. Snape, Lupin, and Selima went to the dorm and found Dylan and Damien in the common room, being fussed over by the Slytherin girls while the boys watched in amusement.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Mr. Rosier, Mr. Pierce," Snape said sarcastically, but he couldn't quite hide his smile, and Dylan grinned at him.

"I'm feeling fine, Professor, really--Madam Pomfrey's healed me up as good as new!"

"So what about Master Bleddri, Professor?" Crabbe asked eagerly. "Is he really the Diggory heir? Is he going to take over the estate?"

"Won't that put that little twerp Tristan's knickers in a twist!" Patrick Parkinson snickered, but subsided when Lupin frowned at him disapprovingly.

"It seems that Master Bleddri is indeed the son of Cynric Diggory, the late and former heir to the Diggory estate," Lupin said. "But if you want to know anything more than that, you will have to ask Master Bleddri himself." The students fell silent, exchanging dubious glances; most of them liked Bleddri, but they were also a little scared of him at the same time.

"Do you know what caused the hex, sir?" Dylan asked.

"No, we're going to talk to Professor Blackmore and the others and see if they've finished testing your broom yet," Lupin replied. "We just wanted to check up on you first."

"I'm fine," Dylan said with a smile.

"I'm glad to hear it," Snape said. "But perhaps you should get some rest after your recent ordeal. You too, Mr. Pierce."

Damien looked disappointed, but both boys obediently said, "Yes, sir."

Snape turned to address the other members of the Quidditch team. "You all did very well today," he said quietly. "I'm proud of you. Twenty points to Slytherin for each of you." They all beamed at him, Theodore especially, and Snape laid his hand on his son's shoulder for a moment. It was very strange to see children actually smiling at him, and stranger still to find that he rather liked it, and worried a little that Lupin's Gryffindor sentimentality might be rubbing off on him.

"Any excuse to give out points to Slytherin, Severus?" Lupin joked.

"Can you deny that they deserve it?" Snape retorted.

Lupin shook his head, smiling warmly at them. "Not at all. I'm very grateful to all of you."

"Yeah, well, I'd hate to have to train a new Chaser after the season's already started," Draco said casually, and Dylan grinned at him.

"Well, I'd sure hate to inconvenience you, Malfoy!"

The students started heading back to their rooms, and Snape called out, "One moment, Mr. Dietrich."

"Yes, sir?" Aric said warily.

"You didn't have anything to do with today's little prank, did you, Mr. Dietrich?"

"Of course not!" Aric said indignantly. "Did someone accuse me? I bet it was Theo!"

"No one needed to accuse you, Dietrich," Snape told him. "You are the most likely suspect, considering your hostility towards your cousin and his friends."

"I didn't do it!" Aric insisted. "Besides, if I was going to hurt someone, it would be Theo, not Dylan!"

"I'll remember that," Snape murmured, giving Aric a cold, penetrating stare, causing the boy to go pale and break out into a sweat.

"Um...hypothetically speaking, of course," he added lamely.

"Of course," Snape said, his eyes still fixed on Aric's.

"That's enough, Severus," Lupin said firmly, tugging on Snape's arm. "I already told you, I don't believe Aric had anything to do with this." Aric gave Lupin a startled look.

Snape said softly, "Watch your step, Mr. Dietrich. I'll be watching you very closely from now on." Then he turned and left with Lupin. Selima said nothing, but gave Aric a cold stare very similar to Snape's, then left as well.

Aric's knees felt a little wobbly, and he sank down into a chair beside the fireplace. "Merlin's Beard," he muttered. "Now I know where Snape gets it from."

*** 

"What was that all about, Severus?" Lupin asked. "You know Aric didn't have anything to do with this!"

"We don't know that, Lupin," Snape replied. "I'm not as trusting as you are. You're probably right, but I just wanted to see his reaction. And putting a little fear into him might stop him from carrying out any future 'pranks' of his own."

"I still think it would be better to win him over than to intimidate him," Lupin argued.

"You can work on winning him over, Lupin," Snape said. "I'll handle the intimidation part." 

Despite himself, Lupin smiled. "You're impossible, Severus Snape."

"Well, we agree on one thing at least," Selima said with a wry smile.

They found Branwen, Sirius, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Dumbledore in the Incantations workshop frowning down at Dylan's broken broomstick and a number of green-and-silver ribbon rosettes.

"Did you find the source of the hex?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Branwen said, frowning. "It wasn't on the broom; it was on the ribbons. Two of the rosettes were hexed; it was very cleverly done. The silver ribbons had a pain-giving curse set on them, and the green ones were enchanted with a Hurling Hex, probably because whoever gave Dylan the rosettes couldn't be sure of whether he'd wear them on his person or tie them to his broomstick. This way both possibilities were covered. The spell was most likely triggered from a distance--by a spectator in the stands, no doubt. We'll have to question the students, but the trigger requires only a very brief incantation or command word, so it's likely that no one noticed it happening, since everyone's attention was on the Pitch at the time."

"A nasty piece of work," Snape said uneasily. "It sounds like something a Slytherin would do, but Dylan is well-liked in Slytherin, except for Aric Dietrich, and I don't think Aric did it. This is a little too subtle for him, and besides, the rosette would have had to have come from a girl."

"I was under the impression that all the female students adored Mr. Rosier," Flitwick said. "I can't imagine any of them wanting to hurt him."

"Perhaps Dylan can tell us who gave him the hexed rosettes," Sirius suggested.

Snape stared down sourly at the rosettes. "Fat chance," he grumbled. "They all look alike, and he got at least a hundred of the blasted things." 

Nevertheless, they sent Bane to the Slytherin dorm with a message for Dylan. The raven balked at being treated like a messenger owl, but Snape bribed him with a piece of chocolate. Dylan returned with Bane sitting on his shoulder, and examined the rosettes.

"Um...I'm not really sure," he said sheepishly. "I had so many...they kind of got mixed up. Where exactly on the broom were they?"

"Here and here," Branwen said, pointing to the handle of the broomstick. "The two that were closest to the tip of the handle."

"Oh, then I know who they were from!" Dylan said, then looked confused. "They were from Allegra and Gabby...Gabrielle Delacour. I made sure to keep those separate from the others, because I promised them I'd put their ribbons on my broom. But Gabby and Allegra would never do anything to hurt me!"

The adults exchanged troubled looks. "No, but some of their housemates might," Snape said. "I think we need to talk to Miss Zabini and Miss Delacour."

They questioned the girls, who were very distressed to learn that their rosettes had been used to hex Dylan. Allegra and Gabrielle earnestly answered the teachers' questions, but unfortunately, were not able to give much helpful information. There was nothing special about the ribbons, an inexpensive brand normally used for wrapping gifts; when Parvati came up with her idea, the Headmaster had allowed the students to draw them from the school stores. A number of other girls of all ages and Houses had worked with together with Allegra and Gabrielle on the day they made the rosettes, but they said they hadn't seen anyone tampering with the ribbons.

"Portia Pettigrew was there," Snape muttered suspiciously. "Do you suppose she could be following in her uncle's footsteps?" But Allegra vehemently defended her friend, and Lupin agreed that he didn't think it was in character for her. McGonagall quietly questioned Portia in private, and she tearfully denied it, becoming hysterical and offering to swear under Truth Potion that she had nothing to do with the hex.

Snape also took note of the fact that Isabelle Laroque had been there as well, although the girl had never caused any trouble before, and Dylan said that she had always been polite to him and never made any remarks about Death Eaters. He mentioned that Isabelle had given him a rosette as well, but admitted that he didn't know which one it was. They examined all the remaining ribbons that Dylan hadn't worn, but couldn't find hexes on any of them.

"I didn't give him a hexed rosette," Isabelle said quietly when they questioned her.

"Your uncles were killed by Death Eaters," Snape said. "Perhaps you hold a grudge against Dylan, who is the son of a Death Eater."

Isabelle shook her head. "I was wary of him at first, but he has been so kind to Gabrielle, whom I think of as a little sister. She adores him. That's why I made a rosette for him." She cast her eyes downward shyly, her long hair falling forward over her face. "And he's very handsome, of course," she said, sounding embarrassed. "All the girls think so."

Flitwick chuckled, but Snape still stared at her suspiciously. "Your friend Mr. Ackerley made a scene in Hogsmeade recently."

Isabelle looked up and met his gaze. "I know. He was wrong to do that, and I told him so."

Snape frowned; she seemed to be sincere, but she was very self-composed and had good control over her emotions and expression--perhaps a little too much so for his comfort. He was used to seeing his students squirm with fear when he confronted them. He would have liked to have questioned her using Legilimency, but Sprout made it clear that wasn't going to happen. She had been very upset when she heard that one of her students was being treated as a suspect, and had insisted on being present during the questioning, although Dumbledore assured her that they were talking to everyone who participated in the rosette-making project.

"That's quite enough, Snape," Sprout said. "Miss Laroque is a model student, and she has assured you that she had nothing to do with the prank. Unless you have some evidence to the contrary, I suggest you stop badgering my student."

"It's nothing personal," Lupin said kindly to Isabelle. "We're talking to everyone who was making rosettes with Allegra and Gabrielle."

"I understand, Professor."

Snape looked at a fuming Sprout and sighed. He really had no reason to think that the girl was involved, save that her family had suffered losses at the Death Eaters' hands, but then, so had half the people in the wizarding world. "You may go now, Miss Laroque," he said, and Isabelle left the room.

"Maybe someone tampered with the rosettes after you made them," Lupin said to Allegra and Gabrielle. "Did anyone else handle them afterwards? Did you give them to Dylan right away, or did you take them back to the dorm with you?"

The girls thought it over. "We went back to our dorms," Gabrielle said, "and gave them to Dylan after dinner. I left mine in my room until then. I don't think that anyone could have tampered with it." But she looked uncertain. 

"Was it in your sight the entire time?" Snape asked.

"No, I went out into the common room to play cards with some of my friends," she replied.

"What about you, Allegra?" Lupin asked.

Allegra frowned. "I went back to the dorm, and a bunch of us were showing each other our rosettes in the common room. Parvati said mine was very nice. We handled each other's rosettes, but no one cast spells on them. But..." Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

"What is it?" Snape asked.

"Emma called me over to help her with her Potions homework. I left the rosette alone on a table in the common room for...um...maybe twenty minutes? Half an hour, tops." Tears began to fill her eyes. "I didn't know anyone would use my rosette to hurt Dylan, honest!"

"It's okay, Allegra," Dylan assured her gently, patting her on the shoulder. "It's not your fault, and I'm fine, really."

After the distraught girls had been comforted and sent back to their dorms, Snape leaned back in his chair and sighed irritably. "Great," he said. "It could be anyone in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

"Surely no one in Gryffindor would do such a thing!" McGonagall protested.

"Your Gryffindors aren't little angels, Minerva," Snape said waspishly. "Do you not recall the rubber rat left on Miss Pettigrew's plate?"

"Yes, but there's a difference between playing a childish prank and actually trying to hurt someone," McGonagall argued.

Sirius flushed, recalling the "prank" he had once played on Snape when they were students. "It might have been a prank that got out of hand," he said. "They might not have thought about the consequences of it, that Dylan could have been seriously injured or even killed. I admit, behaving rashly is a Gryffindor trait."

"Hmm," Snape said, giving Sirius a thoughtful look. It was strange, to no longer feel that familiar rush of anger and hatred at the memory of the Shrieking Shack incident. Lupin smiled at both his best friend and his lover, then moved his chair closer to Snape and laid his head on Snape's shoulder. "Oh, cut that out, Lupin," Snape said, his voice tinged with mingled affection and annoyance. Lupin happily ignored him, and Sirius chuckled.

"It's still possible that someone might have tampered with the ribbons beforehand," Branwen said, smiling at her former students. "Maybe Allegra and Gabrielle didn't notice; they had no reason to be suspicious at the time. Or perhaps someone managed to slip some enchanted ribbons into the supply room before the girls even picked them up. There's a small possibility that the person behind this wasn't targeting Dylan personally, but just Slytherin in general."

"So basically, it could be anyone in the school!" Snape said, throwing his arms up in frustration and inadvertently dislodging Lupin's head from his shoulder. 

"Well, I think it would have to be an older student," Branwen said. "From the complexity of the spell, at least a fifth-year, or perhaps a very talented fourth-year." She paused. "Then again, I do recall that even as a first-year, you were able to cast hexes that most seventh-years hadn't even heard of, Severus."

"That's very reassuring, Branwen," Snape said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Branwen said sympathetically, "but I'm afraid that there's nothing more we can do, except to keep a close eye on all the students."

"Lovely," Snape muttered.

"What are you going to do to protect my grandson?" Selima demanded. "How do you know that Theodore won't be the target of the next so-called prank? Maybe we should send him to Durmstrang, Severus."

"He's safer here where I can keep an eye on him, Mother," Snape said in a testy voice. "And I'm certainly not sending him to a school that was once run by a former Death Eater! We'll watch the students carefully, as Branwen said, and I'll warn my Slytherins to be careful, and for Dylan and Theodore in particular not to go anywhere alone. And from now on, all the equipment and uniforms should be carefully examined for hexes before the players take the field when playing Quidditch." 

He looked over at Dumbledore for approval, and the Headmaster nodded. "Agreed. That sounds like a wise precaution, Severus."

"I hate this," McGonagall sighed. "It feels as if we're back in the old days, when You-Know-Who was still alive, and we were all looking over our shoulders, not knowing from which direction danger would come."

"Voldemort is dead now," Dumbledore said, clasping her hand in a comforting manner. "Hopefully this is nothing more than a childish prank that got out of hand, and after all the commotion it caused, I think the perpetrator might hesitate before trying something like this again."

"I hope so," McGonagall said, but she didn't look convinced and neither did anyone else.

*** 

That night at dinner, Snape walked up to McGonagall and held out a pouch of coins, saying in a loud and sour voice, "Your fifteen Galleons, Professor McGonagall. It seems you won the bet, after all." Although his attention seemed to be fixed on McGonagall, he cast a sidelong glance at the Gryffindor table, and saw the Sloper brothers, Andrew Kirke, Dean Thomas, and Jarrett Jordan smirk smugly. Most of the other Gryffindors looked uncomfortable, and Potter looked angry and guilty, and glared at Thomas.

McGonagall frowned at Snape. "Keep your money, Severus," she said curtly. "The game wasn't won fairly, and we both know it. Let us wager instead on who will win the Quidditch Cup."

"Very well," Snape said, and took his usual seat next to Lupin.

"That wasn't necessary, Severus," Lupin scolded. "You offended Minerva; you should have known that she wouldn't claim the wager under these circumstances."

"I know that, Lupin," Snape said. "I just wanted to see the Gryffindors' reactions. I thought it might help me narrow the list of suspects a little if I could see who was gloating at Slytherin's humiliation."

"Oh," Lupin said sheepishly.

"Will the two of you pipe down?" Lukas asked irritably.

"What's wrong with you, Bleddri?" Snape asked. "You're looking a little green around the gills."

"I'm sick," Lukas replied.

"I thought that werewolves didn't get sick," a puzzled Sirius said. "Or at least, only near the full moon."

"They do when they've consumed the better part of a bottle of Firewhiskey," Lukas muttered. He would have skipped dinner, except that Selima's remark about being a coward had stung, and he didn't want anyone to think he was hiding because of the confrontation with Diggorys.

Snape laughed, then said, "I'll give you a hangover potion after dinner."

Lukas slumped back in his seat. "I guess I won't kill you for laughing at me, then."

Dumbledore took his place at the head table, tapped his glass with his fork to get everyone's attention, and gave thanks that "Mr. Rosier came through this ordeal with only minor injuries. I hope that whoever played this 'prank' on him realizes now what a serious matter this is. Mr. Rosier could easily have been killed, although thank Merlin, he was not." An uneasy silence fell over the room, as the students glanced at one another, wondering who had done it. "Let us not forget the lessons we learned during the war: that we must all stand together. However, I am very proud of the Slytherin and Gryffindor players who worked together to help Mr. Rosier, particularly Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy." He smiled at Harry, whose unhappy expression eased somewhat, and at Draco, who beamed proudly. Then the Headmaster took his seat and allowed dinner to be served.

The hex and the unwanted win still bothered Harry, but his godfather's and the Headmaster's praise mitigated that slightly. He still felt a warm glow inside him when he recalled how Sirius had said that his father would have been proud of him. And Professor Blackmore had come with Sirius to visit Harry before dinner. She had smiled at him tenderly, not looking at all like the demonic teacher that all the students feared, and caressed his cheek gently with one hand. "I am so proud of you, Harry," she had said softly. "When I was teaching at Hogwarts when Sirius and your father were children, I could never have imagined a Gryffindor breaking off a game and possibly losing his chance to win in order to help a Slytherin."

"Maybe my dad would have surprised you," Harry had said loyally. "He did save Snape from Lupin in the Shrieking Shack, after all."

Blackmore had smiled at him. "Perhaps you're right, my dear. In any case, I am proud of you, Harry. You have your father's bravery and your mother's compassion." Then she had kissed him on the forehead, and Harry had suddenly thought to himself that this was what it was like to be kissed by a mother, and his eyes had filled with tears. Sirius had looked alarmed, but Harry had assured him, "It's okay, Sirius. I'm just glad that you and Professor Blackmore are my family now." Both of his godparents had hugged him then, and even Bane had rubbed his head affectionately against Harry's face.

That memory made him smile, and at the same time he felt almost guilty when he realized that he was starting to think of Sirius and Blackmore as his parents now. Was he being disloyal to his real parents? Harry glanced over at the head table, and Sirius caught his eye and grinned and winked at him. Surely his parents would understand, Harry thought, feeling reassured. They had loved Sirius too, and they were the ones who had appointed him as Harry's godfather, after all. It wasn't as if he would forget about his real parents; both Sirius and Blackmore often mentioned James and Lily, saying that they would be proud if they could see him now.

A voice from the Slytherin table startled Harry out of his reverie. "I wonder who hexed Dylan?" Brad Doherty asked loudly.

"I bet it was a Gryffindor!" Patrick Parkinson said.

"It was probably a Slytherin!" Jack Sloper retorted. "Everyone knows that you're a backstabbing lot! And who else knows how to cast Dark Magic?"

"It was probably you lot!" Malcolm Baddock accused. "You used the hex as a distraction so that you could score that goal when no one was looking and win the game! You cheated because you knew you couldn't win if you played fair!"

"Play fair?" Andrew Kirke laughed mockingly. "Oh, that's rich coming from a Slytherin! Who was it that disguised themselves as Dementors to try and scare Harry during a match a few years back?"

"Maybe you or Doherty did it, Baddock," Jack sneered. "Reserve players don't get to play unless a regular player is injured. Maybe you thought you'd take out Rosier to take his place!"

"Shut your trap, Sloper!"

"Why don't you make me, Baddock?"

"Stop it!" a furious Harry said to Jack and Andrew. "Didn't the Headmaster just say that we all have to stand together?"

"If you love the Slytherins so much, Potter, why don't you go over and join them?" Andrew snapped. "It seems like you've suddenly turned into one yourself! You kicked Dean off the team, tried to forfeit the game and give it to the snakes..."

"I want to win, but I want to win fair!" Harry shouted.

"Don't you dare talk to Harry that way!" Ron shouted, leaping to his friend's defense. "We'd all be dead or enslaved right now if he hadn't killed Voldemort!"

"Yeah, and you said you had to embrace your Slytherin side to do it," Jack said suspiciously to Harry. "I think maybe you've embraced it a little too much, Potter!"

From the head table, the teachers watched the arguments going on at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables with worried eyes. Snape sighed wearily, and as the voices grew louder, McGonagall finally threw down her napkin and got up to scold the students and deduct points. At the Ravenclaw table, Stewart and Corbin smirked smugly, and at Hufflepuff, Isabelle feigned a concerned look, but inside she was gloating. Tristan knew he should be glad that Slytherin and Gryffindor were at each other's throats, but his head was still spinning from the revelation that Master Bleddri was the long-lost Diggory heir, and he was too distracted to properly enjoy it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's mother continues to meddle in the Diggorys' affairs, and Lupin organizes a Career Fair at Hogwarts.

The events of the Quidditch match--the hex, the controversial win by Gryffindor, and most of all, the revelation of Master Bleddri's true identity--were the talk of the school. Lukas was grumpy and out-of-sorts for the rest of the weekend; all of the students, and even most of the teachers, were afraid to approach him. Lupin did make the attempt, but Lukas curtly told him that he needed some time to think things over alone.

"I understand," Lupin said quietly. "But if you ever need anyone to talk to--"

"This mess is all your and Snape's fault," Lukas snapped and slammed the door to his quarters in Lupin's face, ignoring the hurt and guilty look in his friend's eyes. Lukas sighed and flopped down on his bed, knowing that he wasn't being entirely fair; both Snape and Selima were right when they said that someone would have recognized him eventually. However, he wasn't in the mood to be fair right now, although he knew that he would have to apologize to Lupin later. It was just as well that the other werewolf had a forgiving nature and was used to putting up with his ill-tempered mate.

The wolf in him wanted to go to his pack for comfort, but the man was afraid to face them. They had been proud of him when he had been offered the position at Hogwarts, and would probably be even more excited about learning that he was the heir to an estate. His normally cynical wolves were filled with newfound hope thanks to the equal rights bill and the changed public perception of werewolves, and they would see this as a fairy tale ending: the exiled prince-in-disguise restored to his rightful inheritance. 

Intellectually, they knew how slim the chances were of a werewolf being appointed head of a pureblood family, but ever since their victory over the Death Eaters, his pack had come to believe that he could do almost anything, and regarded him with a hero worship that he wasn't sure was entirely healthy. They would want him to fight for the title, and prove that a werewolf really was equal to a human. And Selima, damn the meddling woman, was right: he could--and should--use the wealth and resources of the family estate to help his wolves.

But to fight for the title would mean opening up old wounds. A wolf lived in the here and now; Lukas and his pack were men and women as well as wolves, of course, and could not entirely escape the painful memories of their former lives, but they had done their best to leave the past behind them and live in the present, not looking backwards--or too far forwards. They lived in the moment, living hand-to-mouth, not always knowing where their next meal would come from. They had never looked too far into the future, which had held only more bleak misery and poverty. 

It had been Lukas's job as pack leader to look ahead to a certain extent, though, to see that the rent was paid and the pack fed, to obtain Wolfsbane Potion or make sure that the pack was locked up during the full moon. And then Remus, curse him, had forced him to look even farther ahead, to weigh the pack's temporary safety against a future in which the Death Eaters ran the world. The wolf would have run, but the man made the decision to stand and fight--not solely to avenge his slain pack member, as he had told Lupin, but also because he knew that the Death Eaters would eventually kill them all if they won the war.

Against all odds, the Order and their allies had won, and the werewolves had become heroes, putting Lukas in his present predicament. Cyril had died and been reborn as Lukas the night his mother had died, when he had fled the Gravenor estate. He had left behind his name, his inheritance, his life. He had fought to survive even though he wasn't always sure why, because there were times when death had almost seemed like it would be a blessed relief, as it had been for his mother. Almost. 

But something in him refused to lay down and die--the wolf's survival instinct, or perhaps just the knowledge that his parents would have wanted him to live. Cynric had fought so hard to protect his son; it seemed a waste to make his sacrifice mean nothing, and even Anya, though she had given in to despair, had wanted him to be strong. So Lukas lived, and though he treasured the memories of his parents, tucked them away in a distant corner of his mind and did not dwell on them too much, because the grief would overwhelm him if he did. It helped when he formed his pack, because then he had a family that he needed to protect, and it gave him a purpose for living.

But now, those old half-healed wounds had been torn open and bled anew. Gwen didn't understand how much it hurt just to look at her, to be reminded of his old life where, even though he had been a werewolf, he had been happy because his parents had loved him. Bittersweet memories of his parents flashed through his mind: Cynric, with his reckless courage, cradling a werewolf cub in his arms, and Anya, singing lullabies during the full moon, her sweet voice comforting and loving. Back then, when Cynric had still been alive, Anya had been strong in her own way; she had never allowed a hint of fear to enter her voice when she sang or whispered soothing words to her son, not even when the wolf howled and snarled, and threw its full weight against the door she was sitting just outside of.

Lukas had just enough self-control left to cast a silence spell on his room before he threw back his head and howled with grief and loneliness, his voice echoing off the walls of his room.

*** 

The students tiptoed nervously around Master Bleddri in class, even more so than they did around Snape. Their teacher no longer joked with them, or shouted out gruff encouragement, but was silent and moody, speaking only to give them curt instructions in Defense class. In Interspecies Relations, he assigned them a research project and sent them to the library, ending class early. Tristan had no idea what to say to his teacher-turned-cousin, and Bleddri, who would give him brooding, troubled glances, clearly didn't know what to say, either.

Tristan didn't know how he felt about all this. He liked Master Bleddri, but he had been proud to be named the Diggory heir, and he wasn't sure how he would feel if the title reverted to Bleddri. He would cede it in a heartbeat to Cedric, of course, but to a near stranger...? Tristan's mother was overjoyed to discover that her nephew was still alive, but Uncle Amos was furious, and Tristan was frightened and confused to have two of the people he loved at odds with each other. His mother sent him a long letter telling him stories about her childhood days with her beloved brother and nephew, and enclosed photographs of a handsome man who looked just like Bleddri, only better dressed and more well-groomed, a beautiful woman with dark hair and gentle eyes, and a small blond boy who must be Bleddri, except that the boy's eyes did not hold the bitterness that the elder Bleddri's did.

Uncle Amos, on the other hand, sent him a letter cautioning him to watch his step around Bleddri, saying that werewolves were dangerous monsters, Dark Creatures who may have been in league with the Death Eaters, no matter what the Daily Prophet said. He said it was true that the Diggorys and Gravenors had conspired to fake Cyril Diggory's death and keep him confined--but for his own good, to keep him from running loose and inflicting his curse on others. 

It might sound cruel, Uncle Amos said, but it had really been a compassionate decision--in the distant past, all werewolves had been slain as soon as their lycanthropy was discovered, even if they were children. Even these days, some families quietly did away with children who had the curse. But the Diggorys had not wanted to kill their grandson, only keep him safely confined. It had been a secret, of course, so as not to disgrace the family name. Ungrateful Cyril had not seen it that way, and had broken free and escaped, but Amos said that he supposed one could not expect a beast to know any better. Amos promised Tristan that he would protect their inheritance, and that he would never let "that beast" take it. 

Tristan's mother said in her letter, gently but firmly, that they must do the right thing and return the title to its proper heir. She said not to think of it as losing an inheritance, but as gaining a new family member. She assured Tristan that he would love Cyril when he got to know him, and that Cyril, while understandably wary of resuming his family ties, would eventually come around if they were patient and loving. Robert Ames also sent a letter; it did not say much, but Tristan got the impression that his father was not so eager for Tristan to give up the title. He told Tristan to be polite but cautious around Master Bleddri, and that perhaps some sort of compromise or settlement could be reached between Bleddri and the Diggorys.

"You're not going to let that werewolf take your inheritance, are you?" Stewart demanded during an R.A. meeting.

"Oh, shut up, Stewart!" Tristan snapped without thinking. "Don't call him a werewolf!"

"Well, he is one, isn't he?"

"He is, but you don't have to call him 'that werewolf'. He has a name."

"It's unthinkable!" Corbin said. "To let a non-human become head of a pureblood family--"

Dean frowned. "I thought it was the Death Eaters who were concerned about blood purity," the Muggle-born boy said in a sharp voice.

"This is a private matter," Isabelle said, interrupting to stop things before they got out of hand, "between the Diggory family. It is not something for the R.A. to interfere in." The boys reluctantly subsided, and Tristan gave Isabelle a grateful smile. "To get on with business...I believe that we must keep a close eye on the Slytherins from now on."

Dean nodded, looking angry. "Yes, they're blaming Gryffindor for the hex cast on Rosier--but of course we'd never do something like that!"

"I wonder who did?" Susan mused, frowning thoughtfully. 

Stewart grinned, and Isabelle kicked him under the table, and Stewart hastily schooled his features into a puzzled expression. "Yeah, I wonder who?"

"It was probably one of the Slytherins themselves," Isabelle said calmly. "Perhaps someone who is jealous of Dylan. There is a great deal of rivalry in that House, after all, and it would easy for them to shift the blame onto their old enemies in Gryffindor..."

"Those damn Slytherins!" Dean said. "Blaming us for something they did! I can't believe that Harry fell for it, and kicked me off the team!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Isabelle said soothingly. "But I think it is only a matter of time before the Slytherins show their true colors, and then everyone, including Harry, will see that we were right all along."

"You'll have to be very careful in Gryffindor," Stewart said gravely, "and watch for a retaliatory attack from Slytherin."

"I'll be on my guard," Dean said grimly. "I know Potter won't take my warning seriously, but there's a couple of guys in Gryffindor I can trust, who will watch out for attacks. I'd like to bring Jack and Andrew to our next meeting."

"They seem a bit hotheaded," Corbin said. "Are you sure they can be trusted to keep the R.A. a secret?"

"Yes," Dean said. "I'll make sure they understand how important it is." Corbin still looked skeptical, but went along with the others when they voted to admit Jack and Andrew into the R.A.

*** 

As Dean returned to the Gryffindor dorm from his meeting, he heard someone call, "Hey, Dean! I've been looking all over for you."

"Harry?" Dean said in a cool voice.

"Look," Harry said, "maybe I was a bit hasty in kicking you off the team..."

Dean waited smugly, expecting Harry to apologize to him, but soon found that he was sorely mistaken.

"I still think you were wrong to score a goal when the Slytherin team was occupied with rescuing Dylan," Harry continued earnestly. "Can't you see that's it not right? That it's better to show that we can win even when Slytherin is playing their best?"

Dean scowled, feeling angry because deep down inside, a part of him agreed with Harry even though he didn't want to admit it. "Don't tell me that the Slytherins wouldn't have done the same thing if our positions were reversed," he said defensively. "Can you see Rosier or Malfoy flying to your rescue?"

"Actually, I can," Harry said, looking a little surprised by his own words. "But that's not the point. We're Gryffindors, and we have to uphold the House honor and play fairly even if the other team doesn't."

"So did you just come here to lecture me again?" Dean asked.

"No," Harry said, giving him an exasperated look. "I wanted to tell you that I'll put you back on the team if you'll accept a one-game suspension--" 

Dean nodded reluctantly, but felt his spirits lift at the thought of being restored to the team. 

"--and apologize to the Slytherin team," Harry finished.

"What?!" Dean cried. "No way! I'll never apologize to those slimy gits!"

"Then I won't put you back on the team," Harry said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine!" Dean snapped. "I'd rather stay off the team than apologize to those...those...snakes!"

Seamus came up and whispered in his ear, "Don't be an idiot, Dean. Is your pride really worth being kicked off the team? Just apologize, and we'll prove to them that we can beat them fair and square in the finals."

Dean hesitated; it was the first offer of friendship Seamus had extended since their big fight. But in the end, he said, "I won't kiss those Slytherins' arses! Nor yours, Potter!" And he turned and stalked off to his room.

Harry sighed unhappily, and Seamus muttered, "I can't believe he's being such a git!"

*** 

Tristan nervously approached Lukas after class one day, saying in a timid voice, "Master Bleddri?"

"Yes, Mr. Ames-Diggory?" Lukas asked politely but wearily. It was less than a week till the full moon, and he was feeling more tired and sore than usual, despite the improved Wolfsbane Potion. He knew that it was probably due more to stress than any deficiency of the potion.

"M-my mother sent me some pictures of you and your family," Tristan said hesitantly. "I thought maybe you would like to see them." And he held out the snapshots of Cynric, Anya, and Cyril.

The old pain and grief shot through Lukas, as if someone had just stabbed him with a blade that had been heated till it was red-hot. Unthinkingly, he slapped the pictures out of Tristan's hands, and they fell to the floor as the boy jumped back, looking hurt and frightened. 

"I'm sorry, Tristan," he said in a low growl, feeling ashamed of himself. "You caught me off-guard and I'm always short-tempered near the full moon." He bent down and picked up the photos, and the boy cautiously moved a little closer. "It's just that these stir up painful memories."

"I'm sorry, Master Bleddri," Tristan said in a small voice.

Lukas gave him the photos back and patted him on the head. "I know you meant well, child," he said gruffly. "I'm sorry I startled you. It's just...difficult. I thought I had put my old life behind me. I never intended to go back to the pureblood world."

"Are you going to fight Uncle Amos for the title?" Tristan asked.

"I'm not sure," Lukas replied, staring at the boy intently. "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know," Tristan replied. "I'm kind of confused. I've gotten used to the idea of being the Diggory heir. I wanted to carry on in Cedric's place, since he can't be here, but I know it would make Mum happy if you came back."

Lukas smiled a little. "Well, at least you're honest, boy. I'll tell you what--I won't make any decision without discussing it with you and your parents first, all right?"

Tristan gave him a tentative smile. "Yes, Master Bleddri. Um...or should I call you 'Cousin Cyril'?"

Lukas winced. "No, I'm not used to being called by that name anymore. Let's stick to 'Master Bleddri'."

"Yes, sir." Tristan turned to leave.

"Wait!"

"Sir?"

Lukas had fled the shack on the Gravenor estate with little more than the clothes on his back; he had no pictures of his parents, only the memories in his head. "Maybe...maybe I would like to see those pictures, after all."

Tristan smiled and handed them to him. "Keep them, sir. I'm sure Mum would want you to have them."

Lukas shoved them into his pocket, and only when he was alone in his quarters with the door locked behind him, did he take them out and look at them. He just sat there staring at them, for over an hour, as if paralyzed, unable to even lift his hand to wipe away the tears that were sliding down his face.

When he didn't show up for his next class, Dumbledore and Lupin eventually came looking for him. There was a knock at the door, and Lupin's concerned voice called out, "Lukas? Are you in there? Are you all right?"

That startled Lukas out of his stupor. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and hid the photos beneath a book on the coffee table, then got up to answer the door. "Yes?"

"You missed your first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "The students were very worried about you."

Lukas glanced at the clock and suddenly realized how much time had passed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I guess I lost track of time."

"You can't go on like this," Lupin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The students have all been tiptoeing around you in Physical Defense, and you haven't really been teaching your Interspecies Relations classes--"

"So fire me," Lukas said to Dumbledore brusquely, almost hoping that he would.

But Dumbledore shook his head, and Lukas felt strangely relieved. "We're just concerned about you, Lukas, and so are your students. Perhaps you need to take a little time off to sort things out."

"It's really hard to think this close to the full moon," Lukas admitted. "I keep wanting to snarl at everyone."

"Well, Severus is like that all the time," Lupin said lightly, "and he doesn't have the full moon as an excuse."

Lukas laughed a little, then sighed, "I don't really know what to do. I'm not sure I have the strength to fight for the title. I won't just be taking on Amos, but all of the pureblood elite."

"Not all of them," Lupin said. "The Snape family is on your side."

Lukas shook his head. "I still don't understand that. Lady Selima allowed her own son to be disowned for associating the Death Eaters. Did she really love my mother so much that she's willing to risk her social standing to help a werewolf?"

"The Snapes have a strong code of honor," Lupin said, "though I confess I don't understand exactly how it works. But Selima once told me that she had only a few true friends, and that all of them were dead. I suppose that kind of friendship would mean a lot to someone who had been raised among the Slytherin elite, who are always scheming for power at each other's expense." Lupin smiled. "Or perhaps she thinks that if you become head of the Diggory family, my relationship with Severus will seem slightly less scandalous in comparison."

"As a student, Selima was always a very guarded young woman," Dumbledore said. "She gave her loyalty to only a few people, but once given, it was always steadfast and unswerving. In that, she is like her son, although I doubt that either of them would admit it."

"By the way, Albus," Lupin said curiously, "who was Selima's old flame at Hogwarts?"

The old wizard's eyes twinkled merrily. "Selima was a very beautiful girl, Remus. At least half the boys in the school were infatuated with her."

"But there was one boy in particular, wasn't there?" Lupin persisted. "A suitor that her parents did not find suitable, at least in comparison to Severin Snape?"

"Oh, Selima was very discreet," Dumbledore said, his eyes still twinkling. "She never openly favored one suitor over another, or did anything else that might bring embarrassment or disgrace upon her family. No, I'm afraid you'll have to ask Lady Selima herself if you want to know the answer to that question."

"She won't tell me," Lupin sighed.

"Lady Selima doesn't wish to discuss her lovelife with a werewolf?" Lukas asked sarcastically. "Now that's a surprise!"

Lupin grinned. "I'm relieved to hear you sounding like your old self again, my friend!"

"Maybe I will take a few days off," Lukas told Dumbledore. "Spend some time with my pack, get my head on straight. Maybe after the full moon passes, I'll be able to think more clearly." He sighed. "And it's hard to think rationally, when I have to see Tristan every day. He looks so much like my uncle and my grandfather."

"But also like Gwendolyn," Lupin reminded him gently.

"Yes," Lukas said softly. "The only Diggory other than my parents that I cared about. But in some ways, that makes it even harder."

"Go be with your pack," Dumbledore said, patting him on the shoulder in a fatherly manner. He meant well, so Lukas repressed the automatic urge to snarl at him. "Take all the time you need. It won't hurt to suspend your classes for a short period of time."

Lukas grinned, baring his teeth in a wolfish manner. "Oh, you won't have to suspend the classes, Headmaster. I have a substitute in mind..."

*** 

When Lukas broke the news to his pack, the younger wolves were excited, as he had expected. "Wow, that's great, Lukas!" a young werewolf, just barely out of his teens exclaimed. "Imagine, one of us, a great Lord!"

"The Diggory family isn't really that wealthy," Lukas said dryly. "At least, not compared to the Malfoys or the Snapes. That's partly because my father burned through the family wealth trying to find a cure for me, which is a sore point with my dear old Uncle Amos."

"But rich compared to us!" the young werewolf laughed.

"Will we all live in a mansion?" another asked excitedly.

"I always knew you were something special," Kyra said with a grin. "You weren't just an ordinary street thug, or even your everyday werewolf--" Everyone laughed at the thought of a werewolf being "ordinary". "That's why I decided to follow you. There was something..." She paused to search for the right words. "An aura of power about you, I guess you'd say. I just knew, somehow, that I could trust you. That you would protect us. That you would make us into something more than just a starveling pack of werewolves."

The older wolves, who had been with Lukas the longest, were a little more circumspect. The grizzled werewolf with the patchwork coat of animal hides (whose rabbit stew had made Martin queasy at Brian's wedding) frowned and said, "It's dangerous, meddling in pureblood business."

"We're as good as any of them!" the first werewolf said defiantly. "We're equal under the law!"

"But not in the eyes of the purebloods," Brian said. Though young, he had been raised as a pureblood, and understood his pack leader's fears and reservations. "It's said that some of them, particularly the Slytherin families, have quietly disposed of members who might stain the family honor. Such as a bastard child with Muggle blood, or a child infected with lycanthropy." Silence fell over the room. "Most times, they would be disowned, as I was, or locked out of sight, as Lukas was, but I am sure that in some cases, the families were desperate and ruthless enough to commit murder."

"Do you think that your father was murdered?" Kyra asked Lukas quietly.

"I really don't know," Lukas replied. "I wish I did. Or maybe I don't, because if I knew for sure, I might be honor-bound to kill Amos, which would earn me a life sentence in Azkaban at best."

"No!" protested the werewolf who wanted to live in a mansion. "You can't leave us! You're the pack leader; what would we do without you?"

"We could kill him in secret!" another werewolf suggested. "A knife between the ribs as he's walking alone--"

"You moron!" Lukas snarled, cuffing him sharply on the ear. "Don't you know that I'd be the first one they'd suspect if Amos were killed? People would say that all werewolves are murderers and monsters after all, and you would have thrown away all the goodwill that we earned in the war!"

"I didn't think of that," the werewolf said sheepishly.

"That's why he's the pack leader and you're not," Kyra pointed out in a wry voice.

"Besides, I don't know that my father was murdered," Lukas continued. "It might really have been an accident."

"Even if it wasn't," Brian said practically, "I don't think that Amos Diggory would try to murder you now. If you would be the most likely suspect in his murder, he would likewise be the most likely suspect in yours. Even if you are a werewolf, he cannot just kill you with impunity when you are a hero of the war and a friend of Dumbledore." 

"We will support you, Lukas, whatever you decide," Rachel said quietly. "If you wish to take on the purebloods and fight for your inheritance, we will stand by your side. If you do not, no one will fault you. We have all left behind our past lives and started over. No matter what, you are our pack leader, and we are your pack." The other werewolves murmured their assent, and bowed their heads.

"Thank you," Lukas said. It had been the right decision to come home and be among his pack; he had let his human self brood and worry over it too much. "I need some time to think it over. I'm staying here for the rest of the week; I need to be away from the humans for a little while."

The youngest wolves laughed and turned cartwheels on the floor, acting like a bunch of puppies. "Lukas is home, Lukas is home!" they chorused, and the pack leader grinned; he had missed his wolves, and they had missed him. 

"Oof!" he shouted, as one particularly exuberant werewolf jumped on him and hugged him from behind.

"I still want to live in a mansion, Lukas!"

"Get off me, you idiot! You're not a cub anymore!" Lukas lightly cuffed the young werewolf, who recognized it as a playful gesture rather than an angry one, and just laughed and joined the others who were capering around their pack leader.

"Puppies," the grizzled werewolf said in a tone of long-suffering patience.

"They're just excited that you're back, Lukas," Rachel said with a smile. "They miss you."

"Is it really okay for you to stay away from Hogwarts that long?" Kyra asked.

"Funny you should ask that," Lukas said with a grin. "I need to ask you a favor. Do you think you could rearrange your work schedule at the Menagerie for a few days?"

*** 

"I'm Kyra Lowell-Perry," a thin, wiry woman with short black hair announced to the class, "and I'll be teaching you while Master Bleddri is gone." She cast off her patched and faded wizard's robe to reveal that she was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans beneath it, and both of her ears were covered with a row of bright, cheap-looking earrings from lobe to tip.

"Muggle clothes!" Pansy exclaimed, with a kind of horrified fascination. 

"Yes," Kyra said calmly, "and much more comfortable to fight in than robes."

"Where's Master Bleddri?" Goyle asked, looking concerned. "Is he sick? He skipped all his classes after first period yesterday."

"Master Bleddri is taking some personal time off," Kyra replied. "He should be back next week."

"Is he gonna become head of the Diggory family?" Crabbe asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Kyra replied, feeling a little puzzled by how happy the pureblood boy sounded at that prospect. "You can ask him when he comes back. I'm just here to teach."

"You?" Crabbe asked dubiously, looking at the slender woman. "I don't mean to be rude ma'am, but I don't want to hurt you..."

Kyra grinned, exposing sharp canine teeth. "Oh, don't worry; you won't."

Aric, of course, recognized her from his trip to the werewolf clinic. "She's a werewolf, you dolt!" he hissed.

"Really?" Crabbe asked brightly. "Wow, that's cool!"

Kyra shook her head in bemusement. "I thought Lukas was pulling my leg," she muttered, more to herself than the class, "but I see he was telling the truth when he said that his students liked werewolves." Then she shook her head and said briskly, "Okay, let's get to work!"

The boys still automatically held back a little when sparring with the small, slim woman, but they soon found out that was a mistake when she threw Crabbe and Goyle flat on their backs.

"Ooh, that hurts," Goyle groaned.

"Lesson number one," Kyra said with a merciless grin. "Never underestimate your opponent."

"Wow, you're so strong!" Pansy said admiringly.

"But werewolves are stronger than humans," Parvati objected. "We could never do that!"

"Oh yes, you can," Kyra told her. "It's true that I'm stronger than a normal human, but I can teach you how to use a larger and stronger opponent's weight against him. It's all a matter of balance." She grinned again and said, "When I'm done with you, you'll never have to worry about a boy getting fresh with you again!"

The girls giggled. "But what if we want him to get fresh with us?" Lavender asked archly.

"All well and good, then," Kyra replied with a wink. "But if he puts his hands someplace you don't want him to, well, you'll be able to put him in his place!"

The girls, who except for Millicent, normally disliked the Physical Defense lessons (Parvati complained that it made her sweaty and Pansy worried about breaking her long nails), clamored eagerly for Kyra to teach them. All the boys, except for Theodore and Blaise, began to look a little worried. "I'm not sure this is such a great idea," Draco muttered, having visions of his arm being broken by Pansy at the Yule Ball. Then again, he probably wouldn't have to worry about that since the Parkinsons no longer wanted her to date him, which, quite frankly, didn't exactly break his heart.

Theodore and Blaise snickered. "Maybe we'd better warn Damien not to 'get fresh' with Parvati," Blaise said with a grin.

"I hope Master Bleddri comes back soon!" Ron groaned.

*** 

Meanwhile, Ron had other problems. He passed the written portion of his Herbology mid-term exam--not with flying colors, but he had passed. However, he failed disastrously on the practical portion, which had involved raising and harvesting a patch of nettles, as well as a Mimbulus mimbletonia plant. The class had been caring for the plants since start of term, and Ron's were withered and dying.

"Do you know how rare the Mimbulus mimbletonia is?" Sprout cried. "I thought I could entrust these to my advanced students, but I see that I was wrong!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Ron mumbled.

"And nettles!" Sprout continued. "It's an assignment a first-year could have completed! I only gave it to you because Professor Snape needed more nettles for his Potions classes! Do you know that Muggles consider them to be weeds? That they actually have difficulty killing them? Yet you seem to have managed it without even trying!"

"I guess I don't have a green thumb, ma'am," Ron said weakly.

"Are you trying to be funny, Mr. Weasley?" Sprout asked indignantly.

"No, ma'am!" he hastily demurred. "It's just...Herbology's not my best subject, and my other classes have been keeping me busy, too..."

Sprout frowned. The seventh-years were under a lot of stress, preparing for their N.E.W.T.s, and it probably wouldn't be wise to flunk the Minister of Magic's son. But still, she could not give a passing grade to a student who didn't deserve it. After some thought, she decided to offer Mr. Weasley a chance at redemption. "I think perhaps you need a little extra tutoring, Mr. Weasley."

"Tutoring?"

"Yes," Sprout said firmly. "Report here afterschool. I'll ask one of my best students to tutor you, Mr. Weasley. One hour per day, three days a week. That should get you up to speed."

"Extra lessons?" Ron groaned. "But what about Quidditch practice?"

"Do you want to pass or not, Mr. Weasley?" Sprout snapped. "Or should I tell your mother that you're planning to fail Herbology?"

Ron went white at the thought of facing his mother's wrath. "No, no," he pleaded, "don't do that! I'll work hard, I promise!"

"I'll try to rearrange the practice schedule," Harry said. "And it's just till you get caught up, right?"

"We'll see how he's progressed at the end of term," Sprout said. "But if you expect to get a passing grade, you had better revive that Mimbulus plant!"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said in a resigned tone.

After class, he said, "Thank God we don't share Herbology with the Slytherins! Can you imagine Draco? He'd be laughing at me for needing remedial lessons!"

"Oh, Draco's not that bad, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "And if you'd taken better care of your plants, you wouldn't need the tutoring."

"Gee, thanks a lot," he said sarcastically. "By the way, are you going to be doing the tutoring?"

"Sprout didn't ask me to," Hermione replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she said her best student was going to do it, and I figure you're the best at everything."

"Maybe not everything," Hermione said, but she looked pleased. "I am pretty busy, what with all our homework and our N.E.W.T.s coming up, and..." She blushed.

"And finding a little free time to spend with lover boy," Ron supplied dryly.

"Well, Dylan and I are in different Houses and years," Hermione said, her face still red. "So we don't get to see each other as often as we'd like. But still, if you need help studying, I'll be happy to help you." Ron looked gratified by this. "But if Professor Sprout wanted me to tutor you, wouldn't she have said something in class?"

"I wonder who it is, then," Ron mused. "Maybe Lisa Turpin?" The Ravenclaw girl got high grades, nearly as good as Hermione's, and she was very pretty. That might not be so bad...

"Maybe it's Malfoy," Harry teased.

"Don't even joke about that!" Ron said, looking horrified. "Please Merlin, anyone but Malfoy!" 

His tutor wasn't Malfoy, but was a Slytherin, and Ron didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. He went to the greenhouse, and found Professor Sprout and Daphne Greengrass waiting for him. "Oh...hi," he said unenthusiastically.

"Hi," Daphne said, politely but not sounding too thrilled herself.

"Miss Greengrass is my best Herbology student," Sprout said proudly, "and has kindly agreed to tutor you. I'll leave the two of you to it, then."

Ron remembered then that Daphne's family were florists, so he supposed it made sense that she was good in Herbology, but it still surprised him that the quiet, unassuming girl was "best" in something. Ron thought wistfully that it would be nice to be "best" at one thing, but so far he hadn't figured out what that was yet. 

"Well, let's get started, then," Daphne said, breaking the awkward silence. "Let me take a look at your Mimbulus mimbletonia." She examined the plant, being careful not to touch the stinksap-spewing boils. "What have you done to it?" she cried in dismay. "The poor thing is dying!"

"I don't know," Ron replied irritably. "That's what you're here for, remember?"

The Slytherin girl seemed to forget her shyness, and questioned him in thorough detail about how he had taken care of the plant. He was a bit vague about how often he had watered it and such, but through careful questioning, having him go over his daily activities one by one, Daphne was able to get him to recall much more than he thought he could.

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "You tend to forget to water it for several days, then try to make up for it by giving it a lot of extra water. That won't work; it's a desert plant, and giving it too much water at once is bad for it. And it needs more sunlight; you need to remember to put it outside to get some sun every day, or if you can't, use an artificial light spell on it. Basically, you need to remember to tend to it daily. Write yourself notes, or set your alarm clock--whatever it takes to remind yourself not to forget about it."

"I can tell Hermione, then she'll be sure to nag me to death about it every day," Ron muttered, and Daphne actually smiled a little, though she quickly blushed and looked away when she saw Ron looking at her.

That puzzled Ron; none of the other Slytherins were so shy and timid. "So can we save the plant? Sprout says she'll flunk me if we can't."

"It's in bad shape," Daphne said, gently stroking the plant, still careful to avoid the boils, "but I think it will recover if you take good care of it. A little mooncalf dung fertilizer might help." Ron made a face. "Do you want to pass the class or not?"

"Okay, okay," Ron said. "Sun, not too much water, mooncalf dung. Got it."

"And...um..." Daphne hesitated.

"What?" Ron asked.

"You're going to think this sounds silly..."

"If it'll help me pass, I can handle silly," Ron said. "We Weasleys are very familiar with silly; my brothers are the ones who invented Canary Creams, after all."

Another quick, timid smile crossed Daphne's lips. "You could try talking to your plant."

"You're not having me on, are you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No!" she protested. "I know it sounds crazy, but it really seems to work, especially for magical plants. They like music, too--but soft, soothing music, not the kind of stuff the Weird Sisters play."

Ron gave her another suspicious look, but she seemed perfectly serious. On the other hand, she could be crazy like Luna Lovegood, but people like that usually didn't worry that other people might think they were crazy. Luna thought all of her loony ideas were perfectly reasonable. "Okay," he finally said. "You're the expert. Besides, I'm so desperate, I'll try anything."

Daphne went over in detail how he should care for the Mimbulus plant--precisely how much water, sunlight, and mooncalf dung it needed. The talking part, she told Ron when he asked, was subjective. "I should give you to Allegra," Ron told the plant. "She loves to talk. No--she might talk your ears off, except that you don't have any. Ears, that is. Still, if too much water is bad for a plant, maybe too much talking would be bad, too."

Daphne giggled. "I don't know. No one's ever tried to talk a plant to death before."

"If anyone can do it, Allegra can," Ron said with a grin. "But she's a sweet kid."

"Is there anything else we need to go over?" Daphne asked.

"Um...I did okay on the written exam, but not great. All these herbs have names that sound alike, and I keep getting them mixed up: sneezewort, soapwort, St. John's wort..."

"Okay," Daphne said. "We can work on that next time. See you Friday?"

"Sure," Ron said. "Listen, Daphne...thanks for helping me out."

"It's no problem," Daphne said with a smile.

"And...could I ask a favor of you?" Ron said hesitantly. "Would you mind not telling Malfoy and his buddies that you're tutoring me?"

Daphne's smile suddenly vanished, and that shy--except, Ron realized, that it was not so much shy as almost fearful--look was back on her face again. "You don't have to worry, Ron," she said quietly. "The likes of the Malfoys don't associate with the likes of me." Then she abruptly turned and left the greenhouse.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ron asked the Mimbulus.

*** 

Lukas went in to work at the werewolf clinic that weekend, and was pleasantly surprised to see Lupin drop by with some Wolfsbane Potion and boxes of clothing and toys.

"It's good to see you, Remus. Let me help you with those boxes."

Lupin smiled. "I'm glad to see that you seem to be feeling better, Lukas."

"Much better," Lukas assured him. "Being with my pack helped a lot. I've been spending too much time away from them. I should stop by more often, even if it's just on the weekends, or for a couple of hours in the evenings."

"Have you reached a decision yet?" Lupin asked hesitantly.

"Don't worry, Remus, I won't bite your head off this time," Lukas assured him, and the other werewolf laughed. "No, I haven't really decided yet. I promised Tristan that I would talk it over with him and his parents first; it's not fair to just take the title away from the boy. But I won't try to run from the past anymore. Whether I take the title or not, I won't hide the fact that I'm a Diggory, and if Amos doesn't like that, he can kiss my arse."

Lupin laughed again. "Does this mean that you're changing your name? Should we start calling you 'Cyril' or 'Master Diggory'?"

"I don't know," Lukas said. "Cyril seems like a totally different person, and Lukas really is my name; it's just that it's my middle name. I suppose maybe I didn't want to completely sever my ties to the past, after all. I don't know about changing my last name, either. 'Wolf King' sounds much more dramatic than 'Diggory,' doesn't it?" 

"It's very descriptive," Lupin laughed.

"And it's not like people won't know that I'm really a Diggory," Lukas continued. "I'm sure the gossip has spread like wildfire through the wizarding world. Although I will have to change my name if I do fight for, and by some miracle, win the Lordship of the estate."

"I thought I heard your voice, Remus," Takeshi Kimura said, stepping out of the examining room into the hall.

"Hi, Takeshi," Lupin said cheerfully. "Severus and his Advanced Potions students made up an extra batch of Wolfsbane Potion."

"That's wonderful," Takeshi said. "I've just started a new batch, but we were running a little low. Is Aric here with you today?"

"No," Lupin said ruefully. "I'm afraid that it's highly unlikely that we'd get him to come here voluntarily, and he hasn't done anything to warrant detention recently."

"Oh," Takeshi said, looking puzzled and a little disappointed, which in turn puzzled Lupin and Lukas. "But he seemed to enjoy himself the last time, and it would be good experience for an aspiring mediwizard--"

"What?" the two werewolves chorused in surprise.

"Didn't he tell you?" Takeshi asked.

"Apparently not," Lupin said. "I didn't even know that he had confided in you. Did he mention something to you during his last visit, or has he been in touch with you since then?"

"He wrote to say that he was interested in becoming a mediwizard like his uncle and wanted my advice," Takeshi replied. "That was...let's see...about a week after his visit here. We've been corresponding regularly ever since. You really didn't know?"

"I hadn't a clue," Lupin said.

"Hmm," Lukas said thoughtfully. "So he wants to be a mediwizard, eh? A job that involves helping people seems a bit out of character for Mr. Dietrich. I'd have thought he'd want to go into the Ministry like most ambitious Slytherins."

"But he worshiped his Uncle Rafe," Lupin said quietly. "Both he and Theo did."

Takeshi nodded solemnly. "He never mentioned his uncle by name in his letters, but it was easy enough to figure out. Rafe Dietrich was very well-liked at St. Mungo's. I never knew him, of course, since I only started working there a couple of years ago, but most of the other Healers and nurses and mediwizards remember him. None of them really believed that story about Rafe running off with a girl. They say he was impulsive, but very responsible, and wouldn't have just quit his job without notice."

"I'm surprised that Aric has been writing to you," Lupin said. "He's never mentioned anything about wanting to become a mediwizard, but then I suppose I would hardly be the first person that he'd confide in."

"I think he's a little lonely," Takeshi said. "He doesn't seem to have made many friends in Slytherin."

"Well, insulting the Head of House's son and his friends on your very first day of school isn't likely to make you popular," Lukas pointed out sarcastically.

Takeshi looked confused, and Lupin explained, "Aric bears a grudge against the Nott family because Thaddeus Nott killed Rafe. And since Thaddeus and his wife are dead, all of Aric's hostility has become focused on his cousin Theodore."

"Professor Snape's new heir, who used to be a Nott," Takeshi said, nodding. "I see. Well, Aric hasn't mentioned anything about that. Mostly he asks me what sort of things he should be studying in order to become a mediwizard. And he talks about how he's doing in his classes--he was very pleased with how his Summoning project turned out, even though he complained about having to work with 'the so-called savior of the wizarding world' and 'that arrogant git Malfoy'. He also seems to enjoy your Physical Defense lessons, Lukas. But don't tell him that I told you that." Takeshi grinned at the stunned looks on the werewolves' faces. "And he complains a lot about Professor Snape, but I think he finds his Potions assignments challenging."

"My, Mr. Dietrich seems quite verbose in his letters," Lukas said, looking bemused. "He barely says a word in class, except to occasionally insult one of the other students. Mostly he just scowls and looks sullen."

"He's the same in my classes," Lupin said. "I think Takeshi's right; he must be lonely. Aric has made a few casual friends among the younger Slytherins, but I don't think he's close to any of them." Lupin smiled warmly at the young mediwizard. "I'm glad he's found someone that he can confide in. Please continue to be a friend to him, Takeshi."

"Of course," Takeshi said. "I've been enjoying our correspondence, and I welcome the chance to recruit a student into the medical profession, particularly one who's not afraid to work with werewolves."

"That gives me an idea!" Lupin said, clapping his hands together as his blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "I'll propose to Albus that we have a Career Fair at Hogwarts! We had one once when I was a student, but I don't think there's been one at the school in recent years, although various businesses do give pamphlets to the Heads of House to hand out to their students. You could come and represent St. Mungo's, Takeshi, and perhaps we could get representatives from Gringotts and the Ministry as well. Sirius is a Ministry official now; I'm sure he'd be willing to come, and maybe we could get Mr. Jigger to come and discuss Potions as a career. He's looking for an apprentice, and he mentioned once that he'd like to recruit Dylan."

"That's a wonderful idea, Remus!" Takeshi said, getting caught up in Lupin's enthusiasm. "I'll have to ask the Healer-in-Charge at St. Mungo's for permission, but I'm sure he'll give it. We're always looking for talented new recruits, and Chizuru told my parents that there's a girl at Hogwarts with a full Healing Gift, and several students with minor Gifts."

"Cassidy could come talk about his career as an inventor," Lupin continued, "and Severus knows many people in the academic world. Maybe Lady Selima could even get someone from the Bashir family to talk about their work as traders. Well, I don't think that they approve of me, but maybe Ali Bashir might be willing..."

"I don't know if there are any aspiring chefs at Hogwarts, but my parents could come talk about running a restaurant..."

Lukas scratched his chin, still looking bemused as Lupin and Takeshi eagerly laid out plans for the Career Fair. "Maybe Mr. Dietrich isn't a hopeless case after all," he conceded. "How do you do it, Remus? How do you manage to charm these arrogant pureblood brats? The Gryffindors I can see, but the Slytherins...? They normally despise creatures such as us."

Lupin grinned at him. "Well, perhaps Takeshi deserves more credit for Aric than I do, but to answer your question, Lukas...I am patient, persistent, and infinitely stubborn. I just keep being relentlessly nice to them until they finally break down and surrender. Merlin knows I've had plenty of practice--it took me nearly twenty years to win Severus over, you know. Next to him, the Slytherin children are a piece of cake."

Lukas threw back his head and laughed out loud. "True enough--taming the Potions Master was a miracle in itself! I swear, Remus, that if the pureblood elite bowed down and kissed your feet one day, it would not surprise me!"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Lupin said with a smile.

Takeshi, who only a few years ago had been one of Snape's Potions students and still found his old teacher somewhat intimidating, said, "And I certainly wouldn't tell Professor Snape that you think Remus 'tamed' him!" Then all three of them burst out laughing.

*** 

"It's an excellent idea, Remus!" Dumbledore said when Lupin brought up the idea of a Career Fair. Most of the other teachers agreed, and made suggestions of their own as to which businesses to invite. Snape just shrugged and said, a little skeptically, "Well, I suppose it can't hurt."

"I still can't picture Dietrich as a mediwizard or Healer," Snape told Lupin when they were alone in their quarters together. "He doesn't exactly have what you'd call a comforting bedside manner."

Lupin chuckled. "He's young; he has time to learn. Besides, believe it or not, there are some people who take exception to your teaching methods, yet they seem to have been effective."

"Don't presume to compare that child to me," Snape said, sounding a little insulted. "He may be arrogant and annoying, but no one is terrified of him the way the students are of me." He looked rather proud of that statement, and Lupin chuckled again. "Or at least they were, until you ruined my reputation," Snape added in a disgruntled tone.

Lupin just grinned at him. "A Healer can't be all sweetness and light, though, come to think of it. I think at times they have to be a bit of a bully; I've seen Madam Pomfrey order a reluctant patient to drink a dreadful-tasting potion or submit to a particularly painful healing spell."

"Which reminds me," Snape said sternly, "it's time for you to take your potion."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said meekly, although his eyes were still laughing. 

He started to rise from his seat on the couch, but Snape said gruffly, "Stay. I'll get it." So Lupin sat while Snape got up and headed over to the fireplace, where he had a cauldron already simmering. Snape ladled out the smoking potion into the ugly brass goblet he had bought at the Zabinis' junk shop, then handed it solemnly to Lupin, who smiled. The handing and accepting of the goblet of potion had become something of a ritual with them, ever since Lupin had returned to Hogwarts four years ago. 

Lupin drank down the potion quickly, and as awful as it tasted, he savored it, not just because it helped him keep his sanity during the full moon, but because its very existence was a sign of Severus's love for him, because the Potions Master had created it for his sake, with the help of the Japanese wizard Naoto Kamiyama. So instead of grimacing as he normally did, Lupin smiled as if he were drinking down the finest vintage in the Snapes' wine cellar.

Snape gave him a puzzled look. "Does the potion taste different this month, Remus?" he asked, sounding a little worried.

"Why don't you see for yourself, Severus?" Lupin whispered in a husky voice, leaning in close with his lips parted. Snape covered Lupin's mouth with his, leisurely sweeping his tongue through Lupin's mouth, running it along Lupin's teeth and tongue and the roof of his mouth.

After a very lengthy exploration that left Lupin breathless, Snape pulled back and said with an air of professional satisfaction, "No, it seems to taste as awful as it always does."

"Then I suppose you don't want to kiss me anymore," Lupin said, giving him a well-practiced mournful look.

"I didn't say that," Snape purred, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist, pulled him close, and kissed him hard. Lupin moaned into Snape's mouth, their tongues entwining together; the bitterness of aconite had never tasted so sweet. 

With their bodies pressed so close together, it was impossible for Lupin to hide his rapidly growing arousal, and Snape broke off the kiss to grin at his lover. "Ah, that's right, the full moon is almost upon us."

"I don't need the full moon as an excuse to desire you, my love," Lupin whispered into Snape's ear, gently nipping at the lobe; the Potions Master gasped softly. "I enjoy making love with you any day of the month." He paused, his mouth moving lower to nip gently at Snape's neck, but Snape's high-collared robe was getting in the way, so Lupin deftly unfastened it, and the shirt beneath it, and pushed them aside. "Or night." Another nip, teeth gently pressing into soft skin. "Or morning." Another nip, harder this time, enough to leave a dark bruise on white flesh; Snape gasped again, a little more loudly. "Or afternoon. Or--"

"Enough, Lupin!" Snape growled, although a small part of him was curious to know how many different segments Lupin could carve a single day into. But not all that curious--not with an amorous werewolf nibbling on his ear and neck. "Lupin," he said impatiently, "have I ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Many times," Lupin said, then playfully leered at the Potions Master. "So why don't you give my mouth something else to occupy itself with?"

That leer, Snape would later claim, was the reason why they never made it to the bedroom that night. The normally obstinate Slytherin obeyed Lupin with commendable promptness, pushing the werewolf down on the couch, covering Lupin's body and mouth with his own. Snape's tongue teasingly darted in and out of Lupin's mouth, and the werewolf let out a muffled groan, his body arching up off the couch to grind his hips against Snape's. Snape responded in kind, their bodies writhing together--a little too enthusiastically, because they fell off the couch onto the floor, and Snape let out a yelp of pain and a sharp curse as his hip struck the edge of the coffee table and knocked it over. 

Fortunately, there was no chess set on it tonight, only Lupin's empty goblet. Snape shoved the table out of the way, and they ended up on the rug in front of the fireplace, where the cauldron of Wolfsbane Potion was still simmering. The unpleasant odor permeated the room, but Snape was too caught up in the moment to notice. Lupin, with his keen wolf senses, was well aware of it, but didn't mind, because that scent reminded him of his mate's devotion, and it only served to sharpen his desire and at the same time fill him with tenderness. Lupin laughed a little; this was probably the first time that aconite had functioned as an aphrodisiac for a werewolf!

That feeling of tenderness kept their lovemaking from being as rushed and frenzied as it normally was this close to the full moon. They struggled out of their clothes quickly, but once they were undressed, Lupin wanted to take his time and drink in the sight of the firelight playing against his lover's pale skin. He wanted to kiss and caress every inch of his lover's body, and set about doing so in a methodical yet unhurried manner. He nuzzled Severus's smooth, thick black hair, and kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, and his mouth. He delicately ran his tongue along the curve of each ear as his hands traced the sharp lines of Severus's collarbone, then slowly ran down the planes of his chest. Severus's breathing grew louder, and more ragged. Lupin planted a gentle kiss in the hollow of his lover's throat, ran his hands down Severus's arms, then lifted fingertips to his mouth to be kissed. 

Lupin kissed his way down Snape's chest and stomach, then lightly pressed his lips against the bruise forming on Snape's hip where he had struck the coffee table. As Lupin trailed his fingers up the inside of lover's thigh, Snape said, "Remus," in a low, urgent voice. There was a plea in his black eyes, but he did not voice it aloud. It had become a little game with them, for Snape to tease Lupin until he begged for release, a sweet torment in which Lupin was a willing participant. 

Snape, however, hated begging for anything, even in fun, and rarely said the word "please" in anything other than sarcasm--an understandable reaction, Lupin felt, for a former Death Eater who had spent more years than Lupin liked to think about kneeling in subservience at the Dark Lord's feet, not to mention the years spent growing up in Snape Manor without love or affection, only cold attention to duty with the occasional Cruciatus Curse thrown in as punishment for childish misbehavior.

Lupin liked to tease the Potions Master a little at times, but never to the point where he had to beg. Aside from not wanting to stir up painful memories, Lupin never wanted Severus--who, for so many years, had refused to believe that anyone could love him--to have to plead for love or pleasure. He wanted to give it freely and unstintingly, until maybe one day in the future, Severus would not regard it as a miracle that someone actually loved and desired him.

In spite of that, Lupin treasured the look of awe that filled his lover's eyes when he said, "I love you, Severus."

"I love you, too, Remus," Snape whispered, reaching up to caress Lupin's cheek gently and reverently, as if touching something incredibly fragile and precious.

_Precious, I hope,_ Lupin thought with a touch of amusement mingled with tenderness, _but definitely not fragile!_

He reached into the pile of their discarded clothing for his wand, and summoned a small jar into his hand. He unscrewed the lid and a sweet scent wafted out, slightly offsetting the bitter and acrid smell of the Wolfsbane Potion. It was actually a bit too sweet and cloying for the wolf's taste, but Lupin had come to associate the scent with their lovemaking, and he smiled dreamily and said, "I love the smell of lavender."

Snape grinned and dipped a finger in the jar, then reached up and ran it across Lupin's cheek, down his neck, lingering briefly at his throat, then down the center of his chest, along the breastbone, leaving a sweet, oily trail along Lupin's skin; the werewolf shivered with pleasure. Snape chuckled, in that low, wicked voice of his, and said, "I had a hard time keeping a straight face in my Advanced Potions class the other day; I've been teaching the students to distill lavender oil themselves instead of just using the ready-made supply in the Potions stores. And you must be right about Theodore and Zabini; I think I saw Blaise blush."

"You Slytherins blush so easily for such a cynical lot," Lupin laughed. Snape reached for the jar, and Lupin growled, "Let me." He dipped his hand in the oil and stroked Severus, who was already half-hard, to full erectness. Snape growled loudly, thrilling Lupin's inner wolf, and abruptly pushed Lupin down onto his back. Lupin tilted his head back and whined as he felt teeth gently close on the skin of his throat a moment later; unlike Severus, he found joy in submission--so long as it was to his beloved mate, of course. Snape reached for the jar again, and this time Lupin didn't stop him. 

He moaned loudly as he felt slick fingers sliding inside him, probing and stretching. "Please," Lupin gasped, and for once, it seemed that Severus was disinclined to make him beg. The fingers slipped out of him, and then he felt Severus pushing into him. He moaned again, lifting his hips and wrapping his legs around Severus's waist, pulling him in deeper. Their bodies rocked together slowly; Severus seemed to pick up on Lupin's tender mood without any need for words between them. His black eyes remained locked on Lupin's, and were filled with such love and intensity that Lupin's own eyes filled with tears. "Severus," Lupin whispered.

"Remy," Snape whispered back, and Lupin's heart filled with joy at the love and trust implicit in his use of Lupin's childhood nickname. "Remy, you're so beautiful."

"So are you, Severus," Lupin said with absolute sincerity. He remembered how, as a teenager, Severus had reacted angrily and defensively to those very same words, not believing that anyone could possibly find him beautiful. This time, Severus just smiled, with that look of awe and wonder in his eyes. He might find it hard to believe, and he might consider it a miracle, but at least he finally did believe that Lupin loved him and thought him beautiful.

Their bodies continued to move together, their desire slowly and steadily building, like a wave gradually growing from a mere ripple to a great wall of water as it moved towards the shore. With each thrust, Severus struck a little harder, a little deeper inside Lupin, sending ever-increasing surges of pleasure through his body until it was too much to bear...the wave crested, peaked, and crashed upon the shore...

Lupin felt his mate come with him, and the wolf howled with joy. Afterwards, Snape grinned as he gently brushed sweat-soaked strands of hair back from Lupin's face. "I can't believe how sexy it is to hear you howl," he said.

Lupin snuggled closer to his mate, laying his head on Snape's chest and nuzzling him affectionately. "When I was a boy, I never dreamed that there might be advantages to being a werewolf," he chuckled. "I never dreamed that I would actually be happy to be a werewolf one day."

Snape placed one hand under Lupin's chin and tipped his face up so that their eyes met. "Never wish to be other than what you are, Remus," he said, his expression suddenly turning serious. "Never doubt that I love you as you are, both man and wolf."

Lupin's eyes filled with tears again; his cranky, snarky Slytherin lover never ceased to touch and amaze him with statements like these, which seemed to appear out of the blue without any warning. He spoke with difficulty, as his throat seemed to constrict with emotion. "Once I wished to change what I am, but no longer. Even if a cure for lycanthropy became available, I don't think I would take it. The wolf is a part of me now, and I would not be whole if it were gone."

"Good," Snape said, kissing him. "Because I would miss the wolf." And then that snarky, sarcastic tone that Lupin had grown to love was back. "Even if you do shed fur and drool on my good robes."

Lupin laughed. "And I would miss being scratched behind the ears!"

They lay in each other's arms silently for a few minutes, then Snape asked, "Would you like to move to the bedroom?"

Lupin felt drowsy and content in his lover's embrace, and the heat from the fire warming his bare skin felt good. "Not really," he said. He didn't really feel like moving at the moment, and the wolf didn't mind sleeping on the floor. In fact, it found the rug on the hearth quite comfortable.

"I'm going to regret this in the morning," Snape sighed, but remained on the floor, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around Lupin, who growled happily.

*** 

Lukas returned to Hogwarts the day after the full moon, and was surprised but gratified when his students enthusiastically welcomed him back. The boys in particular seemed happy, almost relieved to see him, and he wondered exactly what Kyra had been doing in his absence. When he asked her about it later, she just grinned and winked at him. Even more surprising, Lukas realized that he was happy to be back; despite his initial reservations, he had come to like his job, and had grown fond of his students. They were sometimes unruly and self-centered, but that was true of all cubs, wolf or human, and they were mostly goodhearted.

So he was feeling uncharacteristically cheerful as he chatted with Lupin and the other teachers one evening at dinner, when suddenly a great horned owl flew into the hall. It dropped a letter in front of Lukas, then landed on the table in front of Lupin and Snape, dropping a second envelope into Snape's hand.

"I'm really beginning to hate the sight of that bird," Snape groaned as he opened the letter.

"Shh, Severus," Lupin scolded. "You'll hurt his feelings."

Socrates didn't look the least bit hurt, though. In fact, he looked positively content as Lupin petted him and fed him scraps of meat from his plate. The Snape family owl had learned that if he lingered after delivering a letter, Lupin would always reward him with a caress and a tidbit--in spite of Selima's complaints that he was "spoiling that bird".

"It's nothing personal, Lupin," Snape grumbled. "It's just that whenever Socrates shows up, it's usually because he's bearing a summons from my mother. We have been invited to tea at Snape Manor this weekend. And by the way, despite the way it's worded, that's an order, not a request."

"I've been invited to tea, too," Lukas said, frowning at his own letter.

"Really?" Snape asked, looking startled.

"Really," Lukas replied. "She doesn't actually come right out and say so, but I believe that Lady Selima wants to discuss the matter of the Diggory inheritance with me." He sighed heavily, then said in a sarcastic voice, "A tea party at a pureblood mansion is not exactly my idea of a good time."

"It's not really a party," Lupin said gently, still petting Socrates. "It'll just be you, me, Severus, and the boys. There won't be anyone there who will sneer at you."

"If I have to go, then you're coming as well, Bleddri," Snape said in the no-nonsense tone of voice that he used with his students.

Lukas bristled at being spoken to in that manner. "Why do I have to come?" he asked in a surly voice. "Lady Selima isn't MY mother."

"No, but however I might wish it were otherwise, she is MY mother, and she'll never let me hear the end of it if I show up there without you," Snape replied, a sour look on his face. "She's a worse nag than Lupin."

Lupin laughed, and Lukas couldn't help but smile a little. He almost felt sorry for the Potions Master, being bullied by both his lover and his mother. 

"You said you weren't going to hide from the past anymore, Lukas," Lupin reminded him. "If you're going to re-enter pureblood society, consider this a good first step. You'll be among friends, and even if Lady Selima can be overbearing at times--"

"Only 'at times'?" Snape muttered under his breath.

"--she is your ally," Lupin finished.

"Very well," Lukas reluctantly conceded. "I suppose you're right."

*** 

But Lupin was wrong in assuming that they would be the only guests at Snape Manor: it turned out that there was one outsider there, except that she wasn't really a stranger.

"Morrigan!" Snape exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Morrigan smiled at them in her cool, professional manner. "Hello, Severus. I am here at your mother's request."

Lukas gave her a suspicious look, and Selima smiled and said pleasantly, "Cyril, this is Morrigan De Lacy. She is a lawyer at one of the most prestigious firms in the wizarding world. Ms. De Lacy, this is--"

"Lukas Bleddri," Lukas said before Selima could introduce him as Cyril Diggory. "And why have you invited a lawyer to tea, Lady Selima?" he asked in a cold voice.

"To help you get your inheritance back, of course," Selima replied.

As Lukas's face turned red with anger, Morrigan smoothly added, "Lady Selima has paid me an initial retainer to discuss the matter of your inheritance with you. I am here only to go over your legal options with you. It will of course be your decision as to whether or not you wish to pursue them, and also your decision as to whether or not you wish to keep me on as your lawyer."

"But you might have some difficulty finding another lawyer willing to take on your case," Selima interjected. "Most of them are purebloods, and might balk at helping a werewolf claim a pureblood estate."

Lukas glared at her and said, "This is none of your concern. Stop meddling in my life."

"It is my concern, Cyril," Selima said calmly. "Your mother would want you to be provided for--"

"I appreciate your loyalty to my mother, Lady Selima," Lukas said through gritted teeth, "but I am an adult now, and I can take care of myself."

"You told us yourself that you left the pureblood world at the age of fifteen, Cyril," Selima retorted. "Yes, you can look after yourself, but do you know how to go about hiring a lawyer? Do you know how to find one who is both skilled and trustworthy? I am merely saving you time by introducing you to Ms. De Lacy."

"She's a very good lawyer, Lukas," Lupin murmured. "She's the one I told you about, who had the Rosier and Nott estates restored to Dylan and Theo."

"Surely it couldn't hurt just to listen to what she has to say, Master Bleddri," Dylan ventured timidly. "You could always say 'no' afterwards."

"Somehow I doubt it will be that simple," Lukas sighed, seeing the look of implacable stubbornness that lay beneath the outward veneer of civility on Selima's face. But he sat down and accepted a cup of tea from Vorcher, who had emerged to serve the guests.

"A very interesting case," Morrigan said, her eyes lighting up with an eager little gleam. "Technically, you have the law on your side, Master Bleddri. Your father was the eldest son of the Diggory clan, so by the laws of the wizarding world, the title should go to you. Of course, in the past your lycanthropy would have caused you to be passed over as heir, but the equal rights bill declares that werewolves are equal to humans under the law. But no one has really tried to challenge it yet; there was some grumbling when you were hired to teach at Hogwarts, but no one had the nerve to oppose Albus Dumbledore when he had just helped save the world from Voldemort. This will be the first true test of whether the equal rights bill can be upheld, or if it is nothing more than high-minded words on a piece of paper. You can be sure that not just the Diggorys, but most of the pureblood community, will fight you tooth and nail on this."

"I know," Lukas said.

"One one hand," Morrigan continued, "you are the rightful heir. On the other, you are a werewolf, and have been absent from the pureblood world for over two decades. Amos Diggory is a well-respected Ministry official, and has outwardly been a good caretaker of the Diggory estate. And his son's death at the hands of Voldemort has earned him a great deal of sympathy among his peers." Morrigan paused to take a sip of tea. "It would help if we could discredit him somehow. Have you any proof that he was involved in your father's accident or the subsequent plot to fake your death?"

"No," Lukas said, shaking his head. "As I already told Lady Selima, it would be my word against his. And we all know how much a werewolf's word counts with the pureblood elite..."

"But Mr. Diggory admitted right in front of everyone that he helped fake Master Bleddri's death!" Theodore said excitedly. "We all heard him! There must have been at least a dozen witnesses!"

"The Snape family will be regarded as biased, considering Severus's friendship with Master Bleddri, and Lady Selima's friendship with his parents," Morrigan said. "Were there any other witnesses who could be called upon to testify?"

Snape thought about it. "My other Slytherin players were there: Baddock, Doherty, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode. And the teachers: Dumbledore, Hooch, Sprout, Satoshi, Hagrid, Trelawney...though I doubt that the latter two would make very impressive witnesses..."

"There were also the Gryffindor students," Lupin reminded him. "Ron and Ginny Weasley, Harry--"

"Yes," Morrigan said with great satisfaction. "No one will doubt the word of the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World. Do you think he will agree to testify?"

"Yes," Lupin replied in a firm voice. "Harry will do what is right. He'll tell the truth about what he heard."

"Yes, he's quite truthful," Snape muttered sarcastically. "So long as he's not trying to cover up some mischief he's getting into, like sneaking around the school after hours--"

Lupin kicked him in the shin. "Knock it off, Severus," he scolded. "You know Harry wouldn't lie about something this important."

Snape scowled and bent down to rub at his leg. "Yes, yes," he grumbled, "I am sure that Potter will consider it his duty to testify on Bleddri's behalf--Gryffindor nobility and all that."

"Excellent," Morrigan said with a satisfied smile. "We have Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore on our side, and a number of objective witnesses in addition to Remus and the Snapes. Now, Amos will try to prove that you are not fit to hold the title. Is there anything from your past that I should know about, that might be used against you?"

Lukas scowled at her. "I am a werewolf, Ms. De Lacy," he said in a bitter voice. "For many years, it was almost impossible for us to find legitimate work. So if you are asking, was I involved in anything illegal, the answer is: of course I was. At times I was a thief. At others, I sold contraband items on the black market."

"Were you ever caught and convicted?" Morrigan asked.

Lukas shook his head. "No, but I am sure Amos will find a way to dig up my unsavory past."

"You are a hero of the war," Morrigan said dismissively. "If a repentant Death Eater can be forgiven his or her crimes--excuse me, Severus--then a little thievery and smuggling are nothing in comparison. Have you ever committed any more serious crimes? Have you ever killed anyone? Outside of the final battle, of course." Lukas hesitated. "You are my client, Master Bleddri, and I must keep whatever information you give me confidential; you need not worry on that account."

"You can trust her," Snape said. Lukas's eyes flickered over to Selima and the boys. "And the rest of us."

"I'm not an idiot, Cyril," Selima told him. "With the kind of life you've led, it would be a miracle if you hadn't killed someone. I will not betray my best friend's son."

"I have killed," Lukas said quietly, "but only in self-defense, or to protect one of my pack members. They were not people of importance in the pureblood world, and I don't think any of them can be traced back to me."

"Did you kill them as a man or a wolf?" Morrigan asked calmly.

"A man," Lukas snarled, his temper rising at the lawyer's intrusive questions.

"Have you ever bitten and infected anyone?" Morrigan continued, looking unperturbed.

"No!"

"Would you be willing to swear it under Truth Potion?"

"If I must," Lukas growled. "Although considering the current line of questioning, I am less and less inclined to take this case to court."

"I am sorry," Morrigan said sympathetically, "but these are the kinds of questions that Amos's lawyer will ask."

"I know," Lukas sighed.

"You can't just give up, Cyril!" Selima insisted. "If you are strong enough to take on the Death Eaters, you are strong enough to stand up to Amos in court!"

"It's my decision, not yours!" Lukas snapped.

"Perhaps we can reach an out-of-court settlement," Morrigan said, "although it will be difficult, given your uncle's hostility towards you. But Lady Selima says that your aunt is willing to support your claim."

"Yes, but Gwendolyn isn't the head of the Diggory family," Lukas replied. "And I'm hesitant to take the inheritance from her son, Tristan. Whatever his uncle may have done, he is only a child and has done nothing to wrong me."

"Tell me, Master Bleddri," Morrigan said thoughtfully, "do you have a wife?"

"No," Lukas said, looking startled by the question.

"Or a lover?" Morrigan persisted.

Lukas's face turned a little red. "And why is this any of your business?"

"I want to know if you have any children, or intend to in the future," Morrigan replied. 

"Of course not!" Lukas snapped. "Do you think, after everything I've been through, that I would risk inflicting my curse on a child?"

"Then that might solve our problem," Morrigan said with a smile. "Even if you become head of the Diggory family, you will need an heir. And since you have no children of your own, nor plan to, we could make the offer to the Diggory family that if they will let you assume the title, you will appoint Tristan as your heir. It would spare Amos embarrassment in court and avoid a nasty family feud with his sister, and the estate would eventually return to his chosen heir in time. And it might pacify the pureblood elite, since your werewolf blood will not actually be mingling with theirs. And you need not feel that you are stealing the title from your young cousin."

Snape blinked in surprise. "Hmm...that's actually a very good solution. A fair compromise...but Amos Diggory is a stubborn man. I'm not sure he'll take the offer, even though he should."

"We can at least make the offer," Morrigan said. "If he won't take it, we can still fight him in court. What do you think, Master Bleddri?"

"I'll...have to think it over," Lukas said slowly, overwhelmed by the realization that there was actually a good chance that he could win back the inheritance he thought he had given up forever. He had thought that he didn't want it, but felt a small spark of anticipation, and a sudden rush of nostalgia and longing. To take up the Diggory name and title again...it would bring him closer to the memory of his parents. Yet at the same time, the thought of it terrified him. "I promised Tristan that I would talk it over with him and his parents before I made a final decision."

"Very well," Morrigan said, handing him a business card. "You can reach me at this address when you have made up your mind. Now, you also have a claim to the Gravenor estate--do wish to pursue that as well? You are the grandson of the late Gravenor Lord, and in direct line to inherit the title. However, the current Lord, your cousin, who is the son of the late Lord's younger brother, will likely argue that your mother married out of the Gravenor family, and that the title should bypass her and go to the next closest male relative--"

"No," Lukas interrupted. "Fighting for one estate will be hard enough--if I decide to do it, that is. I don't think I have the energy to fight for two. I was never heir to the Gravenor estate, and I have unpleasant memories of my time there, when my mother and I were exiled to that little hovel where she eventually died. I never want to see it again."

Morrigan nodded. "Well, to be honest, the estate is not worth much these days. The Gravenor fortune declined dramatically after Anwir was exposed as a Death Eater. Still, the lands are worth something...but it's your decision." She rose to her feet. "Thank you for the tea, Lady Selima. Please contact me with your decision, Master Bleddri."

"Wait," Lukas said. "You're a pureblood too, aren't you? Why are you helping me? Does the thought of a werewolf becoming head of a pureblood family not bother you in the slightest?"

Morrigan smiled, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "No, not really," she said cheerfully. "The purebloods have become old and stogy, and need to be shaken up a bit. Besides, this case will likely be one of the most challenging of my career--and I do love a challenge. If I can pull it off, if I can actually win back your title and get a werewolf appointed head of the Diggory family, my colleagues will despise me--but they'll respect and envy me as well. I'll be able to pick and choose my clients, and will likely be made full partner in my firm, and no one will ever doubt my abilities again just because I am female. And I'll be able to double my fee." 

She looked as satisfied and smug as a cat with a bowl of cream, and Snape said in an amused voice, "You haven't won the case yet, Morrigan."

"Oh, but I will, Severus," she told him confidently.

Lukas was actually relieved to see that the lawyer had ulterior motives. Altruism made him nervous, and she would fight harder if there was something in it for her. But there was one problem... "I don't know how much your normal fee is, Ms. De Lacy, and while my salary at Hogwarts is generous, I have only recently been employed..."

"Oh, you needn't worry about that," Morrigan assured him nonchalantly. "Lady Selima has offered to pay my fee." 

"If that's all right with Lord Snape, of course," Selima added, with just a touch of sarcasm. Too dumbfounded to speak, Snape just nodded.

"I don't need anyone's charity--" Lukas snarled defensively.

Selima just gave him a cool look. "If it offends your pride, you may pay me back after you win back your estate, Cyril."

"Stop calling me 'Cyril'!"

"You had better get used to it if you intend to fight for the title," Selima told him.

Lukas sighed, and Morrigan smiled and said, "Well then, I'll be on my way. It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Bleddri." She nodded politely at the rest of them and left.

Selima looked Lukas over with a critical eye. "You can't show up in court like that, you know," she told him, frowning at his scuffed leather trenchcoat and the faded, shabby shirt and trousers he wore beneath it. "We'll have to get you some decent clothes--"

"First of all," Lukas snarled, baring his teeth at her, "I haven't decided that I want to fight for the title. And even if I do, it might not go to court if your friend Ms. De Lacy can work out a compromise."

"--and work on your manners," Selima continued without changing her tone of voice. She calmly lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of tea.

Lukas growled deep in his throat, until he realized that he was only proving her point. He started to slouch in his seat, then forced himself to sit up straight and fixed a look of cold arrogance on his face, attempting to look like a "proper" pureblood, if only to prove to Selima that he could if he wanted to.

"That's better," Selima said approvingly, and Lukas fought back another growl. His fingers tightened around the delicate porcelain tea cup in his hands, and he forced them to relax so that he didn't break it.

Lupin must have noticed, because he quickly changed the subject to something more innocuous, and Selima listened with a look of mild interest as Lupin explained his idea to hold a Career Fair. "So do you think perhaps your cousin Ali might be willing to help us?"

"He might," Selima replied. "Certainly he's the only one in my family who would be willing to do a favor for a werewolf." Her expression turned a little sour. "He'd probably think it a great lark. And he could always use an adventurous young apprentice willing to travel to foreign countries. My brother's son was working for him, but Ali said that the boy was flighty and undependable, and sent him back home." There was a certain spiteful satisfaction in her voice.

"Er...so you'll ask him?" Lupin said.

"No, I'll give you his address, and you can ask him yourself," Selima said. "Considering your friendship with Arthur Weasley, I'm sure he'll be delighted to help you, but don't be surprised if he asks you to arrange an audience with the Minister of Magic in return."

Lupin sighed. "Arthur won't like that, but I think he'll do it if I ask him to."

Selima smiled a little. "Don't tell Ali I said so, but he'd probably still come to your Career Fair even if the Minister refused to see him. He's always been a bit of a rebel, and he enjoys stirring things up and annoying the clan elders." Her voice took on a sarcastic bite, but there was still a hint of ironic amusement in her eyes. "He finds your relationship with Severus wonderfully scandalous. However, it goes against a merchant's instincts to do a favor for someone without getting something in return."

Lupin grinned. "Thank you for the advice, Lady Selima. But he will be getting something in return: access to the children of the pureblood elite, who will go home and tell their parents how wonderful it would be to have a flying carpet. And even if their parents do not heed their words, in a few years some of them will be working at the Ministry themselves, and might well work to lift the ban on flying carpets."

Selima gave him a look of grudging respect. "You would have made a good merchant, Professor Lupin."

"That's high praise coming from you, I'm sure," Lupin laughed, and Snape gave his mother and lover a bemused look. Lukas was a little surprised himself to see how well Lupin and Lady Selima got along. Although she treated him in a condescending manner, it did not seem entirely genuine--not unlike the way Snape constantly sniped at Lupin despite the fact that there was no need for it, since everyone in the school knew that they were lovers. 

Lady Selima's insults did not have the same affection behind them as Snape's, of course, but there was an odd sense of...well...tolerance, Lukas supposed. He wondered if her acceptance of Lupin had made it easier for her to support his own claim to the Diggory title despite his lycanthropy, or if it was the other way around--perhaps the fact that her dearest friend's son had turned out to be a werewolf had made her regard her son's lover with a little more sympathy. Lukas repressed a sigh and drank his tea, wishing that it were something stronger.

They talked only of inconsequential matters for the rest of the afternoon, such as the Career Fair and how the boys had done on their mid-terms. Dylan, of course, had gotten perfect or near-perfect scores on all of his, and Theodore had also done well, if not as spectacularly as his foster brother. In particular, his grades in Herbology, which had only been fair up until now, had increased dramatically.

"Draco was a little put out that Theo got a higher grade than him," Dylan snickered. 

Theodore smiled warmly at Lupin. "I was never much good at Herbology before, but I think that all the time we spent working in your garden during the summer really helped, Remus."

"I'm glad, Theo," Lupin said, giving his cub a tender smile. "I'm very proud of you."

Theodore beamed happily at him, and Selima frowned a little, but said nothing. Probably she disapproved of learning that her grandson had spent his summer gardening; the pureblood elite tended to disdain anything that smacked of physical labor. 

"A proficiency in Herbology will stand him in good stead, Mother," Snape said a little reproachfully, "and complement his Potions studies."

"I never said otherwise, Severus," Selima responded in a cool voice. Theodore stared at the two of them uneasily, then looked relieved when Selima said, "I am pleased that you did well on your exams, Theodore."

Snape relaxed and Theodore said politely, "Thank you, Grandmother."

Lupin shifted the topic of conversation again, to Quidditch, although the fateful Gryffindor-Slytherin match was something that Lukas would rather forget.

"I was never much of a Quidditch fan," Selima said, "but I must admit, that match was very exciting."

"You can say that again!" Dylan said with a rueful smile.

"Even before your little...mishap," Selima clarified. "You both played well." Theodore and Dylan grinned proudly at each other. "It's a pity Gryffindor won."

"They wouldn't have won if they hadn't cheated!" Theodore said indignantly. 

"Yes," Selima said almost admiringly. "Who would have thought they had it in them?"

The boys looked startled, then laughed. "Well, maybe we'd have done the same thing if we were in their shoes," Theodore conceded. "Before the war ended, anyway."

"There's no way the Gryffindors would have risked losing the game to help me when the war was still going on," Dylan agreed. "For that matter, there's no way Draco would have given up chasing the Snitch to save me!"

"I think you're wrong, Dylan," Lupin objected. "I think Harry and Ginny, at least, would not have acted any differently. Although I admit I'm not so sure about the others."

"That reminds me," Snape said, "we still need to buy Dylan a new broom. Perhaps we can stop by Diagon Alley before returning to the school today."

"Really?" Dylan asked eagerly. Although he had been upset about the loss of his Cleansweep, he seemed excited about the prospect of getting a new broom.

Lupin and Snape smiled indulgently at him. "Of course, Mr. Rosier," Snape replied. "You cannot play without a broom, and you can't miss too many more practice sessions if Slytherin is to win their next match. I still intend to win my bet with Professor McGonagall, that Slytherin will win the Quidditch Cup this year."

"Yes, sir!" Dylan said, grinning widely. Lupin smiled and ruffled the boy's hair fondly, and Snape patted him on the shoulder in a brusque yet affectionate manner. Lukas felt a sudden wistful pang at the thought that he would never have any cubs of his own, although he had never wanted children before. All this talk of family, and the memories of his parents, had put him in a pensive mood, he supposed. He tried to shake off his melancholy, telling himself firmly that he had his students and his pack, and that was more than enough for him. 

Dylan was clearly eager to go broom-shopping, and Lukas welcomed the chance to escape Lady Selima's presence. He set down his cup and rose to his feet, saying, "Thank you for the tea, Lady Selima." He allowed a hint of sarcasm to creep into his voice as he said, "Our discussion today has been most...interesting...but I need to return to Hogwarts now. I have some lesson plans to work on, and I need to contact Gwendolyn."

"By all means, Cyril," Selima said. "The sooner you can resolve the matter of your inheritance, the better."

One corner of Lukas's mouth quirked up in a wry, lopsided smile. Everyone else called him by his chosen name, even Gwendolyn, but it was clear that Lady Selima was never going to address him as anything other than "Cyril". He couldn't help but respect her perseverance even as it annoyed the hell out of him at the same time. "Good day, then," he said, giving her an ironic little bow. "I'll see you back at school, Remus, Severus." Lukas gave Dylan a more sincere smile; he had grown fond of the boy even if he was a little too clever for his own good at times. Not many humans would have dared to touch a werewolf during the full moon, Wolfsbane Potion notwithstanding. "Good luck with your broom-hunting, Mr. Rosier."

"Thank you, Master Bleddri," Dylan replied. Then he added with an impish smile, "Will you bet on Slytherin in our next match? I don't intend to let anything stop us from winning next time--not even a hexed broom!"

Lukas smiled again. From what the other teachers had told him, Dylan had only a fraction of his father's mischief; Evan Rosier must have been a real hellion! "Perhaps, Mr. Rosier, although I'm not normally a gambling man." But then again, throwing his lot in with Dumbledore to oppose the Death Eaters had been biggest gamble of his life; what were a few Galleons compared to that? He walked over to the fireplace, tossed a handful of Floo Powder into it, and said, "Hogwarts School of Magic!" And for once, returning to the school felt like coming home.

*** 

"We should be going, too, if we plan to go shopping today," Lupin said. "We don't want to be late for supper."

"Why don't you take the boys and go on ahead, Lupin?" Snape told him. "I'll meet you at Quality Quidditch Supplies in a few minutes."

The boys looked puzzled, and Lupin gave him a startled look, then smiled. "Of course, Severus. We can get started looking at broomsticks while we're waiting. Good day, Lady Selima. Thank you for the tea." The boys added their thanks, still looking puzzled, then followed Lupin out through the fireplace.

"Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me in private, Severus?" Selima asked coolly.

Snape frowned at her. "You do realize that when word gets out that you're helping Bleddri, the Slytherin elite will regard you as a traitor."

Selima calmly took a sip of tea. "I didn't think that the opinions of the Slytherin elite mattered to you, Severus."

"They don't matter to me," Snape said sharply, "but up until a couple of weeks ago, they seemed to matter very much to you! You were so concerned about the Snape family's reputation--aren't you worried that you'll ruin your grandson's chances to rise in society?"

"We have our wealth," Selima replied, her face still cool and impassive, "and we have our standing. I'm not worried about that. Despite your scandalous relationship with the werewolf, you are a hero of the war, and you have a number of powerful friends: Dumbledore, the Minister of Magic, the Donners, Lady Blackmore, not to mention the Boy Who Lived..."

"Potter is not my friend!" Snape snapped. "But that's beside the point! I want to know what's so special about Bleddri, that you'd go so far out on a limb for him!"

His mother looked up and met his eyes, but she was as good as he was at disguising her emotions, and he could read nothing in her face. "Cyril's mother was my closest friend," she said quietly. "We were friends ever since we started Hogwarts together."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "Father would be appalled, Mother, to hear such an admission of sentimentality!"

"Yes, well, your father isn't around anymore, now is he?" Selima retorted. Some emotion that Snape could not read flickered in her black eyes. "Why don't you say what you really mean, Severus?"

"You castigated me for taking Lupin as my lover," Snape said, fighting to keep his voice even. "You told me in no uncertain terms that I was disgracing the family name by publicly associating with a beast. And yet--" His voice sharpened in spite of himself. "--you are spending the Snape wealth, risking the reputation of the family name, to make another beast head of the Diggory family!"

"I thought he was your friend, Severus," Selima said.

"He's more Lupin's friend, but that's not the point!"

"Then what is the point, Severus?"

"Why are you helping a werewolf who is a complete stranger to you, when you didn't lift a finger to help your own son sixteen years ago?!" Snape shouted, finally losing control enough to say what was really bothering him. He had been almost amused at first, by his mother's efforts to meddle with the Diggory family, but a niggling, barely perceptible feeling of discontent had been gradually festering into full-blown resentment. He could hear the jealousy in his voice, and immediately fell silent, breathing heavily as he tried to regain control of himself.

Something flickered in his mother's eyes again--guilt? It was hard to tell; Snape was chagrined to admit that his mother's control was better than his own. "It was not my decision to disown you, Severus," Selima said quietly. "It was your father's."

"You could have stopped him," Snape hissed.

Selima shook her head. "I tried, Severus, but you should know better than anyone how stubborn your father could be. I told him not to be so hasty, to at least wait until after the trial; I told him that we should bribe the necessary Ministry officials to prevent there from being a trial in the first place, but he refused to listen. He was so angry, Severus, not just because you were a Death Eater and had tarnished the family name, but because you had defied him."

Snape knew that she was right, but he was not in the mood to be reasonable at the moment. "So you just went along with it," he said bitterly.

"I had no choice, Severus. He was my Lord and husband."

"What if it had gone to trial?" Snape demanded. "Would you have let them send me to Azkaban? Even Ariane's family stood by her when she was arrested. They did so only grudgingly, to be sure, and they made her and Dylan's lives miserable afterwards, but at least they did not let her be sent to prison." Selima averted her gaze, which was answer enough for Snape; his father would have let the Ministry throw him in Azkaban, and his mother would have stood by obediently like a good little pureblood wife. Snape had known this all along, and he wasn't sure why it should hurt so much now, so many years after the fact. It wasn't as if he hadn't known that his parents were heartless bastards. And hadn't he told Lupin that he had been relieved when his father had disowned him, that he had welcomed the chance to escape his family? 

"But you were not sent to Azkaban," Selima finally said, looking up to meet his gaze again. "And believe it or not, I did try to help you, Severus. After you were not convicted, I persuaded your father to accept you back into the family, although of course he was too proud to openly reverse his decision. But I got him to agree to reinstate you as heir if you would come home and ask his forgiveness. But you, of course, were too proud to do so." She gave Snape a defiant glare. "Your father is not the only stubborn one in the family."

Snape glared right back at her. "You still haven't answered my question, Mother. Why go so far to help Bleddri, who is not even your own flesh and blood?" He bit his lip and flushed a little at the slight hint of a whine that had crept into his voice without his intending it.

"Love and guilt, Severus," Selima said wearily. "I loved Anya--" 

The shock Snape felt must have shown on his face, because Selima almost--though not quite--smiled. Then he wondered just what exactly she meant by the word "love"; as he had once told Lupin, sexual preference had little bearing on a pureblood marriage, but that was not something that he really wanted to contemplate, at least regarding his mother...

"Not _that_ kind of love," Selima said dryly, apparently guessing the direction his thoughts were taking. "But Anya was a true friend who didn't care about pureblood politics, who wasn't just being nice to me because my family might be able to do her a favor in the future. And..." She hesitated, then lowered her voice and averted her gaze; their conversation seemed to be making her uncomfortable, and in fact, it was making him a little uncomfortable as well. They had never before discussed anything so personal, and Snape was surprised to find that she seemed to be answering him honestly despite her discomfort. 

"And knowing now what befell Anya and her son," Selima continued softly, "I feel guilty that I did not do more to help them. Cynric's death was a little suspicious, but I did not investigate further because your father did not want to make waves. He was involved in some delicate political maneuvering at the time, and offending a prominent family such as the Diggorys were then--though they are less so now--might have ruined his plans. And there was no evidence that Cynric's death was anything but an accident. Oh, people gossiped, as they always do, but no one really believed that a mild-mannered Hufflepuff family could have committed cold-blooded murder." 

Selima sighed. "But I should have tried harder to stay in touch with Anya. She had a nervous breakdown after Cynric died, and it did not seem strange that she should go into seclusion. I wrote to her, but she said she wished to be left alone. I let her be, thinking that she would heal with time, and I was busy with my own life--Severin's career and your education--and before I knew it, three years had passed, and Anya was dead." She looked up, and Snape could see that her black eyes were filled with guilt. "But perhaps things would have turned out differently if I had gone to the Gravenor estate and demanded to see her."

Snape was very familiar with that kind of guilt, of course. Despite his resentment, he felt a twinge of sympathy for his mother. "And perhaps not," he said. "The Gravenors probably would have turned you away, saying that she was too ill to see anyone. And perhaps they would have arranged an accident to befall Anya and Lukas soon afterwards."

"Perhaps," Selima said, "but that does not change the fact that I made no effort to help my dearest friend. That is why I am trying so hard to help Cyril now--not so much for his sake, but for hers."

Loyalty to a friend was an admirable motive, but it still hurt that his mother had gone to such lengths to help someone else's son and not her own. This was ridiculous; he was an adult, a jaded former Death Eater, no longer a child. He had told Lupin many times that he did not care what his parents thought of him, but Lupin had known all along that he was lying, even if he had not realized it himself up until now. Snape felt rather relieved that Lupin was not here to say, "I told you so"--in the gentlest, kindest way possible, of course. It was un-Gryffindorish to gloat.

Again, his mother seemed to guess at least some of what he was thinking; Snape wondered sourly if Lady Selima might be a Legilimens herself. She met his eyes unflinchingly; her gaze was steady and solemn. "I know that I was not a very good mother to you, Severus," she said in a quiet but even voice. "At least, I was not the kind of mother that Anya was to Cyril." She hesitated, looking a little uncertain of herself, but she did not look away. "I did not know how to be," she finally said.

"Because Anya loved her husband and son," Snape said, a little bitterly, leaving unspoken the words that Selima had not. But he could not help but wonder what kind of parent he would have been to Dylan and Theodore without Lupin's example to follow. 

"I did not love your father," Selima said. "But I swore to honor and obey him, and I have never broken those vows. I did my best to be a good wife and mother; the two were, perhaps, not always compatible." Snape did not know how to reply to that, and remained silent. "But I did my best by you, Severus, even if you feel it was not enough. I educated you as befit a pureblood heir. I taught you what I thought you needed to know in order to survive and advance in society. I tried to keep the peace between you and your father, though obviously I failed miserably at that."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, his voice still bitter, "you were always most attentive to your duty."

"Yes, Severus," Selima retorted, a spark of anger flaring in her eyes, "I was. I did my duty to my family and my husband regardless of whether or not it conflicted with my own desires, and not once did anyone ever ask me what I wanted!"

Snape was a little taken aback by her response. "Do you regret it, then, Mother?" he asked, in a less hostile voice, genuinely curious to know the answer. "If you could do it over again, would you marry instead one of those young and handsome suitors you once mentioned?"

Selima's anger died down as quickly as it had erupted, and she leaned back in her chair, sighing wearily. "I don't know, Severus. What point is there in wondering 'what if' when the past cannot be changed? Most of those handsome young men never amounted to much, anyway, and they are no longer so young and handsome." She gave him a smile that held a great deal of irony and not much humor. "And besides, if I had not married your father, you would not exist."

Snape laughed harshly. "Then should I be grateful to you, Mother?"

"Why start now?" Selima said, still with that ironic twist to her lips. "Regardless of what your idealistic Gryffindor werewolf might wish for, I do not expect any maudlin declarations of gratitude or forgiveness, save in a bad novel, of which I suspect Lupin has read too many." Snape laughed again, a little more sincerely. In a more serious voice, Selima said, "You may hate me if you wish, Severus. So long as the Snape line continues, I will not complain."

_Do I hate her?_ Snape wondered, and the answer was both yes and no. He still resented her coldness to him as a child, and the way she had failed to protect him from his father, but on the other hand, he knew that Lupin was probably right when he said that Selima had only been behaving as her own family had taught her to. All the Bashirs, save for Ali, were a cold and unpleasant lot--not the type to spoil or indulge their children. 

A loving mother like Anya Diggory was probably more the exception than the rule in the Slytherin elite, at least among Selima's generation. And, as long as he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that Selima's marriage to Severin had probably not exactly been a picnic, either. He could feel a grudging admiration for Selima's loyalty to a husband she had not wanted to marry and had not loved. Still, Snape could not quite bring himself to forgive her.

Selima tilted her head to one side, giving him a thoughtful look. "You know, Severus, you are the Snape Lord now. You could forbid me to use the Snape funds to help Cyril. You could even cast me out of the manor if you wished." Her voice was not hostile, but cool, almost conversational, with just a hint of curiosity, as if she were trying to figure out why he hadn't already.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Mother, there's no need to be so melodramatic!" Snape snapped indignantly. As much as he hated his mother, the thought of using his new position as Lord against her had never crossed his mind. "Besides," he added gruffly, "do you honestly think that the werewolf would just let me throw you out on the street?"

The corners of Selima's mouth slowly curved upwards, as if against her will, into a genuine smile. "No, I don't," she agreed. "Professor Lupin suffers from the Gryffindor flaw of softheartedness."

"I don't understand, Mother," Snape said, feeling perplexed, amused, and irritated all at the same time, "why you and Lupin seem to be getting along so well these days. Have you developed a sudden inexplicable fondness for werewolves?"

"Hardly, Severus," Selima replied in a dry voice. "But you have, and so has my new grandson. I'm not a fool, Severus; I know that quarreling with Lupin will only turn Theodore against me, and I don't wish to lose another heir."

"And you aren't worried about antagonizing me?" Snape asked sardonically.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think, Severus?" Selima replied in the same tone of voice. Snape could not help but laugh, a sharp, hoarse sound that sounded almost like Bane's cawing. "If I can put up with Priscilla Parkinson's constant catty remarks, I can certainly put up with the werewolf." 

Snape laughed again. "Lupin is certainly much less annoying than Priscilla."

Selima pursed her lips sourly for a moment, looking as if she agreed with him but didn't want to admit it. "I don't like it, but I am willing to cooperate with Professor Lupin in order to ensure the Snape succession. As for Cyril--well, it was a bit shocking to find out that my friend's son was a werewolf, but I still wish to help him for her sake. And besides, I confess that I wouldn't mind seeing Amos suffer the humiliation not only of having the secret he worked so hard to conceal be revealed, but of having his position usurped by a werewolf."

If Amos Diggory were less obnoxious, Snape might have felt sorry for him. Selima Snape was a dangerous enemy to make; Snape had always hated his mother's endless lessons in etiquette as a child, but he had to admit that she was a master of the art of social manipulation. In the world of the pureblood elite, a single malicious rumor whispered into the right ear could prove more damaging than an Unforgivable Curse, and shatter one's reputation and career, which was why the Slytherins always worked so hard to ingratiate themselves with the right people. 

"You have my authorization," Snape said, "if you feel you need it, to spend as much as you please on your campaign to regain Bleddri's inheritance. It will please Lupin, since Bleddri is his friend, and I wouldn't mind seeing Amos get what's coming to him." Snape smirked; it was a nice little twist of irony: after Lupin's lycanthropy had been revealed (which, admittedly was Snape's fault), Amos had been one of the parents who had sent letters to the Headmaster demanding that the werewolf be fired. So it was only appropriate that he was in danger of losing the family estate and title to another werewolf.

Selima smiled back at him and said, "Thank you, Severus." She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do we have a truce, then?"

Snape hesitated himself, unsure of what he wanted. He was still not ready to forgive her, and more than three decades of hatred and resentment could not be erased in one afternoon. But the thought of continuing to carry on their long-standing feud was no longer appealing, either. And although bitter words had been exchanged, today was the first time Snape and his mother had ever had a real conversation as adults and equals, instead of Lady Snape merely lecturing or berating the recalcitrant Snape heir. It had been a novel experience, though awkward at times, and maybe...just maybe...he wouldn't mind repeating it in the future.

"What happened in the past cannot be undone, Mother," he finally said. "I'm not like the werewolf; I can't just forgive and forget."

"I understand, Severus," Selima said, sounding resigned and--was is it just his imagination?--possibly a little disappointed as well.

"I'm not finished," Snape said irritably; getting the words out wasn't easy, which was making him grumpy. "You are, as you pointed out, not the kind of mother Anya Diggory was, and quite frankly, I'm a little too old to want a mother fussing over me the way Narcissa does Draco, anyway. We can't change the past, but..." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps, for the future, we can start over with a clean slate." His mother looked stunned, and he added in a gruff voice, "As Lupin is constantly reminding me, we need to get along for Theodore's sake. I'm still not sure that it was a wise decision to bring him into this family, but what's done is done; he is the Snape heir. So...a truce, for my son's sake."

"For Theodore's sake," Selima echoed softly, still looking stunned.

"But this is a conditional truce," Snape warned, his voice turning steely. "Theodore has already endured one set of abusive and neglectful parents. I will not allow anyone to harm him again--not physically, magically, or even verbally. Not for the sake of pureblood pride and propriety, or even for the sake of his inheritance."

"Agreed," Selima said without hesitation, inclining her head slightly. It was unusual for his mother to give in to a demand so readily, but perhaps her merchant's instincts told her that there was no room for negotiation here. "On my word as a Snape."

That made Snape feel a little better. His mother might be a scheming, conniving social climber, in typical Slytherin fashion, but she also had a sense of honor--although a Gryffindor would probably find it confusing and convoluted--and always kept her word. Which was probably why she didn't give it very often. After an awkward silence, Snape cleared his throat and rose to his feet, saying, "Well, I'd better go meet Lupin and the boys before they wonder what happened to me."

"You can charge Dylan's broom to the Snape account," Selima said, then smiled wryly. "Well, I suppose you don't need my permission for that--Lord Snape."

"No, I don't," Snape said, but without any sting to his words. "But I'm sure that Dylan and Lupin will appreciate the thought."

"Oh, don't tell the werewolf that!" Selima protested, looking horrified. "It will only encourage his ridiculously idealistic and sappy notion that everyone has some good in them. Only a Gryffindor could be so trite."

"I'm not sure that it's really a Gryffindor notion," Snape mused, smiling a little. "Most Gryffindors believe in Good and Evil, with capital letters, usually casting the Slytherins in the latter role and themselves in the former. I think it might just be Lupin."

"An idealistic werewolf," Selima muttered, shaking her head. "What is the world coming to?" Then in a brisk voice, she said, "Well, you had best go on, Severus, before he comes looking for you."

Snape walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, but paused before going through. "By the way..."

"Yes, Severus?"

Without turning around, his back still facing towards his mother, Snape said, "What you said about not being like Anya Diggory...maybe that's not an entirely bad thing. She was too caught up in her own grief to protect her son. Bleddri said that she died of pneumonia, but in essence it was suicide, wasn't it? She gave up and left her son to fend for himself." 

"Don't judge her so harshly, Severus," Selima said, sounding both pleased and offended at the same time. "What would you do if something happened to Professor Lupin?"

Snape whirled around to face her, the very thought awakening a sense of panic and despair in him. His heart was pounding rapidly, and he had to take a few deep breaths to steady himself, reminding himself that Lupin was fine, and the question was merely hypothetical. "I would want to kill myself," he said harshly. "But I wouldn't, so long as Theodore and Dylan still needed me. They were both orphaned once; I wouldn't leave them alone again." 

There was something that looked very much like respect in his mother's black eyes. "Yes," Selima said softly, "you would not have survived living as a spy among the Death Eaters for so many years if you were weak. Strength and stubbornness are Snape traits. Over the years people have called us cold-hearted, ruthless, even evil--but never weak."

Snape grudgingly admitted to himself that his mother shared those traits, too, even if she was only a Snape by marriage, not blood. For the first time, he realized that it must have taken strength to go into a marriage with a stranger twice her age without, as Lupin put it, having her spirit broken. Many other pureblood women in unhappy marriages frittered their time away with gossip and alcohol and clandestine affairs, but Selima had managed to win her new husband's respect, and in a very short time, make herself an influential person in pureblood society in her own right. 

When the Snape family's fortunes fell, it must have taken strength--and a good deal of stubbornness--not to give up, as even Severin had. She had endured the sneering faces and malicious whispers of her peers, and continued working to restore her family's place in society. Even after sixteen years, even after the news that her son had taken up with a werewolf, she still had not given up, and finally succeeded in dragging the reluctant heir back home. Being the reluctant heir, Snape was not entirely happy about this, but he still had to admire her perseverance. And if his mother had not forced him to come home, Theodore would not be his son now, and would probably still be secretly envying Dylan and feeling second-best. He supposed he should be grateful to his mother, if only for that.

"Yes," Snape agreed, "all the Snapes are strong--and stubborn," stressing the word "all" slightly. He turned back to the fireplace and raised his hand.

"Oh, and Severus?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, Mother?" 

Selima hesitated, then said, "Never mind. Go on, Professor Lupin and the boys must be getting worried about you."

Snape snorted. "The boys, maybe. Lupin's probably overjoyed; he's no doubt envisioning some sort of heartwarming reconciliation scene."

"Then go, and disabuse him of that notion," Selima said, and Snape laughed. "Bring the boys back for tea again soon."

"Yes, Mother."

"And Christmas is coming up next month--you'll spend the holidays here, won't you?" Snape hesitated, and Selima added impatiently, "All four of you, of course."

"I'll have to talk it over with Lupin," Snape hedged. He supposed they would have to spend Christmas Day at Snape Manor, but he wasn't sure he wanted to spend the entire two weeks of vacation here. "Theodore will be busy studying for his N.E.W.T.s, and Dylan might want to spend some time with the Donners."

His mother wasn't going to let him off that easy. "Theodore can study here as well as anywhere else," Selima pointed out. "He can bring his books with him, and we have an excellent library." Snape began fidgeting nervously, and Selima said, "We can discuss it further the next time you come."

It was only a temporary reprieve, but Snape seized it nonetheless. Before his mother could change her mind, he threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace and said, "Diagon Alley, Quality Quidditch Supplies!"

*** 

Selima set aside her now-cold cup of tea, and motioned for Vorcher to clear away the dishes. She had intended to say that there were things she might do over differently, given the chance, but Severus was right; the past could not be undone, so there was no point in saying "I would do this-or-that differently" when it was impossible. Talk was cheap, as the saying went, especially when it could not be backed up by action, and there was no point in taking the chance of antagonizing her son and jeopardizing their fragile truce.

Severus was right when he said that Anya had failed to protect her son, although Selima could not bring herself to scorn her old friend for that, particularly when she herself had done the same thing, in a manner of speaking, without having the excuse of being devastated by a loved one's death. Had she been wrong to stand by when Severin had punished Severus with a Cruciatus Curse? She had not thought so at the time, but maybe she had been wrong. She had told herself that she could not disobey her husband, but perhaps if she had tried, she could have persuaded him, without making it seem like she was defying his will, that a less severe form of punishment would be more effective. It had not seemed so bad at the time; her own parents had punished serious offenses with hexes, although they had never gone so far as to use an Unforgivable Curse.

But now, the thought of someone using such a curse on Theodore filled her with a strange sense of anger, and she knew that even without the promise she had made to Severus, she would never let anyone--not even Severin, if he were still alive--hurt her grandson that way. She did not know exactly when she had stopped regarding Theodore as "the substitute heir" and started thinking of him as her real grandson. 

Perhaps it had started on the day he had shown interest in the Snape histories and finances, as Severus never had. It had strengthened during Severin's funeral, when Theodore had kept his composure throughout the very long and trying day, being properly polite to the guests while skillfully deflecting any insults. She remembered the way he had smiled at her almost shyly when she complimented him on it. She could not change the past, but she wanted to protect Theodore now, as she had failed to protect her son. She even, to a lesser extent, wanted to protect Dylan, recalling the sudden surge of fear she had felt when she saw him fall off his broomstick at the Quidditch match.

These unfamiliar emotions scared her a little; it had been such a long time since she had let herself truly feel anything. It was all the werewolf's fault...no, that was not really fair. It was not just Lupin, but a combination of things, including Severin's death and Cyril's return, which had awakened old memories she had long ago buried in the past. 

She pressed a hand to her forehead, and Vorcher asked in a concerned voice, "Is the Mistress all right?" 

"Yes, I'm fine," Selima said, rising to her feet. "It's nothing...merely a headache. I think I will go lie down for a little while."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher said, still looking worried.

"Oh, and Vorcher..."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"When you're done clearing up, go up to the attic and go through the Christmas decorations."

"Mistress?" a puzzled Vorcher said.

"We haven't used them for many years. See what is still in good condition and what needs to be replaced. And you should work on preparing a menu and making up a list of the groceries that will need to be ordered to feed three, possibly four guests for two weeks over the Christmas holidays. It's not really all that far away."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher replied, looking excited for a moment, and then a little doubtful. "Er...did Master Severus agree to come for Christmas?" 

Selima smiled confidently. "No, but he will."

"Er...yes, Mistress."

Selima went upstairs, looking more cheerful, and Vorcher shrugged and returned to work. It was not his place to worry about how the Mistress was going to force Master Severus to return home for Christmas. If she said it was so, then it was. Vorcher missed the days when the house was full of life, with many parties, and people coming and going. The house had been quiet and gloomy for many years, with only the Master and Mistress in it, and they had not bothered to put up a tree or decorations for Christmas since the Master had retired from the Ministry. Maybe now that Master Severus had returned to the family, there would be parties at Snape Manor once again, with all the important people in the wizarding world coming, as they had for the Master's funeral.

Vorcher hurriedly washed the dishes, then ran upstairs to the attic, making a list in his mind: a tree, which would have to bought fresh next month; ornaments--the Snapes had a collection of very old and expensive hand-blown glass ornaments; tinsel; candles...likely they would need to buy new tinsel and candles. And for Christmas dinner: a turkey, or perhaps roast beef? Definitely a plum pudding... Vorcher began humming Christmas carols under his breath as he bounded up the stairs.

*** 

Lukas met with the Ames family for tea one afternoon the following week, after classes were over. Gwendolyn looked delighted to see him, although her husband looked worried. "I had a very long talk with Selima Snape last weekend," Lukas said. "It seems that she is willing to support my claim to the Diggory estate--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she is adamant about it. She has offered to hire Morrigan De Lacy to represent me in court."

"Then it seems you have made up your mind," Robert Ames said, frowning. "You intend to challenge Amos for the title."

Lukas shook his head. "I have made up my mind not to hide my identity or deny my heritage any longer. That is not necessarily the same thing. I promised Tristan that I would discuss the matter with you and Gwendolyn first before making my decision, and I am keeping my promise."

"Then you want our permission?" Robert asked, a little belligerently.

His wife glared at him. "You know how I feel about this, Cyr--I mean, Lukas," Gwendolyn said. "You are the rightful heir; if you want our blessing, you have it."

"I have your blessing," Lukas said with a wry smile, "but not your husband's." As Gwendolyn opened her mouth to protest, he added, "I can't really blame him; he doesn't wish to see his son's inheritance taken away from him, but perhaps I can set his mind at ease about that." He told them about the compromise Morrigan had suggested, that he make Tristan his heir.

Robert sat there, eyes wide, too stunned to react, and Tristan smiled at him shyly. "That's very generous of you, Lukas," Gwendolyn said.

"No, it's not," Lukas said. "It's practical. My lycanthropy is inherited, and I have no wish to inflict my curse on a child. Since I will never have children, it therefore follows that I need an heir, and Tristan is next in line to inherit."

Robert looked less hostile, but still concerned. "But what about Amos and Helen?" he asked. "What will happen to them if you become Lord? Will you turn them out of their home?"

"Why should I care what happens to Amos?" Lukas asked bitterly.

"You may not care about him," Robert replied, "and perhaps deservedly so, since he has wronged you. But he has been good to me and Gwen and Tristan all these years. Whatever he has done, he is still family to us."

"That is true," Gwendolyn said softly. "He is still my brother, and I cannot help but love him no matter how angry I am at him. And his wife is a good person, Lukas. They were not yet married when Cynric died, and she knew nothing about how Amos had helped to fake your death. You have every right to be angry with Amos, but for Helen's sake, couldn't we work something out?"

"Are they living in the mansion?" Lukas asked.

"No," Gwendolyn said. "Amos closed it up after Mother and Father died; he said the upkeep was too expensive. They've been living in a modest home in Ottery St. Catchpole, near the Weasleys."

"And my father's house in London?"

Gwendolyn winced. "Father tore down the house and sold the land after Cynric died. I was very upset, but he said it held too many painful memories for him. I think there's an antique shop there now."

"More likely he wanted to get rid of any evidence of my lycanthropy," Lukas said bitterly. "Such as claw marks on the walls of the room where I was confined during the full moon. They tried to erase every trace of my existence." He saw Gwendolyn's face, tearful and guilty, although she herself had done nothing wrong, and he sighed a little. "Very well," he said, his anger diffusing, "if Amos will cede me the title and the main estate, he can keep the home in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Then you're going to do it!" Gwendolyn said, her expression brightening. "You're going to fight for the title!"

"You seem awfully happy for someone about to get caught in the middle of a family feud," Lukas said dryly. "What happened to your concern about your dear brother?"

"I love Amos," Gwendolyn said quietly, "but I loved you and Cynric and Anya as well. You have no idea how overjoyed, how grateful I am to know that you are still alive, when I had thought you were dead for over twenty years. Amos will be upset, yes, but he is in the wrong, and he knows it. I think secretly he is ashamed, or he wouldn't have hid the truth from me all these years. Cynric was the eldest son and heir, and the title rightfully belongs to you. I will support your claim, no matter how angry Amos gets."

"Even if it goes to court?" Lukas asked.

"Even so," Gwendolyn said. "But hopefully it won't come to that. I'll talk to Amos, try to reason with him. It's a fair and generous offer you've made, to name Tristan your heir and cede him the house."

"I doubt Amos will see it that way," Robert muttered under his breath, and Lukas knew he was probably right.

"Are the two of you all right with this?" Lukas asked Robert and Tristan.

Robert shrugged. "Well, Gwen is determined to support you no matter what I think," he said in a resigned tone, sounding an awful lot like Snape when Lupin was badgering him into doing something he didn't want to do, and Lukas had to repress a smile. "And I suppose she's right. I'm no lawyer, but it seems to me that the title should legally be yours."

"I guess I'm okay with it," Tristan said. "Though I don't like to see you and Uncle Amos fighting with each other."

Lukas heaved a sigh. He hated his uncle, and still wasn't completely convinced that Amos was innocent of involvement in Cynric's death. But Gwendolyn and Tristan cared for Amos, and Lukas didn't want to cause them any more pain than he already had. He wrestled with his anger and guilt, then finally made a very difficult decision: to leave the past in the past, and not to probe further into his father's death. "I will call a truce with Amos, if he will call a truce with me."

Gwendolyn's grateful smile, and the tears shining in her eyes, made that decision a little less painful. "Thank you, Cyril," she whispered, reaching out to lay her hand against his cheek.

She had slipped and used his real name, but this once, Lukas found that he didn't mind. He laid his hand over hers for a moment, then said, "Don't thank me yet. Amos hasn't agreed to the truce."

Gwendolyn laughed and wiped the tears from her eyes. "He will. I'll force him to, somehow."

"Then I'll speak to Ms. De Lacy, and have her draw up the legal documents."

Gwendolyn nodded. "Fine, but let me talk to Amos first. He'll take it better coming from me than from your lawyer."

"All right," Lukas said. "Amos probably won't believe me, but I don't really care about the title or the money. I just want..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I want my father's name back. I want the inheritance he fought for, not so much because I want it for myself, but because he wanted it for me."

"I understand," Gwendolyn said quietly, reaching out to clasp his hand. "I understand, Cyril, even if Amos doesn't. I'm sorry, I mean, Lukas."

"It's all right, Gwen." Lukas hesitated again; hadn't he said that he was going to stop denying his name and heritage? "You can call me 'Cyril' if you wish."

"Really?" she asked, her face lighting up.

"Really," Lukas said, then suddenly laughed. "Why not? Lady Selima refuses to call me anything else!" Gwendolyn jumped up and flung her arms around him, and still laughing, he protested, "Gwennie!" His inner wolf growled contentedly; it had decided that she was pack. Lukas the man was having a little more trouble coming to terms with it, but he followed the wolf's instincts, and very gingerly returned the embrace.

*** 

The Career Fair was a big success. Classes were canceled for the day of the fair, which delighted the students, and prospective employers gathered in the Great Hall to hand out brochures and talk to interested students. The Gringotts representatives, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour, garnered a large and--not surprisingly--mostly male audience who hung on Fleur's every word. The boys also enjoyed hearing about Bill's adventures as a curse-breaker in Egypt, though, and a few girls eyed Bill appreciatively, much to Fleur's displeasure. Her expression softened slightly when she looked at Gabrielle, who was delighted to see her again. Gabby spent most of the day sitting with Fleur and gazing at her older sister adoringly.

Sirius showed up on behalf of the Ministry, although not a great many students seemed interested in joining the Werewolf Support Services department. Much to his surprise, his three most enthusiastic potential recruits were all Slytherins: Crabbe, Goyle, and Brad Doherty. Sirius had known Crabbe and Goyle senior in school, and remembered them as being stupid and obnoxious, but their sons clearly idolized Lupin, as did the Doherty boy. Sirius couldn't help but smile in amusement at the irony of it all. Moony certainly had a way of charming Slytherins--not just Snape, but his students as well! A couple of Gryffindors, Dennis Creevey and Martin Parry, also expressed interest in working for Werewolf Support when they graduated.

A dreamy-eyed girl in a Ravenclaw uniform came up to the table and said, sounding disappointed, "Oh, so you're not Stubby Boardman, after all."

"Huh?" a puzzled Sirius said.

"Oh, it's just one of Loony Lovegood's crazy ideas," Crabbe said, but in a friendly manner. "When you were a fugitive, her dad's paper said that Sirius Black was really the lead singer of the Hobgoblins in disguise."

"It was a valid theory," Luna said gravely. 

"Er...never heard of the Hobgoblins," Sirius said, still puzzled. "Then again, it was hard to keep up with popular music in Azkaban. Would you like a brochure, Miss Lovegood?"

"Certainly," she said with a smile, accepting the proffered brochure. "I haven't decided on a career choice yet, but working with werewolves sounds like fun. Then again, I might go to work with my dad on the Quibbler, or I would like to work with Thestrals. They're not used widely outside of Hogwarts, but I think they make an excellent form of transportation. Maybe I could start my own Thestral carriage service."

"Um...right," Sirius said. The girl didn't seem to be altogether there; her eyes had a very dreamy and faraway look, as if she was looking at something that no one else could see. Sirius suddenly noticed that her eyes were an odd silvery-grade shade not unlike Math's and Dylan's, and he wondered if there might be some Donner blood in her family tree. A touch of the Sight might explain her oddness, and that air of looking into another world.

"What a great idea!" Crabbe said to Luna. "But where would we get the Thestrals from?"

"'We'?" Goyle asked.

"We could tame some wild ones," Luna said earnestly, ignoring Goyle, "or perhaps Hogwarts would sell us some, since the herd is continuing to breed and grow larger."

"What about Werewolf Support?" Goyle asked.

"Oh yeah," Crabbe said, looking torn.

Sirius chuckled. "There are many ways people can contribute to Werewolf Support, both directly and indirectly. Your hypothetical Thestral carriage business could become a sponsor of the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program, for example, or you might consider hiring werewolves if your business grows large enough to need additional employees." Goyle, Crabbe, and Luna beamed at each other.

"Well, I want to work in the Werewolf Support office," Brad declared firmly. "What qualifications do I need?"

"Mostly an abundance of patience," Sirius sighed, "to keep from hexing the bigots you'll run into, not to mention the werewolves themselves, who are mostly stubborn and proud, and don't like accepting what they see as charity. And there's a lot of red tape and paperwork involved."

Brad grinned. "Living in Slytherin House all these years has taught me a lot about patience. When you're not one of the cream of the pureblood elite, you have to learn how not to offend those who are, like the Malfoys. And my dad's an accountant, so paperwork's not a big deal to me."

"I'd like to hire an assistant or two," Sirius said, "but the job won't pay much."

"We don't care!" the students chorused, and Sirius smiled. He expected such things from the Gryffindors, but it was unheard of for a Slytherin to want a job that had low pay and little status. He could certainly use a secretary to help him deal with all the paperwork, not to mention someone to help him balance his budget and submit all the receipts that those nitpicking idiots at the Ministry required; it was a pity that Doherty was only a sixth-year. 

"Perhaps you might consider applying for a part-time summer job," Sirius suggested, "even though you can't work for me full-time until you graduate."

"What about us?" Dennis asked eagerly, and Martin, Crabbe, and Goyle echoed him.

"Well, I'm not sure how many assistants I can afford to hire," Sirius said. "I'll have to talk it over with Arthur."

"The pay's not important, sir," Dennis assured him. "And it would be good work experience."

"It will look good on our resumes," Brad said, with Slytherin practicality, "to be able to say that we worked at the Ministry, even if it's only as a volunteer or an intern."

"Well then, I'm sure I could pay at least a token salary," Sirius said, "and perhaps arrange some sort of work-study program with the Headmaster, so that at least you'll get extra credit for your work. I'll send some applications to your Heads of House."

Meanwhile, also representing the Ministry were Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, on behalf of the Aurors. They attracted a larger crowd than Sirius, but many of the students were dismayed when they learned about the stringent requirements of the job. 

"A minimum of five N.E.W.T.s!" groaned Kevin Whitby, the Hufflepuff Chaser.

"And you have to take Potions through seventh year!" Kenneth Sloper said in horror.

Tonks grinned and winked at him. "Oh, Professor Snape's not so bad," she said cheerfully. "You might say that his bark is worse than his bite." The students did not look convinced, and she added, "I was his student several years ago, and I managed to survive! Well, with a few scars..."

"Tonks!" Kingsley said. "We're supposed to be recruiting candidates, not driving them away!"

Tonks laughed. "Just kidding!"

"I will become an Auror," Stewart Ackerley said determinedly, "no matter how hard it is. Even if it means seven years of Potions class."

"Ah, Stewart," Kingsley said, a little awkwardly. "Planning to carry on in your father's footsteps? I'm sure he'd be very proud of you."

"Thank you, sir," Stewart said, a little stiffly.

"What about you, Harry?" Tonks asked. "Still thinking of joining our ranks? We'd certainly love to have you. And you too, Ron."

Harry smiled at her. "I'm still thinking it over. I'm not really sure what I want to do when I graduate, and besides, I'll have to see if I can pass those N.E.W.T.s first."

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Harry," Kingsley said in a hearty voice. "You're a real natural at Defense magic, and it would be a shame to waste your talent."

"But no one could blame Harry if he'd had his fill of combat," a gentle voice said, and the crowd turned to see Lupin approaching. Lupin smiled and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Although I'm sure you'll do fine on your N.E.W.T.s."

"Well, keep us in mind, Harry," Kingsley said. 

Stewart frowned, looking a little resentful, though no one seemed to notice but Lupin. "So you want to be an Auror?" Lupin said with a friendly smile. "No wonder you work so hard during my class." It was true; although the Ravenclaw boy was a bit standoffish, and one of the few students who didn't seem to like Lupin, he did work very hard at his assignments. "It's a bit early to worry about your N.E.W.T.s, but you have your O.W.L.s coming up next year. I'll be happy to help you prepare for them when the time comes. I have some sample test sheets you can look at if you're interested."

"Thank you, Professor," Stewart said coolly, "but I think I can manage on my own."

Some of the other students frowned, but Lupin just said cheerily, in the same tone that always drove Snape up the wall, "It's nice to see a student who's so confident of his abilities!" He patted Stewart on the shoulder, then walked away, leaving the boy staring after him suspiciously, not sure whether Lupin was making fun of him or not.

Lupin joined Takeshi at the St. Mungo's table, where the young mediwizard was talking to Aric, who scowled at the werewolf. "You told him I wanted to become a mediwizard, didn't you?" he asked Takeshi accusingly.

"I didn't know it was a secret," Takeshi said mildly. "If you had asked me to keep it confidential, I would of course have respected your wishes." He pushed his gold wire-rimmed glasses, which were perpetually sliding down his nose, back up. "Although it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary, in fact."

Lupin grinned. "The Slytherins like to maintain their cynical reputation, and the Healing profession is a little too altruistic for their taste. Severus was mortified when the Daily Prophet made him out to be a hero after the war!"

"It's just kind of personal, that's all," Aric said grumpily.

"I'm sorry, Aric," Takeshi said in a more serious voice. "I didn't realize that you hadn't told Remus and Lukas about your plans, otherwise I never would have mentioned it to them."

"It's not your fault," Aric said, looking a little guilty. "Like you said, I never told you it was a secret. I guess it's not a big deal; I'm going to graduate soon, and then everyone will know what my plans are, anyway. It's just...I kind of wanted to think things through and decide if that's really what I want to do before I talked about it with anyone else."

Takeshi smiled. "Well, if you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them now--or later in private, if you wish." Before Aric could reply, they were joined by a number of other students, including Lavender, Neville, Serafina, Blaise, and Theodore. Lupin introduced his students to Takeshi, although he recognized most of them already, since Takeshi used to be a student at Hogwarts himself.

"It's a little strange being back at Hogwarts," Takeshi confessed. "I half expect Professor Snape to give me detention!"

The students laughed. "I don't remember you ever getting detention," Theodore said.

"No, I was a typical Ravenclaw, quiet and studious," Takeshi agreed. "And much too scared of Professor Snape to risk crossing him!" The students laughed again.

"No, I'm afraid that usually the Gryffindors are the only ones that brave and foolish," Lupin said with a rueful smile.

"Hey!" Lavender protested indignantly.

"Although I was slightly less scared of the Professor than most of my classmates," Takeshi continued, "since I saw him at my parents' restaurant frequently, and they seemed to think very highly of him. And he was, well...not nice, exactly, but polite to me there, when we weren't in public. I didn't know it then, of course, but Professor Snape was using the Portkey at the Sakura to travel to Japan to work with Professor Kamiyama on the Wolfsbane Potion."

"For Professor Lupin's sake," Lavender sighed. "That's so romantic!"

"Don't let the Professor hear you say that," Theodore said dryly, but fortunately for Lavender, Snape was across the room talking to Mr. Jigger.

"So are you interested in a medical career, Theodore?" Takeshi asked pleasantly.

"Uh, no, not really," Theodore replied, then motioned to Blaise. "But my friend is."

"Well, actually my mother is the one who's really interested," Blaise said with a little sigh. "She's been wanting me to become a mediwizard ever since Professor Chizuru told her that I had a Healing Gift--a very minor one, mind you."

Takeshi smiled at him sympathetically. "Ah yes, parental expectations. I think my father was a little disappointed that I didn't want to take over the restaurant, although he supported my decision to become a mediwizard. I enjoy cooking for myself and my friends, but I wouldn't care to do it for a living." Lupin leaned over and whispered something into his ear. "Remus says you're more the scholarly type; there are related fields of work you could go into that don't involve actual Healing. You might, for example, brew and develop medicinal potions, or do research on medical spells."

"M-maybe I could do something like that," Neville stammered. "I'm not much good with people, but I'm good with plants. I kind of want to be an Herbologist, and I could specialize in medicinal herbs. And brew healing potions--if I can get through Snape's class and pass my Potions N.E.W.T."

"We always need a good supply of healing herbs and potions at St. Mungo's," Takeshi said. "And what about you, Serafina? Do you wish to become a Healer? I wouldn't want to pressure you, of course, but to have such a full and strong Healing Gift is very rare; it would be a shame to waste it..."

Serafina looked startled. "How did you know about that?"

"Professor Chizuru is a friend of my parents," Takeshi replied. "She visited the Sakura often while she was here, and she mentioned a very talented and promising young student she had."

Serafina smiled shyly at him--a very rare sight for the normally emotionless Slytherin girl. "I enjoyed Professor Chizuru's classes very much, and yes, I would like to become a Healer."

Takeshi handed her a brochure. "Well then, you'll need to take N.E.W.T.s in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." He gave her a conspiratorial grin. "I'm sure all the departments at St. Mungo's will be competing to recruit you, but I hope you'll give mine special consideration--I work in Creature-Induced Injuries, in the 'Dangerous' Dai Lleywellyn Ward. We specialize in Serious Bites."

"Takeshi is one of the few Healers and mediwizards who isn't afraid to work with werewolves," Lupin said. "He also volunteers at the clinic in Diagon Alley."

"Then I think I would like to work in that department," Serafina said solemnly. 

"Then I think I can guarantee you a job," Takeshi said with a grin, "so long as you do well on your N.E.W.T.s."

"It won't be a problem," Lupin said firmly. "Serafina is one of my brightest students."

Takeshi turned to Lavender. "And I remember seeing you and your friend at St. Mungo's this summer. You were working as volunteers?"

"Yes, sir," she said firmly. "I want to become a mediwizard."

"Oh, please don't call me 'sir'!" Takeshi laughed. "It makes me feel old!"

Lavender giggled, and Lupin slapped him on the arm good-naturedly. "Hey, you don't get to say you're old until you have some gray in your hair, like me!"

"Excuse me, sir...um, I mean, Takeshi," Neville said hesitantly. "What's the difference between a Healer and a mediwizard?"

"Well, a Healer usually handles the more serious illnesses and injuries that require the kind of spells that only someone with a full Healing Gift can cast. A mediwizard like me assists the Healers, handles less serious cases, and travels outside of the hospital to deal with emergencies. Usually we stabilize the patient, and if necessary, transport them to St. Mungo's for further healing."

"Like a paramedic in the Muggle world?" Emma Creevey asked.

"Yes, that's a very good analogy," Takeshi said. "Also, most mediwizards--again, like me--have a minor Healing Gift, but not a full one."

"Does that mean I can't become a mediwizard if I don't have a Healing Gift?" Aric asked, looking worried.

"Not all mediwizards actually have the Gift," Takeshi assured him, "although it's certainly helpful if you do."

"Since when do you want to become a mediwizard?" Theodore asked.

"None of your business!" Aric snapped, but subsided when Takeshi gave him a disapproving frown.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did turn out to have the Gift," Takeshi said pleasantly, "since your uncle also had one." Both boys turned a little pale and looked uncomfortable. Takeshi pretended not to notice, and told Aric, "You could ask Madam Pomfrey to test you for it, or I could have one of the Healers at St. Mungo's do it, if you prefer. I'm afraid that my own Gift isn't strong enough to allow me test you myself."

"You knew my uncle?" Theodore asked.

"No, but many of my coworkers at St. Mungo's did. He was very well-liked and respected. He used to work for my supervisor, Hippocrates Smethwyck, who was training him to be a full Healer."

Theodore blinked back tears, and abruptly rose to his feet. "Come on, Blaise. Didn't you want to talk to those people from the Museum of Wizarding History? Fath--I mean, the Professor said he'd recommend you for a position there if you wanted."

He and Blaise hurried off, and Aric stood as well. "I wanted to go talk to the Quidditch recruiters. But I'll come see you later, Takeshi."

"Oh dear," Takeshi said, looking distressed. "I didn't mean to upset them."

"It's a sensitive topic with them," Lupin said gently, "but it's not your fault. Why don't you continue talking with the others, and I'll check up on them."

Theodore had calmed down, and he and Blaise were talking to a curator from the museum when both Lupin and Snape joined them. "So you might consider applying to work as a docent at the museum this summer," the curator was saying, handing Blaise a brochure. "Ah, hello, Professor Snape. Didn't you say that your son had an interest in Ancient Runes?" When Snape nodded, the curator added, "You might also consider applying for a job with us, then, young Mr. Snape. We can always use someone to translate old texts and runic carvings, but you'll need more advanced training for that. An apprenticeship with a Master of Rune Lore, perhaps..."

Lupin relaxed, and they chatted with curator for awhile, then Snape led them away, saying, "I want the two of you to talk to a colleague of mine from the Laboratory for Spell Research. Professor Blackmore's parents used to work there."

"Er...and weren't they killed there? Didn't the laboratory explode?" Theodore asked nervously.

"Yes, but that was the Dark Lord's doing, and had nothing to do with the research they were conducting," Snape said briskly. "The laboratory was rebuilt years ago. Don't worry; it's perfectly safe."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said obediently, if a bit dubiously.

"I think you'd do well at research, Mr. Zabini," Snape continued. "You're patient and methodical, and have an analytic mind. Of course, those qualities would also serve you well at the museum, if that's what you prefer..."

"I do like history," Blaise said. "At least, I enjoy reading about it. But Professor Binns is...well...er..."

"Boring," Theodore said bluntly. "It's all I can do to stay awake in that class."

"No disrespect intended," Blaise added hastily, but Lupin chuckled and Snape smiled sardonically.

"I remember pinching myself to stay awake in that class," Lupin said nostalgically. "I think Sirius actually fell asleep once, and started snoring loud enough for even Binns to notice."

"Yes, the Headmaster planned to replace him when he died," Snape said, "but unfortunately, he kept showing up for class even after he was dead, and the old man was too softhearted to fire him. I suppose it's difficult to fire a ghost, anyway."

"Intending no slight towards Professor Binns," Lupin said, "but it seems to me that the students might learn more if they had a teacher who made the subject seem a bit more interesting."

Snape shrugged. "You'll have to take it up with the Headmaster." Then he grinned--his most evil Potions Master grin. "Besides, learning isn't always meant to be a pleasant experience, Lupin."

Lupin laughed. "It isn't always necessary to terrorize your students in order to be an effective teacher, Severus."

"Why change a method that works so well, Lupin?" Snape retorted, and Lupin laughed again, slipping an arm around him. "Damn it, Lupin! How many times do I have to tell you not to maul me in public?!"

Meanwhile, Dylan and Hermione were talking with Mr. Jigger, who was trying to convince them to take over his Apothecary shop when he retired. "It would be nice to bring in some new blood," he said coaxingly. "It would bring some life to the place, to have a young couple running it, instead of a dried-up old stick like me!" Dylan grinned at Hermione, who smiled back at him, blushing. They simultaneously reached out to clasp each other's hands. 

"No fair stealing my future assistant, Mr. Jigger!" Morrigan De Lacy protested, but with a smile. 

"But look at what a beautiful couple they make!" Jigger argued, motioning to the pair, who were still holding hands. "It would be a shame to split them up!"

"They can be a couple, but still hold different jobs," Morrigan pointed out. "Mr. Rosier could easily run the shop alone."

"But the shop should be a family-run business," Jigger said, winking at Hermione and Dylan. "Run together by husband and wife, and perhaps passed down to their children..." Hermione's blush grew even deeper.

"Putting the cart a little ahead of the horse, aren't you?" Morrigan asked, looking amused.

"Oh, not by much, I think," Jigger said, winking at the young couple again. "They'll have to finish school first, of course. I was thinking Miss Granger could apprentice with me for a year while Mr. Rosier completes his studies at Hogwarts and passes his Potions N.E.W.T., then I could step down and they could run the shop together."

"What about your plans to help the house-elves?" Morrigan asked Hermione.

"But it would be so much fun to run the shop together," Dylan protested. "With two of us there, we could take on more work, and sell actual potions in addition to ingredients, maybe even charms and counter-curses. And...I really do want to work with you."

Hermione looked torn. "I really love Potions, and I want to work with Dylan, but I also want to fight for house-elf rights!" Then she said hopefully, "But the house-elves can't afford to pay a lawyer, so I'd still need to support myself. Maybe I could do both?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to just take on additional cases at the law firm?" Morrigan asked.

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "But I don't want to take on just any type of case. I mean, I couldn't take on a case that I felt morally opposed to. And, well, not to be cynical, but those are the types of cases that pay the most, aren't they?"

"I doubt that anyone will ever get rich defending house-elves," Morrigan agreed. "But trying to hold down two jobs at once will not be easy."

"I can do it," Hermione said in a determined voice.

"If anyone can, Hermione can," Dylan said confidently.

"The world's first Potions Mistress-slash-lawyer?" Morrigan asked, raising her eyebrows. Then she smiled. "Well, perhaps you can do it, after all. The young woman who fought Death Eaters and tamed giants should be able to handle just about anything!" 

Hermione, whose coloring had just returned to normal, turned red again. "Oh, I'm not a Potions Mistress yet!" she said. "I haven't even passed my N.E.W.T.!"

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Dylan said, "you know you'll ace it."

"But I want to get my Master-class qualification, and I know you do, too, which means further study after graduation for both of us."

"Professor Snape will be able to assist both of you with your studies, I'm sure," Jigger assured her. "And I'll do my best to help you as well, although his skills far exceed mine, I'm sorry to say. I have my Master qualification, but young Severus is a true genius at Potions, a Master even among Masters."

"That is true," Morrigan agreed. "I suppose Severus will be upset if I take such a promising young student out of the Potions field entirely. Shall we agree to split Miss Granger's apprenticeship, then?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Morrigan," Jigger said, but he held out his hand and she shook it.

"I'll work you hard, Miss Granger," Morrigan warned. "And I suspect Mr. Jigger will, too. You'll be pulling long shifts, and sometimes working six, even seven days a week, especially when a case is ready to go to trial."

"I understand, Ms. De Lacy," Hermione said, her eyes shining. "Don't worry, I won't let either of you down!"

"Hermione thrives on stress," Dylan said, laughing.

"We may have to get you a time-turner," Morrigan said.

"Never again," Hermione muttered, shaking her head vigorously. 

"I was joking, Miss Granger," Morrigan said, giving her a puzzled look.

"And what do you mean 'again'?" Dylan asked.

Hermione laughed nervously. "Oh, nothing. I just said I'd never use a time-turner; they're way too dangerous, and besides, where would I get one?" The other three gave her suspicious looks, and then they simultaneously glanced over to where Dumbledore was chatting with Bill at the Gringotts table.

"Well, never mind," Morrigan said with a smile, and dropped the subject. "I doubt that I would be able to get authorization to use a time-turner, so you'll just have to work hard in real time, Miss Granger."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Recruiters for several Quidditch teams had come to the Career Fair, but to the annoyance and disappointment of the other Hogwarts players, they were mainly interested in recruiting Harry. "I can guarantee you a bonus for signing with us, Mr. Potter," said a recruiter for the Tutshill Tornados, and named an amount that made Ron's eyes go wide and saucer-like.

Harry, however, didn't care about the money; he had plenty in Gringotts. He did love Quidditch, but could he do it for a living? Sure, he had done well on the Gryffindor team, but was he good enough to be a professional? And he'd wanted to become an Auror; playing Quidditch seemed a little trivial compared to fighting Death Eaters...but the Death Eaters were defeated, so did he still want to be an Auror? Kingsley and Tonks seemed to think he'd make a good one, and he would enjoy working with them...

"Well, I haven't really decided what to do after I graduate," Harry said. "I was thinking of becoming an Auror..."

"A fine and noble profession," the recruiter said, "but surely that can wait a few years now that You-Know-Who is dead. You could play Quidditch professionally for, say, five to ten years, then join the Ministry after you retire..."

"Think of the fame and fortune you'll gain," another recruiter enthused.

"He's already rich and famous," Aric pointed out sourly.

"Well, you'll be even more rich and famous!" the recruiter said, undaunted. "And think of all the young ladies who will swoon over you--"

Suddenly a career in Quidditch no longer seemed so appealing to Harry; the last thing he wanted was to be more famous than he already was! "Come on, Ron, let's go see what Hermione's doing," he said hastily.

"She's still talking to the Apothecary," Ron protested, but Harry grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away, ignoring his objections.

"Think of your civic duty!" the recruiter for English national team called out. "England needs your skills, Mr. Potter! You could play in the next World Cup--which is coming up next year!"

That caused Harry to pause long enough for the recruiters to press their business cards upon him. "I'll think about it," he said, then hurried off.

Ron took the cards from Harry and began looking them over. "Just about every team in Britain wants you, Harry," he said enviously. "The Tornados, Puddlemere United, the Chudley Cannons--boy, I'd love to play for them!"

"I want to play Quidditch," Harry said, "and I'd love to play in the World Cup, but I don't want to be famous. It's bad enough as it, the way people stare and point at me now, calling me the Boy Who Lived and the Savior of the Wizarding World. I just want to be...normal."

Ron smiled. "Sorry, Harry, but one thing you are not is normal!"

Harry sighed. "I suppose you're right."

"And a good thing, too," Ron said, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders, "or You-Know-Who would be running things now! You're already famous, Harry, like it or not, so why not be a little more famous? And think of all those girls swooning over you!" Harry laughed, and Ron was pleased that he'd managed to cheer his friend up. 

They met up with Hermione and Dylan, who were still sitting with Mr. Jigger. A few other students had gathered around them. "Well, no job openings here," Terry Boot joked. "None of us can compete with Granger and Rosier in Potions expertise."

"I'm no good at Potions at all," Seamus Finnigan said ruefully.

"Oh, don't go away, gentlemen!" Jigger said. "It's true that I'm taking on Miss Granger and Mr. Rosier as my apprentices, but I can still offer employment to a few adventurous young souls--no expertise in potion-brewing required!" 

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"My shop is always in need of rare ingredients," Jigger explained. "You don't think I go out and gather dragon blood or snake venom myself, do you? And one of my best suppliers is recovering in St. Mungo's at present; an unfortunate incident with an Erumpent in Africa. It seems he'll be laid up for several months."

"Erumpent? Ron said.

"A rhinocerous-like beast," Hermione immediately explained in a didactic tone. "The horns of the males are filled with an explosive fluid. They frequently blow each other up during mating season and are, for obvious reasons, an endangered species."

"I don't like the sound of that," Ron said, turning a little pale, but a few of the bolder students looked intrigued.

Meanwhile, across the room, Liam and Damien Pierce sat together at a table, with no prospective employees in sight.

"Tell me again why I'm here," Liam said to his son, sounding rather disgruntled.

"Because Professor Lupin twisted your arm and talked you into coming to the Fair," Damien said cheerfully, arranging a display of cauldrons on the table in front of them.

"I don't know how I let that fast-talking little Gryffindor werewolf convince me to do this," Liam grumbled. He was a foreman at a cauldron-making factory, a respectable enough job, but he knew that the wealthier Slytherin families regarded it as "middle-class" and beneath their dignity. He'd tried for a Ministry job after graduation, but he just didn't have the wealth or connections necessary to get one. He actually liked his current job, but he was still enough of a Slytherin to be a little ashamed of it, and he didn't really fancy the idea of seeing his son's housemates looking down their snooty little noses at him.

Damien just laughed. "Oh, Professor Lupin is very good at talking people into doing things. He managed to talk Professor Snape into being his lover--that's quite an accomplishment, don't you think?"

"Damien!" Liam scolded.

"Well, it's not like it's a secret," Damien said. "Lupin's always cuddling up to Snape at the head table during meals, or in the stands during Quidditch practice." He rolled his eyes. "The girls think it's all very cute and romantic." As if to prove his point, Lupin was at that exact moment putting his arm around Snape's waist, while the Potions Master barked at him and tried to disentangle himself.

"What is the world coming to?" Liam sighed, then shook his head, looking a little puzzled. "Lupin always seemed so shy and meek when we were in school; how did he grow up to be so bold?"

"Dylan and Theo told me that Snape is always saying that Lupin is sly as any Slytherin, and that the meekness is all an act," Damien said with a grin.

"Hmm," Liam said thoughtfully, staring at the werewolf with new respect. "Well, I still think this is a waste of time," he said. "No one seems to be interested in a career in cauldron-making."

"I'm sure someone will come along, Dad," Damien said loyally, and a few minutes later, Neville Longbottom strolled by and stopped to take a look at the cauldrons. 

"I've given you a lot of business," he said with a sheepish smile. "I must have melted about a dozen of these things over the years! I don't suppose you can come out with some sort of extra-strength model?"

Just then, a few Ravenclaws walked towards the table--Michael Corner, Lisa Turpin, and Padma Patil, joined by two Gryffindors, Padma's sister Parvati, and Lavender. "That's my girl, Dad," Damien whispered to his father, subtly motioning towards Parvati. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

"She's a Gryffindor," Liam pointed out, a little sourly.

"Yeah, Dad, I did kind of notice that," the ever-irrepressible Damien replied. "The red-and-gold crest on her robe is a dead giveaway. But she's a pureblood and her family is pretty well off, if that makes you feel any better." Damien winked at his father. "It could be worse, Dad. I could be dating a Muggle-born, like Dylan, or a werewolf, like Snape."

Liam glared at his son, but by now the students were within earshot, so he was unable to carry on their conversation any further. "We'll discuss this later, young man," he whispered, a stern expression on his face.

Damien introduced his friends to his father, and Parvati smiled charmingly and held out her hand, saying, "It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Pierce."

Liam was not really thrilled about his son dating a Gryffindor, but he shook her hand and said gallantly, "It's nice to meet you, too, Miss Patil. I can see why my son is so smitten with you."

"Dad!" Damien protested, his face turning red, and Parvati giggled and fluttered her eyelashes coyly.

"Well, I can see where Damien gets his charm from!" she laughed.

"Can I interest any of you young people in a career in cauldron-making?" Liam asked, not very hopefully.

Lisa picked up one of the cauldrons on the table and began examining it carefully. "These things melt so easily--" she started to say.

"Tell me about it," Neville said, flushing.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you weren't the only one," Michael said with a friendly smile. "I melted one, too, in first year Potions class. I knew you were supposed to take the cauldron off the fire before adding the porcupine quills, but I got so nervous with Snape hovering over me that I forgot and, well...there went my cauldron."

"It just seems like there should be a way to make a stronger cauldron that won't melt even if you botch your Boil Cure Potion," Lisa continued. "An enchantment, or a stronger alloy, or a combination of the two."

"But if it were that easy, wouldn't someone have already come up with one?" Padma argued.

"Not necessarily," Parvati replied, then smiled a little slyly at Damien's father. "You sell a lot more cauldrons this way, don't you?"

Well, the girl was clever as well as pretty, Liam mused. Perhaps she wouldn't be such a bad match for his son, after all. 

"But you could charge more for a stronger cauldron," Lisa pointed out. "And it would be a lot safer in class, too--you wouldn't have to worry about people getting hurt by spilled potion or molten metal."

"And since we've been taking Advanced Potions," Michael added, "I've been thinking it might be good to have different types of cauldrons for different purposes. I mean, for most people, a standard cauldron is fine, but when you're working on more complicated types of potions, like the Wolfsbane Potion, for example, the cauldron often needs to be kept at a specific temperature. For the Wolfsbane Potion, which needs to be kept hot, you could have a cauldron that conducts and holds heat easily."

"And there are other potions that will be ruined if they go above a certain temperature, and for those you'd want a cauldron with the opposite effect," Lisa continued.

"This has certain possibilities," Liam said, looking interested. "But such cauldrons would have rather limited appeal."

"Probably only serious potion-brewers would want them," Lisa agreed. "But that means you could charge more for them, maybe build them on commission."

"Well, we'd have to figure out the cost-effectiveness, but it sounds promising," Liam admitted. "So is this all theoretical, or have you specific ideas for enchanting these cauldrons?"

"Well, Lisa and I have come up with some ideas, sir," Michael said enthusiastically, "but we haven't been able to try them out, since they involve placing the enchantments on the cauldrons as they're being forged, and Hogwarts doesn't have a foundry..."

"Have a seat," Liam said, "and tell me about your ideas."

Damien leaned over and whispered, "I told you it wouldn't be a waste of time." 

Liam smiled at his son. "You should go around and talk to the other recruiters, too. You'll be needing employment in a couple of years yourself."

"Great idea, Dad!" Damien said. "Come on, Parvati, let's go talk to the Quidditch recruiters!"

"That's not what I meant!" Liam shouted, but his son was already running off, followed by a giggling Parvati.

Lupin strolled by, accompanied by a sour-faced Snape. "Hello, Liam," he said with a cheerful smile. "Thank you for coming. How are things going? It seems like you already have a few potential recruits."

Liam groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Every time I talk to my son, I feel more gray hairs sprouting!"

Lupin chuckled. "Well, you still don't have as many as me!"

"It's more likely I'll tear it all out before it grows completely gray," Liam grumbled. "You're his Head of House, Severus; can't you talk some sense into the boy? I asked him about his career plans earlier, and he told me in all seriousness that he wants to be a Quidditch star!"

"He does quite well in class when he applies himself," Snape said. "The problem is getting him to apply himself. Unfortunately, he seems much more interested in Quidditch and girls than his studies, although his grades have gone up since he and Mr. Rosier starting rooming together."

"He's a strong mage," Lupin said in Damien's defense. "He was able to cast a full Patronus and hold his own fighting the Death Eaters. But I don't think he'll ever be able to hold down a desk job. Something a little more adventurous would be better suited to his personality; a curse-breaker, perhaps, or maybe an Auror?"

Liam frowned, and Snape noticed. Most Slytherins felt a little uneasy around the Aurors, having been regarded with suspicion during both wars. "The thought of Mr. Pierce being an officer of the law is a little scary," Snape said in a sarcastic voice. "However, my mother's cousin, Ali Bashir, is looking for a few apprentices. The job entails a great deal of travel throughout Europe and Asia, which should appeal to Mr. Pierce's sense of adventure, and there's relatively little danger involved."

"Relatively?" Liam asked suspiciously.

Snape shrugged. "Traveling with a wealthy merchant, there's always the possibility of being attacked by thieves, but Ali takes all precautions, and Mr. Pierce seems to have a talent for combative and defensive magic. And occasionally an irate customer who feels he's gotten the raw end of a deal will cause a fuss, but there haven't been any serious incidents that I've heard about. Certainly it's still safer than being an Auror."

"Hmm," Liam said thoughtfully, "well, perhaps I'll talk to Mr. Bashir later. Thank you, Severus." Then he turned his attention back to his Ravenclaw recruits.

Lupin and Snape wandered away. "Liam has always been serious, practical, and sensible, even as a boy," Snape said. "It's no wonder that his son drives him to distraction."

"Clearly Damien doesn't take after his father," Lupin said with a smile.

"No, I think he takes after his mother in more than his red hair," Snape agreed. "Aileen had a bit of a mischievous streak herself back in school. She and several other Slytherin girls, including Narcissa, once got detention for sneaking out of the dorm after hours to meet some boys. And another time, she managed to get hold of a love-letter a Gryffindor girl had written to Lucius Malfoy and posted it on the bulletin board where the entire school could see it. Which gave me the idea to do the same thing to Potter later." Snape grinned wickedly. "Lily Evans and her friends laughed their heads off, and made fun of his bad poetry. That was my payback for that little incident beside the lake after exams in third year."

Lupin smiled, pleased and relieved to see that Severus could recall that incident without the usual pain and rancor. "A Gryffindor wrote a love letter to Lucius?" he asked.

"Well, I don't think she really intended to give it to him," Snape said. "She was just pouring out her feelings on paper, or whatever it is that lovesick teenage girls do. But yes, some of the Gryffindor girls quite fancied Lucius, apparently. He was very handsome, with all that beautiful blond hair, and I suppose the allure of the forbidden appealed to them."

"Did you ever fancy Lucius and his beautiful blond hair?" Lupin asked lightly.

"Never," Snape instantly replied. "I've never fancied anyone but you, Lupin."

Lupin sighed happily and linked his arm through Snape's, leaning over to rest his head on Snape's shoulder. "Well, aren't you the romantic, Professor Snape?"

"Lupin, will you cut that out?! Honestly, you're a Professor now; try to act like one, will you?"

Lupin laughed and released Snape, but not before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. A couple of girls passing by giggled, then went pale and hurried off when Snape glared at them. Snape huffily continued on his way, his long stride causing his black robes to billow out behind him as Lupin followed in his wake, grinning widely. They stopped at the table where Ali Bashir was sitting, a large crowd of students gathered around him, watching a miniature flying carpet circle above their heads.

"Ali," Snape said in a disapproving tone.

"It's perfectly legal, Severus," Ali said. "It's only a model, so it's classified as a toy. I was just trying to give these young people an idea of what a flying carpet looks like, since they can't see the real thing."

"It would be cool to ride a real flying carpet!" Ron said enthusiastically.

Ali smiled, looking like a plump cat regarding a bowl of cream. "Then perhaps you could drop a suggestion into your father's ear, young Mr. Weasley," he purred.

"The Minister is rapidly going to grow sick of seeing and hearing from you if he hasn't already," Snape said in his sour, sardonic voice.

"I'm counting on it," Ali said, still smiling smugly. "Eventually he's going to give me what I want just to make me go away!" Snape let out a little snort of laughter, and let Ali continue regaling the students with promises of wealth and adventure in distant lands. "You'll meet many lovely, exotic women," he promised the boys, then winked at the girls and added, "and many handsome men, too!" They giggled. "My family has a long history as adventurers--I'm a direct descendant of Ali Baba, you know."

"As in Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves?" Colin Creevey asked eagerly.

"That's the first I've heard of it," Snape muttered.

"Then you are woefully uneducated about your family history, Severus," Ali said without missing a beat. "I shall have to speak to your mother about it."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said so," Snape said with a malicious smile, causing Ali's composure to falter just a little. 

"Ah...perhaps I spoke too hastily," Ali said. "Of course your mother would focus on educating you about your Snape heritage more than your Bashir heritage since you were the Snape heir. It would be churlish of me to chide my dear cousin for it, especially when she is still grieving for your father. Please do not trouble Selima with my foolish words."

"As you wish," Snape said with a little smirk. He turned to leave, then added, "Oh, and Uncle Ali? I'm not going to hear any complaints from the parents of my students about you, am I?" His voice was pleasant and casual, but there was a menacing glint in his eyes.

"Of course not, Severus!" Ali assured him.

"Good," Snape said, then walked away. Lupin winked at Ali and the students before following after him.

Ali made a show of wiping sweat from his brow and sighed. "My, Severus certainly takes after his mother!"

"Really?" Colin asked curiously. "What's she like?"

Ali glanced around to make sure that Snape was out of earshot, then began, "Well, my cousin Selima is a most formidable woman..."

Snape and Lupin heard a combination of girlish squeals, barking, and raucous music from across the room. "Must be Cassidy," Lupin said with a grin, and sure enough, it was his old friend from school, showing off some of his inventions: the magical music boxes and toy wolf cubs.

"Oh, it's so cute!" Portia exclaimed as she hugged a squirming white wolf cub. It barked and licked her face. "I'm going to ask Mummy and Daddy to buy me one for Christmas!"

Dylan and Hermione had finally left the Apothecary's table and come over to see what all the fuss was about. When Dylan saw Allegra and Chloe playing with a brown wolf cub, he grinned and said, "That one looks like Professor Lupin!"

"Really?" Allegra said. "Then that's the one I want!"

"Perhaps I should have you pay me royalties, Cass," Lupin joked. "I'm glad to see that your new toys are a big hit."

"Maybe you should make one that looks like Master Bleddri," Allegra suggested brightly. 

"Master Bleddri does not wish to have one modeled after him," Lukas growled.

Allegra jumped a little at the sudden appearance of her teacher, but she smiled up at him cheerfully. "Oh, but why not? I think it would be fun! Say, is a werewolf's fur always the same color as his hair? I mean, Professor Lupin's hair is brown--well, brown and gray--and the wolf's fur is brown, so does that mean that your wolf form is blond, Master Bleddri? Real wolves aren't blond, are they?"

Lukas just stared at her dumbfounded. "Yes, that was my reaction when I first met her, too," Snape told him dryly. "She comes from a Slytherin family, but she has no instinct for self-preservation. I wasn't really surprised when the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor."

Allegra blinked, looking a little confused. "I'm sorry, am I talking too much again? Mummy says I do that a lot. And so does Blaise. Anyway, I didn't mean to offend you, Master Bleddri."

Lukas shook his head. Children who weren't afraid of werewolves; what was the world coming to? "No, child," he sighed. "I am not offended. And yes, my fur is blond when I'm in my wolf form, and no, real wolves are not blond. They are mostly gray, and occasionally white or black. And there is one North American species that is a reddish-brown." Then he walked away, still shaking his head.

"Oh, how delightful!" Professor Flitwick said, picking up one of the toy wolves to examine it more closely. "So very lifelike!"

"High praise coming from you, Professor," Cassidy said. "I recall that toymaking was a hobby of yours."

"Still is," Flitwick said. "But it's just a hobby. These are far advanced beyond anything I've ever made. Oh, Mr. Malfoy, come over here for a moment!" 

He waved at Draco, who came over, looking a little depressed. He'd spoken to several potential employers, but the responses he'd gotten had been lukewarm at best. Not many people were eager to hire the son of a deceased Death Eater. "Don't call us, we'll call you," had in essence been the response of most of the recruiters, phrased in varying degrees of politeness.

"Draco helped me out last year with some toys I was building for charity," Flitwick said, kindly not mentioning that he had only helped out because it was a detention assignment. "He has a good eye for color, and a nice touch with Charms."

"Really?" Cassidy said with interest. "The Charms that animate the wolves are complex and require a delicate touch."

"Mr. Malfoy is one of my best students," Flitwick said.

"And he's quite creative," Lupin added with a mischievous grin, and Draco flushed a little. "Actually, I was thinking he might be suited to a career in advertising, but I'm sure he would do well as an apprentice to you, too. I'm sure he'd be able to come up with many clever ideas for more inventions."

"My business has been doing well," Cassidy said. "A little too well--I'm having trouble keeping up with demand." He hesitated, giving Draco a speculative look. Cassidy had never liked Draco's father, but his old friends Remus and Sirius seemed fond of the boy. "Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Malfoy?" he finally said. "Let's discuss this further, if you're interested."

Draco smiled at him shyly, feeling relieved that someone--anyone--was interested in employing him, even if he'd never imagined a career building toys or music boxes. "I have one of your recording spheres, sir. My mother bought it to record my Quidditch matches."

Cassidy smiled, looking pleased. "Yes, I've heard many people have used them for that purpose. People started bringing them to professional matches, but they've been banned by the International Association of Quidditch."

"They want royalties, do they?" Draco asked with a cynical smile. "Like the groups that record songs for your music boxes? Well, it could still prove profitable...at least for the really big games. I bet there are a lot of people who would have paid for a copy of the last Quidditch World Cup game."

Lupin and Snape left Draco and Cassidy deep in conversation, but Snape was frowning. "I hadn't realized that Draco's options were so limited. I suppose people are shunning him because of Lucius."

"There's nothing wrong with building music boxes and toys," Lupin said.

"It would be a waste of his talent," Snape said.

"Maybe he would actually enjoy it," Lupin said. "Flitwick said Draco enjoyed working on those toys during detention last year, even though he pretended that he didn't."

"Well, if that's really what he wants do, fine," Snape said, still frowning, "though I still think it's a waste. But I don't want him to take the job just because he can't find anything else. I could pull a few strings to get him an academic or research position, or I could find an advanced studies program for him. Maybe Kamiyama would be willing to take him on as an apprentice. And after a few years, things will have died down, and the stigma of being a Death Eater's son won't be so bad. I suppose if worst comes to worst, I could ask Ali to take him on, but I can't really picture Draco as a merchant."

Lupin smiled at him tenderly. "The students wouldn't be so scared of the big bad Potions Master if they knew what a softie you really are, Sev," he said.

"Keep your voice down, Lupin!" Snape hissed, his face turning red. "Haven't you humiliated me enough today already?"

"You're so irresistible when you're being all concerned about your students," Lupin cooed into his ear. 

Snape gave Lupin a suspicious look. "The next full moon is two weeks away."

The werewolf smiled and gave him a come-hither look. "This may come as a surprise to you, Severus, but I don't need the full moon to make me desire you."

"Now?" Snape said incredulously. "In the middle of the Fair? Which was your idea, might I remind you?"

Lupin shrugged. "Dylan's obtained an apprenticeship--an entire business, in fact, and Theo has a few promising positions to choose from. So the boys are fine, and everything seems to be running smoothly. I think they can manage without us."

Well, if the werewolf was getting amorous, for whatever reason, it would probably be wise to leave before Lupin embarrassed him further, Snape decided. "Fine," Snape said. "Let's go."

Takeshi took a break when his last group of interested students left, and went to say hello to his mother and grab a snack. The Sakura's table had attracted a crowd, due in part to the fact that Haruko was handing out free samples of food. "How are things going?" Takeshi asked, grabbing a riceball and biting into it. "Is anyone interested in working for you, or are they all just hungry?"

Some of the students gave him sheepish grins, but Haruko just smiled serenely. "It doesn't matter. If nothing else, perhaps we will gain some new customers!"

"The food is really great!" Ernie Macmillan said enthusiastically with his mouth full.

Aric drifted over when he saw the young mediwizard. "How did the talks with the Quidditch recruiters go?" Takeshi asked.

Aric shrugged. "They were mostly too busy fawning over Potter to notice anyone else. One of them had actually seen me play at Durmstrang; said he'd keep me in mind the next time they were holding tryouts, but I don't really expect anything to come of it."

"Why aren't you on the Slytherin team?" Takeshi asked curiously.

Aric flushed a little. "Oh, I'm too busy with the N.E.W.T.s coming up and all," he said casually.

"And you ticked off the team captain," Patrick Parkinson snickered under his breath.

Aric glared at the younger boy, and in an attempt to diffuse the situation, Haruko asked, "I don't suppose your friend would be interested in a career in the restaurant business, Takeshi."

"I have dibs on him, Mother," Takeshi said with a grin. "I'm trying to recruit him for St. Mungo's."

"Professor Lupin told me that your restaurant was a family-run business," Aric said. "Why do you need more employees? Are you planning to expand?"

"Well, actually, it's run by my husband and I, and a few friends who came over with us from Japan," Haruko replied. "But yes, we are planning on expanding the business. We thought we might start offering take-out and delivery food, but we'll need more workers to do it."

"What method of delivery are you planning to use?" Hannah Abbott asked, looking interested. "Owls?"

Haruko shook her head. "No, there's too much chance of the food being spilled or damaged in flight."

"Then you'd have to hire delivery people," Hannah said, then giggled. "I saw a really cute Muggle film about a witch who runs a delivery service, carrying packages on her broomstick. That looked like fun."

"Maybe you could cast a charm on the food containers," Ernie added, "that would keep them from spilling."

"Muggles," Aric muttered disgustedly.

"Actually," Takeshi said pleasantly, "I think I know the film in question. It's Japanese, isn't it?"

"Oh, you've seen it, too?" Hannah asked delightedly.

"A-are you Muggle-born?" Aric stammered.

Takeshi smiled at the shocked expression on Aric's face. "No, but the Japanese wizards make more use of Muggle devices than you British wizards do. And I find Muggle literature and films to be quite interesting, particularly their take on what they think witches and wizards are like. You should be more open-minded, my friend." As Aric continued to gape at him, the mediwizard said, "By the way, Mother, have you seen Remus? I wanted to discuss some clinic business with him."

"Oh, I saw him leave a few minutes ago with Professor Snape," Haruko replied.

"In the middle of the Fair?" Takeshi asked, looking puzzled.

Haruko lowered her gaze demurely and coughed delicately. "I think that they have some personal business to attend to. It would probably be best if you did not disturb them right now."

"Oh!" Takeshi said, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson. "Ah...it's not really that important. In fact, I can discuss my business with Lukas instead. Thank you for the food, Mother."

Takeshi immediately set off in search of Lukas, with Aric following behind him. "Please tell me that you're not thinking what I think you're thinking," he said. Takeshi opened his mouth to reply, and Aric hastily interrupted, "Never mind, don't tell me; I don't want to know!"

"What was that all about?" Ernie asked, looking confused.

"Boys," a blushing Hannah said, shaking her head. "They can be so dense sometimes."

"Huh?" said Ernie.

Haruko smiled and changed the subject. "Now, I believe you two had some ideas for the delivery service..."

"Oh, yes!" Hannah said, looking greatly relieved.

*** 

The next morning, as everyone was gathering in the Great Hall for breakfast, Filch came up to the head table and said, "Amos Diggory is at the gates, and refuses to go away until he speaks with Master Bleddri. I told him to make an appointment, or at least come back after classes are over, but he raised a huge commotion; I'm surprised you couldn't hear him in the castle." The caretaker looked mightily irritated. "I don't know what the world is coming to these days; people think they can just march into Hogwarts without a by-your-leave! First that pompous idiot Terrence Nott and now--"

"Just a moment, Argus," Sprout interrupted, looking a little offended. "Mr. Diggory should not have been rude to you, but he's been going through some hard times since Cedric died. Let's show a little compassion towards him." She included Lukas in that statement by directing a pointed look his way. So far she had not spoken out against her fellow teacher, but Amos Diggory was a former Hufflepuff, and the father of a fallen hero of that House, and her sympathies seemed to be leaning towards Amos.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Filch," Lukas said, giving Sprout a quick glare. "It seems that my aunt's little chat with my uncle did not go well. I'll go talk to Amos and send him away."

He rose from his seat, and Snape stood as well, saying, "I'll go with you." 

Diggory was unlikely to go away just because his werewolf nephew told him to, and Snape thought he ought to go along just to make sure that no harm came to either Diggory or Bleddri. He didn't much care what happened to Amos Diggory, and he knew that Bleddri was more than capable of defending himself, but he also knew that if Bleddri attacked Amos, even in self-defense, Amos would likely press charges against him. And Snape knew he would never hear the end of it from his mother or Lupin if Bleddri was arrested and sent to Azkaban. Perhaps a similar thought had occurred to Bleddri, who was usually a little prickly about accepting help from other people, because he nodded and gave Snape a grateful look. Lupin, of course, got up and followed them as well. Snape glanced over at the Hufflepuff table on the way out, and saw Tristan Ames-Diggory staring after them, looking worried and unhappy.

The trio walked down to the gates, and found Amos Diggory waiting there, red-faced and fuming with anger. "You have some nerve, offering to give me my own house!" Amos shouted as soon Lukas walked into view. 

"It was only because the thought of you being thrown out on the street seemed to distress Gwen," Lukas replied in a contemptuous voice. 

"You impudent little mongrel!" Amos shouted. "What happened to your protestations of 'I wouldn't take the title if you handed it to me on a silver platter'?! I knew all along what you really wanted, that you intended to steal the inheritance--"

"It was you who stole it in the first place, Uncle," Lukas said, his voice hard and cold. Meanwhile, Snape unobtrusively positioned his hand near his wand; it was fortunate that the gates were between Amos and Bleddri right now, because it was stopping them from physically attacking each other, but spell blasts were likely to go right through the gaps between the bars. Or maybe not--the entire school was heavily warded with protective spells, the gates included, but Snape felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

"That inheritance belonged to my father," Lukas continued. "You complain that I offered to let you keep your own house? That is more generosity than you showed me, Uncle. You and my grandfather did not even leave me that much; Gwen told me how you tore down my father's house and sold the land it stood on. You took from me everything--my name, my inheritance, my home!"

"The head of a family has the right to name--or disown--an heir," Amos snarled. "My father would have disowned Cynric if my dear brother had not been blackmailing him, threatening to go public with your lycanthropy and ruin the family name! Cynric was not worthy of the title! He squandered the family wealth, risked our reputation--"

"From what I have heard," Lupin interrupted in a quiet voice, "Cynric did all these things for love of his son. You are a father; can you not put yourself in his place? What lengths would you have gone to, if Cedric--?"

"Don't you dare speak my son's name, you beast!" Amos cried, and groped in the pockets of his robe for his wand, blind with rage.

Snape's wand was out and pointed at Amos in an instant. "Calm yourself, Diggory," Snape said in a voice that was quiet but filled with menace. 

"You dare threaten me?" Amos spluttered.

"You reached for your wand first," Snape pointed out. "I can claim self-defense. Do you really want to go up against a former Death Eater in combat?"

Amos went pale, and seemed to come to his senses; his hand dropped down to his side, and Snape lowered his wand. "It's no surprise that a Death Eater would associate with werewolves," Amos said bitterly.

"These werewolves risked their lives to fight the Death Eaters," Snape said pointedly. "I don't recall seeing _you_ anywhere on the battlefield!"

Amos flushed. "Dumbledore might think you have reformed, Snape, but I don't," he retorted. "Once a Dark Wizard, always a Dark Wizard. If you switched sides at the end, it was only because you saw that your side was losing."

"As if the opinion of a coward matters to me," Snape said scornfully, and Amos's face turned even redder with both anger and shame.

"That's enough, Severus," Lupin said, giving Snape a stern look.

"I know you won't believe me," Lukas told Amos, "but I'm not doing this for the money." He took a deep breath, and forced himself to speak calmly, wanting to make his uncle understand how he felt, even though he knew that the attempt would be futile. "I'm doing this for my father. I had resigned myself to being an anonymous werewolf, but I want to be Cynric Diggory's son again. And I want to prove that a werewolf is the equal of any pureblood."

"You're right," Amos said, giving him a hateful look. "I don't believe you."

Lukas fought down the urge to growl and bare his teeth. "I hate you, and you hate me," he said, glaring back at Amos. "That will never change. But one last time, I ask you, for Gwendolyn's sake: will you call a truce and settle things with me amicably? I have agreed to name your nephew as my heir, and you know that it will only cause your sister pain to see her family feuding in court."

"If you want to spare Gwen pain," Amos said curtly, "then drop your ridiculous lawsuit! No court of law will ever name a werewolf heir to a pureblood family!"

"Morrigan De Lacy seems to think otherwise," Lukas retorted. "Like all Slytherins, she is ambitious and self-serving, and she would not take my case if she did not think she had a good chance of winning."

"And the new Minister of Magic is a known friend of werewolves," Snape added. "It was he who pushed through the equal rights bill after the war ended. You're fighting a losing battle, Diggory. If you were wise, you'd give up now, rather than suffer public humiliation." 

Snape hesitated; his first impulse was to taunt Amos and rub his face in the fact that Arthur Weasley, whom Amos had always treated genially but with a hint of condescension, was now his boss. However, that would hardly make him more inclined to accept Bleddri's offer of a settlement, so Snape attempted a rare bit of diplomacy; it was a pity that Lady Selima wasn't here to see it. "You could put a good face on things," Snape said in a conciliatory tone. "Make it seem as if you were doing it willingly, ceding the title out of integrity and generosity, welcoming your long-lost nephew back into the family fold. If nothing else, it would gain you the goodwill of your sister and the Minister." 

Unfortunately, Snape's attempt at diplomacy failed. "I promised my father that I would protect the family honor," Amos said, unmoved, "and I will keep that promise." He glared at Lukas. "Even if you turn my sister against me. She was just a little girl when Cynric died, and she idolized him, so my parents and I tried to shield her from the sordid details of his life." Lukas began to growl, and his yellow-green eyes glittered dangerously. Amos took a step back, but continued, "Clearly that was a mistake, as you've taken advantage of her naivete and love for her brother to poison her mind against me, but in time, she will see that I am doing this for the good of the family."

"Then it is war between us," Lukas snarled. "I will see you in court, Amos, and you had best hope that I never find out you had anything to do with my father's death, or a lawsuit will be the very least of your worries!"

Amos turned and ran off, making a show of turning on his heel and stomping off angrily, but Snape could see how pale and frightened his face looked. "Don't openly threaten him, Bleddri," Snape said disapprovingly. "He'll only use it against you. You have to learn to be more subtle; if you snarl at him that way in court, they'll believe Amos's claim that you're a dangerous beast."

"I know, I know," Lukas sighed, then scowled. "I suppose I'll have to let Lady Selima polish my manners and show me how to be a proper pureblood." Lupin chuckled, and Lukas snapped, "It's not funny, Remus!"

"I'm sorry," Lupin said, still laughing, "but I think it's funny how even werewolves and former Death Eaters are intimidated by Lady Selima!"

"Yes," Lukas agreed dryly. "If Voldemort wanted to rule the world, he should have recruited Selima, then he need not have bothered with all the other Death Eaters!"

Snape shuddered. "My mother, the ruler of the wizarding world...now that is truly a scary thought!" Then the three friends laughed and headed back to the castle together.

*** 

That weekend, Hufflepuff played against Ravenclaw in the second match of the season. Tristan's parents came to the match, but Amos and Helen Diggory did not. Although Tristan was hurt by his uncle's absence, and upset about the feud going on between Amos and Gwendolyn and Bleddri, he managed not to let it affect his performance on the Quidditch Pitch. In fact, the game proved a welcome distraction, and he took joy in speeding after the Snitch, letting the exhilaration temporarily wipe his worries from his mind. He flew with great daring and agility; the Snitch suddenly dived straight down and Tristan followed it without hesitation, although the Ravenclaw Seeker pulled up to avoid hitting the ground. Tristan reached out and grabbed hold of the Snitch, so close to crashing that the tip of his broom handle brushed against the ground before he managed to pull up and straighten out at the last second.

The Hufflepuff students burst into elated cheers, and the Ravenclaw Seeker came over and shook Tristan's hand. "Good game," he said, with a smile that was both rueful and respectful. "I don't know whether you're gutsy or crazy or both, but I can't deny that you deserved to win this one!" 

Tristan's parents came down from the stands, his father beaming proudly and saying, "Great job, son!" while his mother alternately hugged him and scolded him for that last risky play. 

"You could've broken your neck!" she cried. "No game is worth killing yourself over!" Then she burst into tears and hugged him again.

Even Master Bleddri came over and congratulated him, patting him on the shoulder a little awkwardly. "Good work, Tristan, but next time try not to make your mother cry, all right?"

"Yes, sir," he said, beaming up at his teacher/cousin.

Up in the stands, Snape frowned and said sourly, "Just what we needed--another child prodigy! Hufflepuff could actually be a threat this year."

"A little competition makes the game exciting, Severus," Lupin said with a smile, and kissed Snape on the cheek.

*** 

"M-Mistress," Vorcher stammered nervously. "There is a guest waiting for you in the drawing room."

Selima looked up from the financial reports she was going over, a distracted frown on her face. "Who is it, Vorcher? I wasn't expecting anyone today." She glanced up at the clock and said, "Severus should still be at school..."

"No, Mistress," Vorcher said, "it isn't Master Severus. It is Mistress Bashir."

"What?!" Selima exclaimed, dropping the reports. "My mother?"

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher replied, still looking nervous. 

From the look on Vorcher's face, Selima guessed that her mother was not in a very good mood, and she had a pretty good idea why: Amos had turned down Cyril's offer of an out-of-court settlement, and Morrigan De Lacy had just officially filed a lawsuit at the Ministry on Cyril's behalf. Gossip always spread quickly in the wizarding world. Selima sighed and took a moment to compose herself, then headed downstairs to face the music.

"Good day, Mother; what a pleasure it is to see you," Selima said in the cool, impersonal tone she used with most people, her family included. "If you had told me you were coming, I would have had Vorcher prepare some tea. Vorcher--"

Sabra Bashir interrupted Selima before she could send the house-elf down to the kitchen to make some tea. "That will not be necessary, Daughter," she said in a cold voice. "I did not come here for tea." There were still remnants of great beauty visible in her face, spoiled not so much by her gray hair and wrinkles, but by the cold look in her eyes, and the sharpness of her features. While some people grew plump with age, Sabra had grown thinner; her face and body seemed to have been pared down to sharp planes and angles, which were matched by the knife-sharp edge to her voice.

"Then what did you come here for, Mother?" Selima asked, her face still blankly polite.

"Don't play games with me, girl!" Sabra snapped. "You know quite well why I have come. It is bad enough that your son is playing house with a werewolf, without you throwing fuel on the fire by acquiring a pet werewolf of your own!"

"If you are referring to Cyril Diggory, Mother," Selima replied coolly, "I am only helping the son of an old friend win back his rightful inheritance."

"Have you gone mad?" Sabra cried. "He is a werewolf! A beast cannot head a pureblood family! What's next, are you going to let Lupin take over the Snape family?"

Selima privately thought, with a touch of ironic amusement, that Lupin had--for all practical purposes--already taken over the Snape family, with the influence he held over both Severus and Theodore. But all she said was, "Of course not; Lupin has no Snape blood. But Cyril is a pureblood, the son of the eldest son of the Diggory clan--"

"He is a werewolf--by definition, his blood cannot be pure!"

Selima shrugged. "I suppose it depends on how you look at it, Mother. Cyril's parents were both purebloods, of old and respectable lineage."

"Not quite that pure, apparently, if the curse was hidden somewhere in his bloodline!" Sabra said spitefully.

"It is a matter for the courts to decide, Mother," Selima said, her voice still cool and calm. "I cannot see how it affects you."

"Cannot see how it affects me?" Sabra asked incredulously. "You bring disgrace upon your family by associating with this beast, by backing his claim to the title!"

"Severus is the head of my family now," Selima said, with just the faintest hint of bitter satisfaction in her voice. "And Lord Snape does not seem to feel that I am bringing disgrace upon the family."

"I was talking about the Bashirs!" Sabra shouted. 

"I did my duty to the Bashir clan when I married Severin," Selima said, her voice now turning steely as well as cold--the tone of voice that always caused even her son the former Death Eater to turn pale, although Sabra's expression did not change. "I owe nothing more to them now. I am a Snape now, not a Bashir."

"Owe nothing?" Sabra cried furiously. "To the clan that gave you life? You sully our name with your actions, and I will not stand for it, even if Severus doesn't care!"

"No one can say that I have not done my duty to the clan of my birth," Selima said, still in that dangerous voice. 

Vorcher prudently retreated to the doorway, still close enough to respond promptly should his Mistress summon him, but--hopefully--out of spell range should the worst happen. The Mistress rarely did anything but give the object of her wrath a tongue-lashing (although, personally Vorcher would have preferred a real whipping to Lady Snape's verbal one), but she was terrible to behold on the rare occasions when she truly lost control of her temper. 

She had blasted a vase, a priceless (though admittedly ugly) five hundred year old Snape heirloom into smithereens when she had read in the Daily Prophet that Master Severus and the werewolf were lovers. She had also, many years ago, temporarily turned her young nephew into a toad when he had not only insulted the portrait of a Snape ancestor, but defaced it by touching it with his grubby, chocolate-smeared hands. She had left him in that form for two hours, hidden beneath an overturned vase, while his family searched the house and grounds for him. She had finally relented and changed the boy back, if only because it was clear that Master Bashir wasn't going to leave without his son, and the Mistress didn't seem to enjoy her brother's company very much. 

Mistress had told the boy that she would turn him back into a toad permanently if he ever told his parents or anyone else what she had done, and as far as Vorcher could tell, the terrified boy had believed her threat and kept his promise to remain silent, even when his father scolded him for running off and hiding. Vorcher, the only other witness to the incident, had also kept silent, of course.

"The Bashirs benefitted greatly from the marriage I made to the Snape Lord," Selima continued. "Enough so that they retained their influence and their position as the wealthiest merchants in Britain even after Severin fell from grace and retired from the Ministry. The family wealth and holdings have increased at least tenfold since I sealed our alliance with the Snapes. You yourself told me on my wedding day that I belonged now to the Snape family, not the Bashirs, and bade me serve my husband well and give unto him all due loyalty and respect. Well, I have done so. The Bashir clan sold me in marriage to a man twice my age that I barely knew--a homely, arrogant, and ill-tempered man, I might add--"

"We married you to a great Lord of the pureblood elite!" Sabra retorted. "You should be grateful to us!"

"But I did my duty without a single word of complaint," Selima continued, ignoring the interruption. "I made the best of my marriage, and learned to respect my husband and see his good points. I obeyed him even when I did not agree with him. I invested Snape funds into Bashir businesses, to the benefit of both clans. I worked to repair the damage that both Severin and Severus did to the influence and reputation of the Snape family. I secured an heir and ensured that the Snape line would not die out when my ungrateful son refused to marry and sire a child as he should. All my life, I have done my duty, to my parents, and then to my husband, without complaint. Just this once, I will do something for me. For Anya's sake, I will see her son be made head of the Diggory family."

"For what?" Sabra spat. "Some girlish childhood friendship? Have you gone mad?"

It is not madness, Mother," Selima said coolly. "And although I am doing this for friendship's sake, it is not entirely without advantage to the Snape family. If my venture is successful, then the head of an old and wealthy pureblood family will owe the Snape family a great debt."

"And you will be regarded as a fool and a traitor if you fail!" Sabra said. "And the Diggorys are not so wealthy as they once were!"

Selima shrugged. "Not as wealthy as they once were, true, but Cyril still stands to gain a respectably-sized inheritance. And I am sure he will be able to increase his fortune with the business advice I intend to give him."

Sabra gave her daughter a hateful look. "The courts will never appoint a werewolf head of a pureblood family!"

"What you do not seem to understand, Mother," Selima said with a small, cool smile, "what most of the purebloods do not yet seem to understand, is that for better or worse, the balance of power has been altered since the war ended. I think Cyril will win his case in court, because he has powerful allies: the new Minister of Magic and Albus Dumbledore both count him as a friend. The Daily Prophet hailed him and his werewolves as heroes; some of the young people are beginning to regard them as glamorous and exciting."

"You seem to be growing infatuated with werewolves yourself!" Sabra snapped.

"Not at all," Selima replied. "I do not approve of my son's choice of lovers; I would much rather he settled down and married a nice pureblood girl. But since he will not, I will make the best of the inevitable. Remus Lupin, too, has powerful connections, the famous Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, among them. Potter and Dumbledore and Weasley are the new order, Mother, and those who fail to see that will find themselves falling by the wayside."

"I think you are only trying to justify your outrageous actions," Sabra retorted. "Severin would never have let you do this if he were still alive!"

"But he is not alive," Selima replied in an even voice. "And Severus, who is now Lord Snape, is the only person who has the right to criticize my actions." She silently added, _Though I would like to see him try!_ Aloud, she said, "But by all means, feel free to take the matter up with him if you wish."

"I see now it is no surprise that Severus turned out the way he has, with a mother like you," Sabra said scornfully. "And look what has come of it--you don't even have a grandson of your own blood!"

"Blood of my blood or not, Theodore is still a better heir than your grandson!" Selima retorted in a waspish voice. "That spoiled brat can't even hold down a job given him by his own kinsman, and Ali is hardly the world's sternest taskmaster!"

"I will not stay here and be insulted any longer!" Sabra declared and left in a huff, pausing only long enough to say, "And don't come crying to me when your pureblood friends all turn their backs on you!"

"Not likely," Selima said to the empty room, then laughed, feeling almost giddy. It was strangely satisfying to finally tell her mother off, after being a dutiful daughter for so many years, although she supposed it was a bit petty of her, especially at her age. Maybe Severus was a bad influence, after all. That thought suddenly sobered her, as she wondered if Severus despised her as much as she despised her own mother. Was the way Selima's own parents had arranged her marriage to Severin, not asking for her permission or even her opinion, really any different from what she had planned for Severus? 

Her conscience stirred uneasily, a most unfamiliar feeling for a proper and practical Slytherin like Selima. She tried to assuage her guilt by telling herself that it was not the same thing; she had done her duty to her family, after all, as unpleasant as it had seemed at the time, and Severus had not. And she would have permitted Severus a little more leeway than her family had given her. If he had indicated a preference for a certain girl, she would have taken his wishes into consideration, so long as the girl was a pureblood of good family; she certainly would not have married him off to a woman twice his age, even for the sake of an alliance! In fact, after the whole scandal with the werewolf, Selima would have agreed to nearly anyone human and female!

Selima sighed. But in the end, Severus had not married, remaining stubbornly loyal to his werewolf lover. Perhaps her mother was right, and it was all her fault; perhaps she had been too soft on him when he was a child, or not soft enough. But what was done was done; it was too late to change things now, and although Selima would never admit it to anyone but herself, she secretly preferred the werewolf's company to that of her mother--or any of her other Bashir relatives, for that matter, with the possible exception of Ali. 

That spoke more of her dislike for her family, Selima told herself, than any fondness for the werewolf, who was one of the most irritating people she had ever met. Still, Lupin was her ally, and while Sabra was half-right about Selima using the "new order" of things as an excuse to justify her support of Cyril, everything she had said was true. Things had changed after the war, and would never be the same again. The pureblood nobility had become set in their ways, and were in danger of losing their power if they did not learn to adapt. And one thing Selima was good at was adapting to the situation at hand, however much she hated the need for it.

If her mother had come expressing her outrage, Selima knew that her own peers would not be far behind. She sighed again, mentally bracing herself for more catty gossip sessions over tea with Priscilla Parkinson and her ilk. Perhaps it was time for the Snape family to show off some of those important connections Selima had boasted of to Sabra. If the Minister of Magic had dinner with the Snapes, that would still some of the wagging tongues. 

And it would be even better if the Boy Who Lived showed up as well--after all, Harry Potter had publicly acknowledged Severus's role as his protector in the Daily Prophet. Perhaps she would make a party of it, and invite the Minister's and Potter's families; it could not do any harm to secure the allegiance of Potter's godparents, the heads of the Black and Blackmore clans, two of the oldest and wealthiest pureblood families in the wizarding world. Yes, Selima decided, it was time to go on the offensive. She marched off to the study to write two letters: one to Severus, telling him of her plan, and a second to Lupin, to make sure that Severus went along with it. Since Lupin claimed that he was her ally, she might as well make him earn his keep.

*** 

After a busy day of classes, Snape and Lupin found two letters waiting for them when they arrived at their dungeon quarters. Snape groaned when he saw the Snape seal on the envelopes.

"Does my mother think I have nothing better to do than dance attendance on her?!" Snape shouted in frustration as he read Lady Selima's latest missive. "The term is nearly over; I have lessons to prepare and grade, and the boys have tests to study for and projects to complete! We don't have time to go to a dinner party! Couldn't she at least wait until school lets out?"

Lupin patiently let his lover rant and rave until he ran out of steam. When Snape finally fell silent, Lupin looked up from his own letter and said, "This isn't one of her usual tea parties to check up on Theodore's progress, Severus. She made a bold move when she chose to support Lukas's claim to the Diggory title, and you were right when you said that her peers would regard her as a traitor for it. Having the support of the Minister of Magic and Harry Potter will go a long way towards helping her save face and keep the respect of her peers."

"You're right," Snape said, calming down. Then he smiled slightly, raising an eyebrow as he asked, "Which one of us is supposed to be a pureblood Lord?"

Lupin grinned at him. "I may not be one of the pureblood elite, but I've spent enough time observing them to understand how they think. Particularly since my lover is a pureblood Lord." He dropped the letter and wrapped his arms around Snape's neck.

"Well, I suppose we can spare a couple of hours for dinner one evening," Snape grudgingly conceded, wrapping his arms around Lupin's waist and pulling him closer. "But it's your job to convince the Weasleys and Potter to go along with it."

"I can be very persuasive, Severus," Lupin whispered, his lips just a fraction of an inch away from Snape's.

"I know, Lupin," Snape said, and closed that gap, pressing his lips against Lupin's. Then he pulled away and scowled. "But I don't wish you to be that 'persuasive' with anyone but me!"

"I don't think I'm Arthur's type, anyway," Lupin laughed, as they headed to the bedroom together.

*** 

Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley met up with Snape, Lupin, Blackmore, Theodore, Dylan, Harry, Ron, and Ginny at Hogwarts on the night of the dinner party. Molly fussed over her children, straightening Ron's tie and smoothing down a stray lock of Ginny's hair.

"Mum, stop fussing!" Ron complained.

"You want to make a good impression, don't you?" Mrs. Weasley scolded fretfully. 

"They look fine, Molly," Professor Blackmore told her.

Mrs. Weasley laughed, looking a little sheepish. "I know, I guess I'm a bit nervous. It's just that when I was a girl, everyone coveted an invitation to one of Lady Selima's parties. I suppose it's foolish, but it all seemed very glamorous to me back then--to dress up and mingle with all the most important people in the wizarding world. And now, after all these years, I've finally been invited to Snape Manor!"

"Believe me, you weren't missing anything," Snape muttered sourly.

"I attended a couple of those parties with my parents when I was a kid, before they disowned me," Sirius said, tugging at the collar of his dress robe. "I found them deadly boring."

"For once, Black, you and I agree on something," Snape said.

"Stop fussing, Sirius," Blackmore scolded.

"This thing chokes me," Sirius grumbled, but stopped fiddling with his collar.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "If the purpose of this party is to show support for Master Bleddri, why isn't he coming, too?"

Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable, and Blackmore explained, "It wouldn't be proper for the Minister of Magic to show such blatant favoritism towards one of the plaintiffs in an upcoming lawsuit. However, it is acceptable for him to show his support in more subtle ways, such as attending a dinner party given by one of Master Bleddri's allies. And the Minister isn't just supporting Master Bleddri; he's also supporting Lady Selima and the Snape family, who stand to lose prestige and influence by going against pureblood mores by backing a werewolf's claim to the Diggory title."

Professor Blackmore's explanation only made Harry more confused. He understood why Snape, whose lover was a werewolf, might offer his support to Master Bleddri, but he didn't really understand why Snape's mother would do so, even if Bleddri's mother had been her friend, since Draco claimed that Selima Snape was a typical pureblood snob (although he had not phrased it in precisely those words). However, Harry certainly didn't feel like asking Professor Snape about it, particularly when he was looking so grumpy.

Theodore noticed the look of confusion on Harry's face and told him, "Don't worry about it, Potter. You don't need to understand how pureblood politics work in this instance; all you have to do is show up."

"Uh...okay," Harry said, a little reluctantly. Dining with Snape's family was not really his idea of a good time, but when Lupin had asked for this favor, Harry had felt like he couldn't turn him down. Besides, Professor Blackmore had informed both Harry and Sirius in no uncertain terms that they would attend this dinner, despite some grumbling on Padfoot's part. And Ron had glumly told Harry, "If I have to go, you'd better come too and keep me company!"

They went through the Floo to Snape Manor, where an elderly house-elf led them to the dining room. Lady Selima greeted her guests politely, shaking Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's hands and saying how nice it was to see them again, under happier circumstances this time. And she complimented Mrs. Weasley on her robe, which made Mrs. Weasley smile and flush with pleasure, which in turn made Mr. Weasley smile.

"Mum bought it special for this party," Ginny whispered into Harry's ear. 

"I had no idea Mum had such a hankering to attend a party at Snape Manor," Ron muttered.

Selima greeted Sirius and Professor Blackmore politely, although she frowned a little at Bane, who was perched on the Professor's shoulder. Apparently she had not intended for Bane to be included in the invitation, but Blackmore almost never went anywhere without her familiar. Then Selima turned to Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and said, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Potter, young Mr. and Miss Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet some of Severus's students." She smiled in a charming way, that looked distinctly odd on a face that so closely resembled Snape's. "I hope my son isn't being too hard on you."

"Uh, no, ma'am," Harry replied, casting a nervous glance Snape's way, and wondered if she had just made a joke. He wondered how Lady Selima could look so much like her son and yet so different at the same time. Her features had been obscured by her veil at the funeral, but now he could see them clearly. She was indeed the same woman Harry had once glimpsed in Snape's memories during his Occlumency lessons--although of course many years older now. 

If she was Snape's mother, she must be at least in her late fifties, but she looked much younger, and was still very beautiful despite a few strands of gray scattered through her hair (still less than Lupin's), and faint lines around her eyes and mouth. She had the same black eyes as Snape's, cold and piercing, and she also had black hair like her son, but hers looked sleek and shiny while Snape's hair always seemed to look a little lank and greasy. Snape had a hint of his mother's coloring, but while her skin was a warm honey-gold, Snape's was paler, and the touch of gold only made him look sallow and jaundiced. She carried herself with much the same air of arrogance that Snape did, but she somehow managed to look graceful and dignified at the same time, while Snape only looked menacing and ill-tempered.

Speaking of which, Snape was looking rather ill-tempered at this particular moment. "Can we get on with this, Mother?" he asked impatiently. "It's near the end of term, and I have a lot of work to do, not to mention that the boys--that all the students need to study for their end-of-term tests and projects." He gave Harry and Ron a pointed look. "Some more than others."

"Mind your manners, Severus," Selima scolded, in much the same way that Mrs. Weasley scolded her brood when they misbehaved. Ron snickered, then gulped and turned pale when Snape shot a murderous look his way.

They took their seats, and Vorcher served dinner; it was a good thing that Hermione wasn't here to talk about house-elf rights. There was an uncomfortable silence at the dinner table at first, punctuated by awkward bursts of small talk; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked a little out of their element; Harry, Ron, and Ginny were intimidated by the presence of their Potions teacher; Theodore seemed a little uncomfortable about dining with the Gryffindors, although Dylan outwardly seemed at ease; and Sirius kept fussing with his collar, finally undoing the top few buttons of his robe to loosen it a little. 

But Lady Selima was as socially adept as her son was not, and managed to draw people out and keep the conversation running smoothly. She chatted with Mr. Weasley about his work at the Ministry, then engaged Mrs. Weasley on two of her favorite subjects: cooking and her children. Selima listened with all evident interest as Mrs. Weasley shared a recipe for Raspberry-Rum Trifle that she had found in Witch Weekly, although Harry couldn't picture the elegant Lady Snape cooking in the kitchen--or reading Witch Weekly, for that matter. 

Selima also inquired politely about the older Weasley boys, and listened attentively as Molly Weasley talked about how worrisome it was to have Charlie working so far away in Romania with dangerous beasts like dragons, and how nice it was that Percy had settled down with a nice girl, and that she hoped Bill would pop the question to that sweet girl Fleur soon, too.

Selima also talked with Professor Blackmore about her work at Hogwarts, and chatted pleasantly with Sirius about his work in Werewolf Support, despite the fact that Dylan had told Hermione that Lady Selima did not approve of her son's werewolf lover. Theodore and Dylan told her about the Career Fair and the apprenticeships they had been offered. Ron perked up a little and said, "So Dad, what's the deal with flying carpets? I mean, why are they illegal? I don't see what's so bad about a flying carpet when people go around riding brooms all the time. Mr. Bashir says it's a conspiracy--"

Mr. Weasley groaned, "So he's gotten to you, too!"

Lady Selima laughed gently and said, "I must apologize to you, Minister, for my cousin's persistence. This issue of the flying carpets has become something of a fixation with him, I'm afraid."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "It's not your fault, Lady Selima. And off the record, I don't really have a particularly strong objection to flying carpets. But that law has in been in place for many years, and getting the Ministry to change its mind about something is rather like pulling teeth."

"I understand, Minister," Selima assured him. "You must pick and choose your battles. It would be unwise to contend with the Ministry over such a trivial matter when you want their cooperation on more important issues--such as, for example, equal rights for non-humans."

"Exactly!" Mr. Weasley said, looking gratified. Sirius regarded Lady Selima with a bemused look on his face, while Snape merely looked sour and Lupin looked amused.

"And what are your plans for the future, Mr. Potter?" Selima asked Harry with a pleasant smile. "Surely every employer in the wizarding world must be competing for your services."

Harry flushed and said, "Well...uh...I haven't really decided yet, ma'am. I've gotten offers from some Quidditch teams, or I thought maybe I might become an Auror..."

"Yes, it is only natural that you would want to follow in your father's footsteps," Selima said, taking a sip of wine.

"Dad was an Auror?" Harry asked, startled. "Or...do you mean Sirius?"

Sirius smiled warmly at Harry, looking surprised but pleased at the thought of being referred to as Harry's "father". "James wasn't actually an Auror, Harry," he replied. "But he essentially did the work of one, fighting the Death Eaters as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He and Lily both fought bravely." Sirius blinked, looking a little teary-eyed.

"That is what I meant," Selima clarified. "I apologize if I misspoke."

Harry gave Selima a puzzled look; Snape hated James Potter, but apparently his mother didn't share the same sentiment. Or was Selima only flattering him because she thought of him as someone important, the Savior of the Wizarding World, as Snape often sarcastically referred to him? "I...I had wanted to become an Auror and fight the Death Eaters," Harry said hesitantly. "Only, there are no more Death Eaters now, so it doesn't seem so urgent..."

"There have always been Dark Wizards in this world, for as long as our kind have been in existence," Selima replied calmly. "Although one hopes, by Merlin, that we shall never again see one so strong as Voldemort. But I have no doubt that there will be a continued need for Aurors in the future, even if that need is, as you put it, not quite so urgent as it was before."

"I think I would like to become an Auror," Ginny declared.

"You're certainly on the right track," Lupin said cheerfully. "Your grades in Defense Against the Dark Arts are excellent, and so are your grades in Potions, if I'm not mistaken."

He glanced at Snape, who grudgingly said, "Miss Weasley's grades are adequate." 

Lupin grinned and winked at Ginny, saying, "That's high praise coming from Severus," and Snape scowled at him.

"And what about you, Mr. Weasley?" Selima asked Ron politely.

"Well, I dunno," Ron replied with his mouth full, then paused to chew and swallow as his mother glared at him. "If Harry's going to become an Auror, maybe I'll apply, too--if I can pass my N.E.W.T.s, that is."

"And is your ability to pass them in question?" Mrs. Weasley asked sternly.

"No, of course not, Mum!" Ron said hastily. "Or I'd like to try out for a professional Quidditch team, or Charlie said he could get me a job in Romania..." 

Mrs. Weasley heaved a long-suffering sigh, and Selima smiled sympathetically. "It's such a trial having just one son," she said as Snape glared at her. "I can't imagine what it must be like to have six to worry about."

"Tell me about it," Mrs. Weasley sighed, then proceeded to describe in detail what a trial her sons were, especially Fred and George. Ron looked so mortified that Harry couldn't help but laugh. Actually, it was a relief that Mrs. Weasley was keeping Lady Selima occupied, because it meant that Harry wasn't required to make small talk. By the time Mrs. Weasley had run out of things to say about her sons, dessert had been served, and soon afterwards, they were thanking Lady Selima for her hospitality and getting ready to leave.

"Oh, and by the way, Severus," Selima called out at the last minute.

"Yes, Mother?" Snape asked warily.

"You will come to stay for the holidays, won't you?" Selima asked casually. "You and Professor Lupin and the boys?"

Snape looked about as thrilled at the prospect as Harry would be to spend Christmas with the Dursleys. "I'm not sure, Mother. I believe the Headmaster is planning to hold a Yule Ball this year--"

"Another one?" Selima asked. "I thought it was normally held in conjunction with the Triwizard Tournament."

"There is no Tournament this year," Snape replied, "but the Headmaster feels it would be appropriate to celebrate, as the war is finally over."

"Perfectly appropriate," Selima said. "But you can stay at Snape Manor and take the Floo back to Hogwarts to attend the Ball."

"That sounds like a good plan," Lupin said cheerfully.

Snape glanced back and forth from his mother to his lover, a trapped look in his eyes. "But the Headmaster may require the services of the teachers to...er...help prepare for the Ball--"

"My, I had no idea that Dumbledore was such a slave driver," Selima said sarcastically.

"I don't believe your services are required, Severus," Lupin informed him helpfully, "except as a chaperone, the night of the Ball. Unless you'd care to join Professors Flitwick and Sprout on the decorating committee."

Snape glared at Lupin. "And perhaps Dylan has other plans," he continued. "Did the Donners want you to visit over the holidays?"

"Of course Dylan can stay with his great-uncle and aunt if he wishes," Selima interrupted. "I don't see how that would prevent the rest of you from coming to Snape Manor."

"Actually, I wanted to spend Christmas with you and Remus and Theodore, since it will be our first Christmas together as a family," Dylan said, and Snape's expression softened a little. "So I would be happy to stay at Snape Manor with you, since Lady Selima has so kindly invited us. But Aunt Goewin and Uncle Math want me to come spend a few days with them after Christmas."

"Very well," Snape sighed in a tone of resignation.

"We'll see you in a couple of weeks then," Lupin said to Selima chirpily as Snape glared at him again, and Harry bit his lip and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, exiting through the fireplace before Snape could catch him laughing.

Back at Hogwarts, Sirius said, "Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," echoing Harry's own thoughts.

"Your mother is a very charming woman, Severus," Mrs. Weasley told Snape.

"Yes," Snape said sourly, "she's very charming when she wants to be--which is generally when she's trying to impress someone among the pureblood elite. But woe betide anyone who has the misfortune to incur her wrath."

"Does that mean we're among the elite now, Dad?" Ron asked excitedly.

Snape looked even more sour than before, and snapped, "That should be obvious, Mr. Weasley! There is no higher position in the wizarding world than Minister of Magic!" He turned his gaze on Harry and added sarcastically, "Except perhaps Savior of the Wizarding World."

"Temper, temper, Severus," Lupin chided gently.

"Yes, people think your father is an important man now," Mrs. Weasley told Ron. "But don't you be letting it go to your head!"

"I have a headache," Snape said sulkily, and stomped off to the dungeon without another word. Lupin grinned and followed him after saying goodnight to Sirius, Blackmore, Harry, and the Weasleys. The Slytherin boys also said goodnight--Theodore politely if without much enthusiasm, and Dylan with his usual smooth charm--and hurried after their guardians.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley returned home, and Ginny and Ron went back to the Gryffindor dorm, but Harry went up to Blackmore's quarters with his godparents to spend a little time with Sirius before he left. Harry looked around and noted that the rooms had the same basic layout as Snape's, a small parlor with adjoining bedroom, although since Blackmore's quarters were located in one of the upper levels of the castle, there was also a window overlooking the school grounds, which Snape's dungeon quarters lacked.

"So what are your plans for the holidays, Harry?" Sirius asked heartily.

"Well, I thought I'd come stay with you at Grimmauld Place, if that's all right," Harry replied, feeling a little confused. Didn't Sirius want him to come home for Christmas?

"Oh, of course!" Sirius said. "What I meant was, what lucky young lady will you be taking to the Yule Ball?" He grinned mischievously and winked at Harry, suddenly looking like a young Marauder once again.

Harry found himself blushing. "Um, well...I took Ginny last year."

"So is there something going on between you and Ginny?" Sirius asked. "She's certainly a very pretty girl; she has spunk, too--much like Lily. Of course, she does seem to have a liking for Snape, but I suppose there's no accounting for taste..."

"Sirius," Blackmore said in a warning tone of voice.

"Well, the thing is," Harry said, still blushing, "we just went to the Ball as friends. I mean, she had just broken up with Dean back then, and I had broken up with Cho and neither of us was seeing anyone, so..." His voice trailed off.

"Well, there wasn't much time for romance, with everything that was going on last year," Blackmore said sympathetically.

Harry nodded gratefully. "Yeah, I was too busy worrying about getting killed by Voldemort to think about girls--" Sirius raised his eyebrows and gave Harry a skeptical look. "Well, mostly," Harry laughed. "I guess maybe I did think about them a little bit."

"Well, now there's plenty of time for romance!" Sirius declared. "So are you going to invite Miss Weasley to the Ball again this year, or has another young lady caught your fancy?" Harry blushed again, but remained silent. "Hmm," said Sirius thoughtfully, "your father was a one-woman kind of man, and I think you take after him, Harry."

"I want to ask Ginny to the Ball," Harry said, his face still feeling hot, and he knew it must be beet-red. "But I think she'll think I'm just asking her as a friend again."

"And you would like to be more than friends?" Sirius asked, and Harry nodded. "Do you think Ginny could think of you as more than a friend?"

"I don't know," Harry replied helplessly. "She used to have a crush on me when she first started Hogwarts, but that was just because I was famous. Now she just treats me almost like I'm one of her brothers--which includes telling me off when she thinks I'm doing something stupid!" He smiled ruefully, thinking of how the younger Ginny used to regard him with awe, but he supposed he preferred her the way she was now.

Sirius chuckled. "Well, your mum used to tell off your dad often enough when they were kids!"

Harry suddenly remembered that Blackmore had mentioned that Sirius had been quite a ladies' man in his younger days. "Hey...Sirius?" he asked hesitantly. "How can you tell if a girl really likes you or not?"

Sirius leaned back against the couch and grinned. "Kiss her," he suggested. "If she kisses you back, it means she likes you; if she slaps you, it means she doesn't."

"Oh, that's very helpful!" Blackmore said sarcastically, as Harry protested, "I can't do that! Come on, Padfoot, be serious!"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. I had a lot of girlfriends in school, but I wasn't serious about any of them."

Blackmore sighed. "I'm afraid that your godfather can't give you very good advice, Harry, because he never really had to pursue the young women at Hogwarts. For the most part, they pursued him."

Sirius smiled tenderly at his wife. "Branwen is the first, and only, woman I've ever really loved."

"Well, how did you tell Professor Blackmore that you liked her?" Harry asked desperately. "I mean, I know you got together after the final battle, but you never said exactly how it happened."

"I kissed her," Sirius said, grinning from ear to ear, "and she didn't slap me!"

"You're a big help!" Harry groaned.

"You're incorrigible," Blackmore told her husband, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. She smiled at Harry and said, "You should just be honest, Harry, and tell Ginny how you feel about her."

"But what if she doesn't feel the same way?" Harry asked. "Won't that make things weird between us?"

"It might, for a little while," Blackmore replied. "But if you care about each other enough, even just as friends, you'll work through it eventually. Your friends Ron and Hermione worked things out, didn't they?"

"You know about that?" Harry asked, startled.

"Well, the entire school was gossiping about it, thanks to the Slytherins who witnessed their argument at Madam Puddifoot's," Blackmore said, looking amused. "But yes, even before that, I could see that Mr. Weasley had feelings for Miss Granger, who in turn had feelings for Mr. Rosier. It took courage for Ron to tell Hermione how he felt, and he shouldn't regret that he did so, even if she did not feel quite the same way about him. Things were awkward between them for awhile, I'm sure, but in the end, they worked it out and their friendship is probably the stronger for it."

"Well, yeah, but--"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Mr. Potter," Blackmore said in a sterner voice. "Look at Remus and Severus, who spent almost twenty years apart because each assumed that the other one did not love him. They nearly destroyed their lives and their chance for happiness together because they were too afraid to tell each other how they felt. Live without regret, Mr. Potter. Don't look back twenty years from now and say, 'what if...?'"

"It's only a date to the Yule Ball," Harry protested weakly, although he knew it was really more than that.

Blackmore smiled and said in a lighter tone, "Come now, Harry, surely facing Miss Weasley can't be as hard as facing the Death Eaters?"

"No," he said glumly, "it's harder."

Both of his godparents laughed, although not unkindly. "Yes, Ginny Weasley certainly is terrifying!" Sirius teased, and Harry had to smile a little. "Well, Harry, if you don't want to come right out and pledge your undying love to her, I think you can let her know in more subtle ways."

"Such as?" Harry asked.

"Oh, you know," Sirius said, gesturing vaguely. "Tell her how pretty she looks, steal a flower from the greenhouse for her, suggest you go for a stroll together along the lake. If she feels the same way about you, I can almost guarantee that you'll know it pretty soon. But if it seems to make her uncomfortable and she starts making up excuses not to be alone with you, then it probably means that she just wants to be friends, and you can back off with no harm done to your pride."

"I think you should skip the 'stealing a flower from the greenhouse' part, though," Blackmore said dryly. "Unless you want Professor Sprout to give you detention. And I still think the direct approach is best."

"Well, thanks for the advice," Harry said, a bit evasively, not saying whose advice he intended to follow. Blackmore was probably right, but Harry didn't think he had enough courage to try the direct approach, and Sirius had a lot of experience with women, so he probably knew what he was talking about. Harry suddenly recalled the many times that Snape, Lupin, and Blackmore had accused Sirius of being immature, and tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. "Um...it's getting late, so I should probably head back to the dorm."

"Goodnight, dear," Blackmore said, and kissed him on the cheek. Bane croaked, looking a little jealous, the way he usually did when his mistress showed affection to anyone but him.

"Goodnight, Harry," Sirius said, giving his godson a hug. Then he winked and whispered, "Let me know how things go with Ginny, okay?"

Harry flushed again, feeling like his cheeks must be permanently stained red by now. "Okay," he said, and fled in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Sirius closed the door, chuckling and shaking his head. "Maybe he doesn't take after his dad, after all. I can't remember Prongs ever being that shy and awkward around girls."

"No, he was just loud and obnoxious," Branwen replied with a wry smile. "Personally, I prefer Harry's naivete. He hasn't had much of a childhood, Sirius. In some ways, he's had to take on the responsibilities of an adult at a very young age, and in others, he's still a child, socially behind his peers."

"I know," Sirius sighed, his smile fading, and he wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her close. "He's never really had a chance to just be a kid, the way James and I did. We can't return those lost years to him, but maybe we can make it up to him, a little. We can help him enjoy his last year at Hogwarts, and...maybe we shouldn't rush him into choosing a career. I mean, he should take his N.E.W.T.s, of course, but he doesn't have to look for a job right after graduation. He could take a year off to just enjoy himself. He could hop on Buckbeak and take a trip around the world, maybe visit Charlie in Romania." He knew that Branwen didn't really approve of students being idle and goofing off, so he added coaxingly, "It would broaden his horizons, be a learning experience for him..."

"You don't have to convince me, Siri," Branwen said with a smile, much to her husband's surprise. "Harry seems a bit unsure of his future plans. Perhaps he should take some time to get settled and decide what he really wants, rather than just taking the first opportunity that comes along, or doing what everyone expects him to--like following in his father's footsteps." 

Sirius kissed her soundly, and Branwen laughed, a wicked gleam glinting in her green eyes. "Of course, that doesn't mean that he needs to remain idle. He can continue his studies informally--Blackmore Manor has a library nearly the equal of the one at Hogwarts. He could try his hand at different things, perhaps volunteer at the clinic. Or perhaps we could arrange for him to study in Japan for a few months with Severus's friends--"

Sirius cut her off with another kiss. "Or perhaps," he suggested gently, "we could just let Harry decide what he wants to do, and if necessary, make his own mistakes and learn from them--as you and I did."

Branwen blinked, looking startled. "Why...that's actually very wise of you, my dear. It seems you have grown up, after all."

"I'm not a little boy anymore, Professor," Sirius laughed, then gave her a lascivious grin and waggled his eyebrows in a way that was much more comical than lewd. "Want me to prove to you just how much I've grown up?"

Bane croaked sullenly as the laughing couple retreated into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape and family prepare for the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Porvoras are the invention of Yuichi Kumakura in his "Jing: King of Bandits" manga.

The unrest between Gryffindor and Slytherin did not explode into outright conflict as the R.A. had hoped it would, but dwindled down into a general feeling of uneasiness, with suspicious glances cast at each other by both sides, and a few muttered insults. It caused some internal conflict within Gryffindor, as when Jack Sloper told Parvati that she was a traitor for dating a Slytherin, and she told him that he was a narrow-minded bigot and should mind his own business. And one day, a group of Gryffindor students consisting of the Slopers and their friends fell silent when Allegra walked into the common room, and Kenneth said in a loud stage whisper that they didn't want "the spy" carrying tales back to Slytherin.

"As if you know anything worth telling!" Allegra sniffed disdainfully. "Like the Slytherins care which girls you think are pretty, or what grades you got on your homework!" Then she flounced off, with her three loyal friends--Chloe, Emma, and Portia--by her side.

"Uppity little Slytherin," Jack muttered.

The Slytherins, for their part, became more wary around the Gryffindors. Blaise cautioned his sister to be careful around her housemates and to try to stay near Hermione, Harry, or the Weasleys in the Gryffindor dorm. "I don't think the troublemakers will try anything if they're around."

"I'm not afraid of them," Allegra said, tossing her hair back defiantly.

"You should be!" Blaise told her sternly. "One of them might have cast that hex on Dylan--that wasn't just a little prank, like the one they played on Portia! Dylan could have been killed!"

Allegra began to look scared then, which Blaise regretted, but it was better for her to be on her guard. He and Theodore and Dylan quietly taught her a few curses she could use to defend herself in a last resort, "just in case". "But get away as soon as you can," Dylan advised. "And scream for help." He grinned at her. "I know you can scream really loud; I could hear you cheering for me in the Quidditch stands during the game." She giggled, although she still looked more sober than usual. "But it's better to avoid trouble if you can. Don't go wandering around any empty, out-of-the way corridors alone."

"Yes, Dylan," Allegra said obediently. And since they didn't want her going anywhere alone, Dylan walked her back from the dungeon to Gryffindor Tower, as he was going to meet with Hermione, anyway.

"Was that really necessary?" Theodore asked Blaise.

"I hope not," Blaise replied. "But I'm not taking any chances with my sister's safety. I just wish we could move her from Gryffindor into Slytherin."

"Granger will look after her," Theodore said, trying to sound comforting. "And Allegra knows a lot of hexes; she's advanced beyond most of the older Gryffindors. They're hampered by their holier-than-thou refusal to learn any Dark Magic."

"But those were a couple of pretty potent hexes on Dylan's rosettes," Blaise said, frowning. "Not the sort of thing most Gryffindors mess with." And Theodore had no comforting reply for that.

Meanwhile, Dylan saw Allegra safely back to her dorm, and Hermione came out to meet him. They went for a walk, and ended up climbing to the top of the Astronomy Tower. They looked down on the castle and grounds; everything was covered with a glittering layer of snowflakes.

"It looks so beautiful, doesn't it?" Hermione said with a smile.

Dylan thought she looked beautiful, her cheeks flushed from the cold, and her long, wavy brown hair lying loose across her shoulders. He hated to spoil the moment and her good mood, but he brought up Blaise's concerns and asked her to watch over Allegra.

"Of course I will," Hermione said, "but do you really think that's necessary?"

"She's a very talented witch, but she's just a little girl," Dylan said grimly. "And she's a little too trusting; I suppose that's why she ended up in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. I'm a much more experienced mage than she is; I even know a great deal of Dark Magic, and I still nearly got killed on the Quidditch Pitch."

"Do you really think it was a Gryffindor who cast that hex?" Hermione asked unhappily.

"Would it make you feel better if it turned out to be a Slytherin?" Dylan snapped, then immediately felt guilty when he saw how hurt she looked. "Sorry, 'Mione," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her cheek, which felt cold beneath his lips, and she shivered a little, and he pulled her closer, wrapping the folds of his robe around her, although he knew that it wasn't just the chill air that was making her shiver. "I didn't mean it," he said apologetically. "I guess we're all on edge, not knowing who did it, or what they might try next."

"I know you don't want to think it's one of your housemates," Hermione said, "any more than I want to think it's one of mine." She leaned into his embrace, and Dylan felt relieved that she wasn't angry at him. "And I know that being a Gryffindor doesn't automatically make someone a good person. Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor, and he became a Death Eater and betrayed his friends."

"Well, he does seem to be the exception to the rule," Dylan admitted, and was rewarded with a small smile from Hermione. "And actually, I wouldn't mind if the culprit turned out to be Aric, because then the Professor could expel him from Hogwarts!"

Hermione laughed. "Well, I don't like Aric, either, but Professor Lupin's friend, the mediwizard, seems to like him, so maybe he's not all bad."

Dylan sighed. "I wouldn't go that far, but I don't really think that Aric did it. He hates me, but he hates Theo more, and I can't understand why he'd hex me instead of Theo, or how he could have managed to hex the ribbons in the first place. And I don't know of anyone else in Slytherin who would want to hurt me."

Hermione frowned, looking worried. "It could be a Gryffindor," she said reluctantly. "Some of us act without thinking sometimes, like Sirius. You know about the prank he played on Professor Snape, sending him to the Shrieking Shack when they were kids?"

Dylan nodded. "Yes, the Professor told me about it."

"Well, Sirius didn't really mean for Snape to get hurt or killed," Hermione continued. "But of course, that wouldn't have made Snape any less dead if Harry's dad hadn't managed to rescue him. So, maybe the person who cast the hex was just playing a stupid prank, and didn't realize how dangerous it could be." 

"It would make me feel better," Dylan said, "to know that it was just a stupid prank that got out of hand, and that whoever's behind it didn't really want to kill me. If that's all it was, hopefully the prankster has learned his lesson."

Hermione sighed, looking annoyed. "I admit, that's the kind of stupid thing a Gryffindor might do--the boys, anyway. The girls are a little more mature." Then she grinned at him. "Besides, all the girls adore you; I'd be more worried that they might hex me to get rid of the competition!"

"Oh, they haven't wasted any time pining over me!" Dylan laughed. "Parvati's already seeing Damien, and I suspect Lavender will start dating Seamus soon, if he ever gets up enough courage to actually ask her out. Even the girls in Slytherin have given up: Millicent and Miles Bletchley are apparently an item; he sends her long love letters by owl every week. Pansy hasn't found a boyfriend yet, but she's been looking over boys in all four Houses; she said now that it's all right to see people from other Houses, there are a lot more guys to choose from! And even Yvonne has been making eyes at Dietrich recently."

"Poor baby," Hermione teased. "Your fan club has deserted you!"

"Women are so fickle," Dylan sighed.

"It serves you right," Hermione said with a merciless smile. "I like you, Dylan Rosier, but sometimes you get a little full of yourself. You like being the center of attention and having everyone look at you."

"Ouch!" Dylan cried, pulling back a little and placing his hand over his heart. "Hit me where it hurts, why don't you?" Hermione giggled, and Dylan stared at her with mournful, wounded eyes. "Just because I spend more time getting dressed and fixing my hair in the morning than you do..."

"You're the most beautiful student in the school and everyone knows it," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Including you. You're a bit of a peacock, Dylan." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "But I love you anyway."

They stared at each other, rendered speechless for a moment. It was the first time either of them had actually said the words, "I love you," and Hermione seemed as startled as Dylan was by them. Apparently the words had slipped out without her intending to say them.

Well, Dylan didn't intend to let this opportunity pass. "I love you, too," he said softly, then leaned forward and kissed her. Their lips touched, lightly and hesitantly, as if they were kissing for the very first time, then the kiss slowly deepened, and Hermione seemed to melt in his arms. He suddenly felt very warm in spite of the cold winter air. 

Despite the fact that they had lived in the same house for two weeks during the summer, they had not really had a chance to spend much time alone together. Snape and Lupin had allowed them a certain amount of privacy, and they'd had a few make-out sessions in the library at Grimmauld Place, but things couldn't go too far, for fear of someone walking in on them. After a certain amount of time had passed, Lupin had usually found an excuse to come down to the library and get a book--knocking politely on the door to announce himself first, of course. 

Nor had they been able to sneak into each other's rooms after everyone had gone to bed: Hermione had shared a room with Ginny, and Dylan had shared one with Theo. They could have snuck into one of the empty rooms, of course, but Theo's nightmare had given Snape and Lupin the perfect excuse to check up on them in the middle of the night--just to make sure that Theo was all right, of course. 

In a way, Dylan had enjoyed those late-night visits, and the way Lupin would gently pull the covers up over himself and Theo, tucking them in as if they were still little boys, and the way Snape would sometimes reach down and stroke their hair in a brief, affectionate caress if he thought they were asleep. It made him feel a little embarrassed, because at sixteen, he was probably too old to want to be tucked in and kissed goodnight by his parents, but he had found it comforting after everything he had endured during the last two years--being inducted into the Death Eaters, awakening the vampiric roses with his own blood, watching Karkaroff die, fighting in the final battle and watching his mother die... After all that, a part of him wanted to be protected and comforted like a small child once again.

But the other part of him--the part that was a teenage boy with very healthy teenage desires--had found it bit a frustrating. And of course there was even less privacy at Hogwarts; Dylan envied Blaise and Theo, who had their own room and could be together anytime they wanted. He thought, with a touch of ironic humor, that the other students would probably be shocked to learn that the playboy of Hogwarts School, son of the infamous Evan Rosier, was a virgin. It wasn't as if there hadn't been opportunities, particularly with the Slytherin girls; Snape was strict in the classroom, but he didn't closely monitor the romances that went on in the dorm, so long as they were discreet about it. But while Dylan had enjoyed flirting with all the girls, there had been only one that he truly wanted, and it had been unsafe to pursue her up until now.

But she was in his arms now, her lips soft on his. Her hair smelled sweet, like wildflowers, and he wondered if it was from the shampoo she was using, then wondered why he was thinking about shampoo at a time like this. He let his hand slowly slide up her waist and across her chest; he could just barely feel the curve of her breast through her thick winter robes. She trembled in his arms, but did not pull away...

And then he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and they hastily jumped apart. A moment later, Professor Sinistra reached the top of the landing and said, "Ah, good day, Mr. Rosier, Miss Granger."

"Good day, Professor," Dylan replied, trying to regain his composure; he could see out of the corner of his eye that Hermione looked red and flustered. "It's a little early for Astronomy Class, isn't it?"

"I just wanted to make sure that the telescopes were in good working order," Sinistra replied. "There is an interesting alignment of the stars tonight that I wished to show my third-year classes. And what are you two doing outdoors on a cold winter's day?"

"Just enjoying the view, Professor," Dylan replied innocently.

"It will be even better when the stars are out," Sinistra said. "You two are welcome to join my third-years tonight if you have the time. But make sure you bundle up; you're both looking a little flushed--I think you had best go back indoors for now. You wouldn't want to catch a cold, now would you?"

"No, Professor," Dylan and Hermione murmured obediently, then ran down the stairs together. As soon as they were out of earshot of the Professor, they burst into laughter.

"Well, scratch the Astronomy Tower as a trysting place!" Dylan said ruefully.

Hermione giggled nervously, her face still red. "I'm not sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved that the Professor interrupted us!"

For a moment, Dylan didn't didn't know whether to feel hurt or amused. Then he laughed; that was typical Hermione--honest to a fault! And in truth, it made him feel better to know that she was as inexperienced as he was. He had thought she had been seeing Viktor Krum during her fourth year, but it didn't seem like things had progressed very far between them; probably no farther than things had gone between himself and Lisa Turpin. 

Feeling a little more cheerful, he slipped an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. "We can take things slowly, Hermione," he said, although his body was not in complete agreement with that statement. He took a few deep breaths and used the calming techniques he had learned in his Occlumency lessons; that helped a little. "I don't want to rush you into doing something you don't want to do."

Hermione smiled at him gratefully. "I do want to..." She hesitated and blushed most prettily. "...be with you, Dylan. Eventually. But...properly. Not sneaking around up on the Astronomy Tower or under the Quidditch stands."

"You're right," Dylan said, repressing a sigh. "It should be something special--because you're special to me, Hermione." The words rolled off his tongue easily, partly because of his long-practiced charm, which had become second nature, but also because he sincerely meant them, even though he was a little disappointed about having their tryst cut short.

Hermione's warm smile made up for that disappointment. "I'm so glad you understand, Dylan."

"So, Miss Granger," Dylan said lightly, "will you grant me the honor of escorting you to the Yule Ball?"

"Of course, Mr. Rosier," Hermione said, with mock-dignity, pausing to curtsy to him, then giggled. "I wasn't really planning on going with anyone else."

Dylan bowed to her in a courtly manner. "A gentleman never takes a lady for granted. It is only right and proper to ask you formally." Then he grinned rakishly. "I wouldn't want some other guy stealing you from under my nose!" Parvati and Lavender had passed on some gossip to him, about a quarrel Ron and Hermione had once had over Hermione going to the Ball with Krum because Ron had failed to ask her until the last minute. Dylan didn't intend to make the same mistake.

Hermione smiled at him, looking very pleased. "A lady hates to be taken for granted. I would be honored to accompany you to the Ball. But for now...it's almost time for dinner; would you escort me to the Great Hall, Mr. Rosier?"

"It would be an honor, my lady," Dylan said, and gallantly held out his arm. She took it, and they strolled arm-in-arm through the castle and entered the Great Hall together. Every eye in the room was upon them, and they were both aware of it, but Hermione did not chide him for his vanity. She merely gave him an amused little smile and played along, holding her head up high, walking by his side as gracefully and regally as any pureblood lady. He stared at her admiringly, his silver-gray eyes filled with both laughter and awe, and felt even more in love with her then than he had before.

*** 

Lupin was disturbed by the undercurrent of suspicion and animosity running beneath the outward facade of peace among the students, while Snape was still troubled by the fact that they had never found the person responsible for the hex that had nearly killed Dylan. However, when no further incidents arose, they relaxed their guard a little and became distracted, as everyone else was, by the holiday flurry--there were tests to be given, papers to be graded, not to mention Christmas shopping to be done, and not enough time to do it in.

Lupin was sitting at the desk in Snape's quarters, bent over a piece of parchment, a look of intense concentration on his face. Meanwhile, Snape was testing his students' Hair-Raising Potions on Kiseki. He splashed a few drops of potion from one vial on the rat, and Kiseki's fur grew out long and luxurious, until he resembled a walking toupee. "Hmm, very good," Snape murmured, and marked down the student's grade in his notebook. He sprinkled a few more drops from the next vial on the hairy rat, and suddenly all Kiseki's fur fell out, leaving him pink and denuded. Snape shook his head and muttered, "Looks like we may have another Longbottom on our hands," and gleefully marked down a "0" next to the student's name--a Gryffindor, of course.

Kiseki let out a loud, indignant squeal, causing Lupin to look up. "For Merlin's sake, Severus, stop torturing my rat!" he scolded.

Snape shrugged and flicked his wand at the rat, who was quickly restored to normal. "I need to test the potions on someone," he pointed out, "and I thought it would be more humane than testing them on the students."

"Come over here for a moment and be helpful," Lupin ordered, sounding a bit distracted. "What should we get your mother for Christmas?"

"What does my mother have to do with your DADA assignments?" Snape asked. "Aren't you grading papers?"

"No, silly," Lupin said, gnawing on the end of his quill. "I'm writing out a Christmas shopping list."

"End of term is coming up soon," Snape said impatiently. "Don't you have more important things to be tending to?"

"But this IS important, Severus!" Lupin protested. "There's only one scheduled Hogsmeade day before school lets out and we go to Snape Manor--"

"Which is your fault for accepting Lady Selima's invitation," Snape pointed out.

"And that's just not enough to time get all our shopping done!" Lupin continued. "We need to at least place some orders ahead of time, and maybe pop in to Diagon Alley next weekend. I thought we'd get some new robes for Dylan--he's a bit of clotheshorse, and he needs something to wear to the Yule Ball, anyway. We should order those ahead of time, since they'll need to be custom-made. And I thought we should get Lukas a set of robes, too--he'll need some new clothing for his court appearance, anyway. I'm not sure what to get Theo; we already got him a broom for his birthday. Of course, he's so delighted to be your heir that I don't think he really cares what we give him, but I would like it to be something special. I was working on a carving for him, but I'm not sure I'll finish on time; things have been so hectic lately."

"Lupin--"

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully, his expression brightening. "Since he took up carving this summer, we could get him a set of carving tools. And maybe an advanced text on runes, since he seems interested in pursuing that as a career."

"Lupin--"

"But I have no idea what to get for your mother," Lupin said, looking worried. "Something expensive and tasteful, of course, but the purebloods seem to have rather widely varied ideas about what they consider tasteful. What do you think?"

"LUPIN!" Snape shouted, and his lover finally stopped babbling. "I can't answer your question if you won't let me speak!"

"Sorry, Severus," Lupin said with a sheepish smile. "I guess I'm a little nervous. I want to make a good impression on your mother. So what do you think she'd like?"

"For me to a marry a pureblood woman," Snape replied sarcastically.

"Come on, Sev!" Lupin protested. "Be serious!"

"Well, how would I know, Lupin?" Snape sighed. "We've only just started speaking to each other again after being estranged for years."

"Well, what did you used to get her for Christmas when you were still living at home?" Lupin asked.

Snape shrugged. "An expensive scarf or piece of jewelry or bottle of perfume. It all seemed a little pointless, since I was buying my parents gifts with the allowance they gave me. I hated my parents, Lupin, so I didn't waste a lot of time worrying over whether they'd like my presents or not. And they always gave me the same thing for Christmas every year: new robes and a pouch of Galleons. Gift-giving at Snape Manor has always been very impersonal." Lupin sighed dispiritedly, and Snape regarded his lover curiously. "Why are you getting so worked up about this, Remus? You know my mother isn't going to approve of anything you give her."

Lupin sighed and laid down his quill. "I know Lady Selima barely tolerates me, and I know we have a lot of work to do here at school, and I shouldn't waste so much time fussing over a shopping list. But...it's our first Christmas together as a family, Severus. I want it to be special."

Snape looked at the wistful, anxious expression on his lover's face and felt his irritation vanish. He bent down and slipped his arms around Lupin and murmured, "Don't worry, Remus; everything will be fine." Lupin still looked a little worried, so Snape sighed and considered Lupin's original question seriously. "Well...my mother is fond of fine art," he finally said. "She was the one who initially invested in that art gallery that the Snapes own; it was sort of a pet project of hers."

"What sort of art?" Lupin asked, perking up a little.

"All sorts," Snape replied. "Paintings, tapestries, sculptures...but nothing too gaudy. She likes things that are simple, tasteful, and elegant." He thought further. "The Snape crest is a serpent, similar to Slytherin's. A sculpture or figurine of a snake or dragon would be in keeping with the decor at Snape Manor. Something Asian, perhaps..."

"Ah, yes!" Lupin said, his eyes lighting up. "I saw several items like that in one of the shops we visited while we were staying in Japan with Professor Kamiyama! I'll write and ask him for help. Which reminds me--we need to get the Kamiyamas something for Christmas."

"I'll order a jumbo box of assorted sweets from Honeydukes," Snape promised.

"Thank you, love," Lupin said, giving him a kiss. Then he picked up his quill and began composing a letter to Kamiyama.

Snape chuckled and let him be. If the werewolf was still neglecting his students' papers, well, at least he was happy. And then it suddenly struck Snape that Christmas was only a little more than two weeks away, and he hadn't decided what to get Lupin yet. He usually got Lupin robes for Christmas, but the werewolf was no longer impoverished and now had a respectable wardrobe. No, it should be something different, something special...something that showed Remus just how much he meant to Snape. It was their first Christmas together as a family, after all. Snape fretted over the matter for a few minutes, forgetting about the potions that he was supposed to be grading. Then suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he ran into the bedroom to compose a letter of his own.

*** 

Meanwhile, Aric walked into the Slytherin common room and found most of his housemates gathered around the couch. They were lining up to hand Pansy Parkinson coins while Millicent Bulstrode dutifully recorded the amount in a notebook.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked.

"We're collecting money for Professor Lupin's Christmas present," Millicent informed him briskly. "How much shall I put you down for?"

"Count me out," Aric sneered. "I'm not buying anything for the werewolf!"

"But I want the present to be from everyone in Slytherin!" Pansy pouted. "I thought it would be nice to show the Professor that we think of him as one of us now."

"It can be from everyone but me," Aric said firmly.

"It's only because of Lupin's soft heart that Snape hasn't had you expelled yet, you know," Draco told him in a cold voice.

"So what?" Aric retorted, feeling a brief flicker of guilt, and then resentment towards Lupin for making him feel guilty in the first place. "I didn't ask him to do me any favors!"

"Aw, come on, Aric," Yvonne wheedled, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "Just a token amount, say a Sickle or two, so that we can say it's from everyone."

"Are you all in on this?" Aric asked disgustedly.

"YES!" his housemates shouted emphatically.

"Shhh!" Pansy hissed. "If you make that much noise, the Professors will come to see what's going on, and this is supposed to be a surprise."

"I think you've all gone mad," Aric said, "and I don't want any part of it." He turned on his heel to walk away, but Serafina rose to her feet and pulled two gold coins out of her pocket.

"If you won't contribute anything," she threatened, "I'll put in these two Galleons in your name. And I'll make sure to tell Professor Lupin that you contributed them personally."

"Then I'll tell him you're lying!" Aric snarled. "You don't want to hurt your precious werewolf's feelings, do you?"

"It won't hurt his feelings," Serafina informed Aric calmly, "because I'll tell the Professor that you only said that because you're embarrassed that word got out. I'll tell him that you secretly enjoyed working at the werewolf clinic, and that you're grateful for all the times he defended you to Snape. I'll tell him that you only pretend to be mean to him to make Theodore mad, and because your family would disapprove of you befriending a werewolf." Aric stared at her, a look of horror filling his eyes, and she smiled at him maliciously. "And you know that Professor Lupin will believe it, because he always wants to believe the best of everyone. Or...you could hand over the money voluntarily, and we'll just sign the card 'from everyone in Slytherin House,' and I won't mention your name specifically."

Aric spluttered furiously, knowing he was trapped. "That's blackmail!" he shouted.

"That's the Slytherin way, Dietrich," Serafina replied serenely.

Aric reached into his pockets and flung down a handful of coins, without bothering to count them or see what they were. "There!" he snapped. "Now leave me alone!" Then he ran out of the room.

The remaining Slytherins stared at Serafina in awe. "That...that was magnificent, Avery!" Draco exclaimed.

"The most impressive bit of manipulation I've ever seen," Theodore agreed.

Dylan grinned mischievously. "Even better than the way Lupin manipulates Snape!"

Serafina smiled proudly, and the Slytherins burst into laughter. Pansy knelt down to pick up the coins on the floor. "Three Sickles and six Knuts," she said. "Bit of a cheapskate, but at least we can say everyone in Slytherin pitched in. Okay, let's get on with it! We've got to get the money collected and send in the order as soon as possible if we want the present to be ready before school lets out!"

*** 

Hagrid proudly told his seventh-year Gryffindor-Slytherin class, "I have somethin' special for yeh today."

"That sounds ominous," Draco muttered under his breath. "I wonder what it is this time--venomous snakes? Fire-breathing dragons?"

Harry and Ron glared at him, and Hermione hissed, "Shh!"

"Now be very quiet," Hagrid told the class. "Yeh don' want ter scare these little fellers." He led them behind his hut to a small enclosure that contained several small creatures frolicking in and around a small pool of water. They looked like round little furballs about the size of a Quaffle, with tiny, clawed hands and feet; pointed, fox-like ears; a thin, curly tail topped off with a tuft of fur that resembled a pompom; and large, round dark eyes that stared up at the students soulfully, as vulnerable and appealing as those of a puppy in a pet store begging to be chosen and taken home.

"Ooh," sighed Lavender. "They're so cute!"

"For once Hagrid chose nice animals," Parvati said, sounding surprised. "What are they?"

Hagrid very slowly and carefully picked up one of the creatures in his huge hands, and cradled it gently. "This is a Porvora," he said. "They're very rare."

"Porvora," Hermione said, frowning thoughtfully. "That sounds familiar; I'm sure I've read about it somewhere..."

"Porvora?" Draco cried, and the furball in Hagrid's hands started to quiver.

"Shhh!" Hagrid said, sounding alarmed, and gently stroked the creature, crooning, "There, there, it's all right."

Draco lowered his voice to a whisper, but still sounded frantic. "Porvoras are living bombs! How could you bring those things to Hogwarts? Are you trying to kill us?"

"Bombs?" Lavender said, her eyes going wide.

"I knew it was too good to be true," Parvati groaned.

"SHHH!!" Draco and Hagrid said in unison.

"Now I remember where I read about them," Hermione whispered. "Their blood is an ingredient in certain explosive potions. It's very difficult to gather, though, since the Porvora will explode if it feels frightened or threatened. Or if it gets too close to fire; it's highly flammable. Or an explosion can be triggered by a very strong vibration--"

"We get the picture, Hermione!" Ron hissed, looking very pale.

"For obvious reasons," Hermione finished, "they're very rare."

"I know," Hagrid whispered proudly. "I can't believe I was lucky enough ter get my hands on a whole family of 'em!"

"Does Dumbledore know you have these?" Aric whispered. "What if you blow up the castle?"

"That's why I'm keepin' 'em out here, away from the castle," Hagrid told him cheerfully.

"Oh great," Theodore grumbled softly, "so you'll just blow US up!"

"Nobody's goin' ter get blown up if yeh handle 'em properly," Hagrid replied. "Now, yeh handle 'em very gentle-like, and don' make any sudden moves or loud noises that might scare 'em. They usually live near water." He pointed at the pool. "That helps lower the chances of an accidental explosion."

Ron was making small whimpering noises, and Hermione said reproachfully, "Shh! You'll scare the Porvoras!"

"Yeh put earplugs in their ears at night," Hagrid continued, "so that they don' explode if some noise startles 'em and wakes 'em up suddenly. And--" He pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and handed it to the Porvora he was holding, who immediately began nibbling on it. "Their favorite food is chocolate. But it has to be sweet milk chocolate, not bitter chocolate, or--"

"They might explode," Draco finished wearily, a glum expression of resignation on his face.

"Come on now," Hagrid said cheerfully. "All of yeh step up and take turns feedin' 'em."

"Do we have to?" Ron moaned softly.

The students reluctantly lined up and accepted the chocolate bars that Hagrid gave them, and fed the Porvoras. Lavender and Parvati very gingerly stroked the animals they were feeding, and the Porvoras made soft little purring noises.

"They really are cute," Parvati whispered. "It's too bad that they're...well..."

"Living bombs?" Draco finished sarcastically.

Theodore went to his father's quarters afterschool and indignantly reported that Hagrid was making them handle living bombs, but Snape's reaction was not quite what he had hoped for.

"Porvoras, hmm?" Snape murmured, an acquisitive gleam in his eyes. "They're extremely rare. I wonder if Hagrid would let me gather some of their blood?"

"Father!" Theodore protested in a wounded tone. "Aren't you worried about Hagrid blowing up your entire seventh-year Slytherin class, not to mention your heir?!"

"I notice you aren't worried about the Gryffindors," Lupin chuckled.

"Let McGonagall worry about them," Theodore said sulkily.

"Yes, yes," Snape said in a distracted tone. "I'll speak to the Headmaster about it. But I'd like to get some of their blood before Dumbledore makes Hagrid send them away."

"How do you gather Porvora blood, anyway?" Dylan asked curiously.

"Oh, it's not really that difficult," Snape replied. "Just feed it some chocolate laced with sleeping potion, take the blood while it's asleep, then treat the wound with a little healing salve so it won't feel any pain when it wakes up. The Porvora wakes up none the worse for wear, and doesn't even realize what's happened, so long as you don't take too much blood. Most of the explosive potion recipes only call for a small amount of the blood--a few drops, usually. It's very potent. Of course, you have to be very careful to store it properly so that it doesn't explode..."

"And why would you need to make an explosive potion, Severus?" Lupin asked.

Snape shrugged. "I don't need one now, but you never know when it might come in handy, Lupin. They can be used for benevolent purposes, you know--to excavate a mine or clear a rockfall, for instance." He looked over at his sulking son. "Just bear with it for a little while, Theodore; the term's almost over, anyway. As long as you handle the creatures gently and don't make any loud noises, it should be fine. I'll prepare some extra batches of healing potion and salve, just in case."

"That's very reassuring," Theodore muttered under his breath, and glared at Dylan, who fell over on the couch, laughing.

*** 

Lukas felt that his Physical Defense classes were progressing well--maybe a little too well. Some of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students seemed to take a little too much pleasure in beating on one another, but perhaps it was better for them to work out their frustration in the classroom than outside of it. At least there had been no further "pranks" played on either side since the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. However, for today's exercise, he thought it would be best not to tempt fate, and paired up the students within their own Houses.

"Today," he announced, "we will try something new. You've done well in your physical combat exercises, but since you are wizards, it is far more likely that you will face magical rather than physical attacks."

"So what's the point of this class?" Aric grumbled under his breath.

"The point, Mr. Dietrich," Lukas said sternly, "is that you need to be able to fight even if you are disarmed of your wand. Your opponent will think you helpless, but you will not be, and that might give you enough of an advantage to gain the upper hand. So I will pair you off, and you will take turns attacking one another--one with magic, and one without. Stunning and blocking spells only, please--nothing dangerous, or you will spend what's left of the term in detention."

Lukas noticed that Daphne Greengrass seemed especially skittish and jumpy today; more so than usual, and he wondered what was wrong. He paired her off with Blaise, who was unusually gentle and patient for a Slytherin. She was able to dodge his spell, although she failed to disarm him of his wand, and when they switched places, he neatly sidestepped her spell, and knocked her wand out of her hand, but gently. Lukas suspected the boy was holding back a little, which normally he would not have approved of, but Miss Greengrass seemed to require a more delicate touch than the other students, so he let it slide. He could step things up after she acquired a little more self-confidence. In the meantime, Blaise seemed to be handling her well; he picked up the dropped wand and offered it to her with a friendly smile, and she tentatively smiled back.

There was an uneven number of Slytherins, so he sparred with Aric for a couple of rounds, but it wasn't really a fair contest, with Lukas's werewolf reflexes, so he began rotating the Slytherins, having them switch off partners. They seemed to be having fun; Pansy shouted triumphantly when she was able to stun Goyle, who just grinned good-naturedly when he was released from the spell. "Hah!" Draco said with satisfaction when he was able to lunge forward and knock Theodore's wand out of his hand before he could get his spell off.

Theodore rubbed his hand and gave him an only slightly grudging nod of respect. "Not bad, Malfoy," he said with a smile, "but you'll scandalize your bloodline, engaging in physical combat."

Draco just grinned and handed Theodore's wand back to him. "The Snapes are creating quite a scandal, themselves!" he said, and both boys laughed. 

Daphne seemed marginally less tense, although her offensive abilities were still far behind those of her classmates. She was actually quick and nimble on her feet, and good at dodging, but no good at attacking, her blows light and ineffective. As much as their ingrained pureblood arrogance annoyed him at times, Lukas felt a certain affinity towards the Slytherins, because they tended to be predators by nature, most often with the sly, calculating temperament of the serpent that was their House crest. Aric actually had a bit of wolfish nature in him, which Lukas found ironically amusing. 

But Daphne made him think not so much of a predator, but a spooked, frightened rabbit, which puzzled him. For one thing, he wondered how a rabbit had ended up in Slytherin, when she would have been more at home in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. And for another, he saw no reason for her fear. Her housemates were not particularly friendly to her, but neither were they hostile; for the most part, they simply ignored her, which seemed to be what she wanted.

Still, she seemed to have settled down a little, so he let the Slytherins continue rotating partners, and eventually she came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Lukas had turned his back on the Slytherins for a moment to dispell the Impediment Curse that Dean had hit Neville with, so he did not see how pale Daphne's face went when Draco raised his wand. He did, however, hear her scream, and turned around in time to see black ropes shooting out of Draco's wand and binding themselves around Daphne as she fell to the floor, screaming and struggling hysterically.

"Didn't I say stunning or blocking spells only, Malfoy?" Lukas asked irritably.

"It's just a binding spell," Draco protested. "It's purely defensive. Jeez, Greengrass, there's no need to get so worked up about it! Finite Incantatum!" The ropes vanished, and Draco leaned down to give her a hand up.

Still blind with fear, Daphne didn't see that Draco was trying to help her, and when his hand brushed against her arm, she reacted instinctively and lashed out, striking him square in the nose with her palm. Draco let out a howl of pain and fell back on his rump, clapping his hands over his wounded nose.

"Hmm," Lukas murmured to himself, raising his eyebrows. "Pretty good reflexes. Maybe she just needs a sufficient spur of fear in order to attack effectively."

"Ow!" Draco wailed, as thin streams of blood trickled between his fingers. "I thing you broge my node!"

"What?" Goyle asked, scratching his head.

"'I think you broke my nose,'" Theodore helpfully translated.

Daphne blinked, seeming to come to her senses, and her eyes focused on the wounded Slytherin boy, then went wide with horror. "I--I'm s-sorry!" she stammered, then burst into tears and ran out of the room.

"What just happened here?" Lukas demanded of his class. The Gryffindors looked startled, but the Slytherins looked positively shocked, their jaws hanging open in disbelief.

"G-Greengrass hit M-Malfoy," Pansy stuttered.

"Yes, I can see that," Lukas replied sarcastically. "But her reaction seems a bit excessive. Accidents do happen from time to time in this class, and Draco's not the first person to suffer a bloody nose."

Which set Draco off again. "My node!" he wailed.

"It's not fatal," Lukas told him unsympathetically. "Mr. Snape, take him to the hospital wing."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, looking a little amused, and led Draco out of the classroom.

"I can't believe she did that," Pansy said, still looking stunned.

"She's such a mouse," Millicent said. "Who would have thought she had it in her?"

Since he didn't seem to be getting any useful responses out of them, Lukas dismissed the class early and went to the dungeon to see if the Slytherin Head of House could shed some light on the matter.

*** 

"Well, at least we got out of class early," Pansy said as they filed out of the room.

"Guess we'd better go check on Draco," Crabbe said to Goyle, who nodded.

"Wait a minute!" Hermione cried. "Shouldn't someone make sure Daphne is all right?"

The Slytherins all stared blankly at her. "It was Draco got hit in the nose, not Greengrass," Goyle pointed out in a puzzled voice.

"I mean that she seemed very upset," Hermione said impatiently. "She ran out of the room in tears! You're her friends and housemates--shouldn't you be concerned about her?"

The Slytherins stared at each other. "She's a housemate, but she's not really our friend," Millicent said with a shrug. "We don't hang out together outside of class or anything."

"She's not really in the same social circle," Pansy added.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked in a disgusted voice, and the girls blushed, looking a little ashamed themselves.

"Daphne kind of keeps to herself," Blaise said in a placating tone, although he looked a little guilty as well. "She's probably just worried that Draco will be mad at her. I'll go talk to him, and make sure he doesn't take it out on her. It was an accident, after all, and I'm sure he'll calm down once Madam Pomfrey heals him."

"Malfoy's no threat now, anyway," Aric said contemptuously. "He can't sic his daddy on anyone anymore."

"Oh, stuff it, Dietrich!" Crabbe told him. 

"Never mind him," Blaise said. "Let's go check on Draco."

Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise went off in the direction of the hospital wing, while Aric, Pansy, and Millicent headed to the Slytherin dorm.

"You're such a git, Dietrich," Millicent said.

"Yeah, like you haven't thought Malfoy was full of himself at times?" Aric retorted.

"Well, the Slytherins don't seem too concerned about Daphne," Hermione said disapprovingly. "So you'd better go check on her, Ron."

"Me?" Ron protested. "Why me?"

"You know her better than the rest of us," Hermione pointed out logically. "She's been tutoring you afterschool."

"We only talk about plants," Ron argued. "It's not like we're friends or anything!"

"Besides, weren't you supposed to have a tutoring session after class today, anyway?" Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah, but I doubt she'll show up for it," Ron said dubiously.

"Well, go check," Hermione ordered. "Besides, she spends most of her free time in the greenhouses, anyway."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"I pay attention to what's going on around me," Hermione replied, in a slightly patronizing tone.

"Then why don't you go comfort her, if you know so much?" Ron grumbled.

"Oh, just go, Ron!" Hermione ordered impatiently.

"It's probably just what Blaise said," Harry told his friend. "You know how all the Slytherins used to be scared of Malfoy. Maybe it's just habit, you know, like the way I jump when Snape gives me the evil eye, even though I know he's not really a Death Eater now. Just go tell her that Zabini's going to calm Malfoy down."

"Okay," Ron sighed. "Will you two come with me?"

"She's kind of shy," Hermione said. "I think she might feel intimidated if all three of us are there. She's used to seeing you, Ron; I think it's best if you go alone." She gave him another impatient look when he hesitated. "It's not like there's anything to be scared of!"

"I'm not scared of her!" Ron said indignantly. 

"Then what are you waiting for?" Hermione demanded. Harry just shrugged and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Fine," Ron sighed, and headed to the greenhouse.

*** 

Snape's final class of the day was exiting the room when Lukas reached the dungeon. "Severus?" he said. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh no," Snape sighed wearily. "What have my Slytherins done now?"

"It's Miss Greengrass," Lukas said.

Snape looked puzzled. "Miss Greengrass has never caused any trouble before; she's the meekest of my Slytherins."

Lukas explained what had happened in his class. "The whole thing doesn't make any sense; why on earth is she so jumpy? I know that people used to fear the Malfoys, but the other Slytherins don't seem to feel intimidated by Draco anymore. And how did such a meek girl ever wind up in Slytherin, anyway?" Lukas frowned. "She's always skittish, but she seemed more jumpy than usual today..."

Snape frowned in thought for a few moments, then comprehension filled his black eyes. "Ah," he said softly. "I think I know what the problem is. It's a very long story, Bleddri, that starts before the first war and the rise of the Death Eaters..."

*** 

Ron found Daphne in the greenhouse where they usually met for their tutoring sessions, kneeling on the ground weeping between rows of fragrant flowers. "Daphne?" he said softly, crouching down beside her.

She looked up at him and swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm s-sorry Ron," she sniffled. "I don't think I can tutor you today."

"It's okay," Ron replied. "My Mimbulus plant is doing a lot better, and I think I've got all those 'wort' herbs down pat. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I'm okay," Daphne said, still weeping.

"You don't look okay," Ron said skeptically, then grinned. "Punching Malfoy in the nose is not a big deal--I've wanted to do it lots of times myself!" Daphne started crying harder, and Ron said in alarm, "It was just a joke! Listen, if you're scared of Malfoy, don't be. Everyone knows what happened was an accident, and Zabini said he'd talk to Malfoy, make sure he doesn't give you a hard time about it. Besides, I know you lot used to be scared of Malfoy, but he can't really do anything to you now that is father is dead. If Malfoy gets out of line, let me know, and I'll take care of him!" Then Ron abruptly fell silent, wondering if he had really just offered to defend a Slytherin girl. Well, he supposed that Daphne was okay for a Slytherin...she didn't seem to be stuck-up like most of them were. 

Daphne seemed just as surprised by Ron's statement as he was, startled enough to actually stop crying, which was a relief, although she didn't seem to be especially reassured by his words. Attempting to lighten the mood, Ron laughed--although it came out sounding a bit nervous--and said, "Or better yet, we'll tell Lupin, and he'll have Snape make Malfoy behave himself! According to Hermione, Lupin has Snape wrapped around his little finger--but don't tell Snape I said that, okay?"

That actually won a small smile from Daphne. "Okay," she said in a soft voice, then began wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. Ron fished around in his pockets for a handkerchief, but came up with only a couple of Knuts, a piece of toffee that was somewhat squashed, a crumpled homework assignment that had come back with a less-than-satisfactory grade, and a stray chess piece he had found in the common room--but no handkerchief. His mum had told her children that they should always carry a clean handkerchief, and for once he wished he'd followed her advice.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I'd offer you a handkerchief if I had one. Guess you wouldn't want to blow your nose on my homework--although with the grade I got, that's all it's good for. Um...you could use my tie, I guess; it's okay, I've got extras."

Daphne giggled. "No, that's okay, Ron, but thank you very much." She gave her face one last swipe with her sleeve. "I'm okay now, really."

"So...what happened back there?" Ron asked hesitantly. "Why are you so scared of Malfoy?" She hesitated, and Ron's voice sharpened as he asked, "Has he done something to you?"

But Daphne shook her head and replied, "No, Draco's never done anything to me. He barely notices me, really. I'm...beneath his notice."

"So what's the problem?" Ron asked, feeling confused.

Daphne bit her lip and hesitated for a long time. At first he thought that she wasn't going to answer him, but she finally replied, "I've always been afraid of Draco and the other students who come from Death Eater families, because the Death Eaters killed my older brother exactly seventeen years ago today."

"What?!" Ron exclaimed. "But...you're a Slytherin! Was your brother a Slytherin, too?"

"Yes, but not all Slytherins supported the Death Eaters," Daphne replied, then sighed. "It's a very long story; do you really want to hear it?"

"Yes," Ron said. His curiosity was piqued; he knew that not all Slytherins were Death Eaters, but most of them had seemed to support, or at least failed to oppose Voldemort. And he was curious to know why Daphne had wanted to enter Slytherin if she was so afraid of the Death Eaters. Well, perhaps the Sorting Hat had put her in Slytherin against her will, but both Harry and Hermione said that they had asked the Hat to put them in Gryffindor, although the Hermione could also have gone into Ravenclaw, and the Hat had wanted to put Harry in Slytherin. From what Allegra had said about her own Sorting, it seemed that students often argued with the Hat about what House they should go into, and the Hat usually acceded to their wishes.

"The trouble all started during my grandmother's time," Daphne said. "When she was a young woman, just a year or two older than me, she became pregnant and refused to name the father, not even when her parents threatened to disown her. It caused quite a scandal, and people began spreading rumors that her mysterious lover might be a Muggle-born or a half-blood; Grandmother never confirmed or denied those rumors. In the end, my great-grandparents didn't disown her, because they had no other heirs, but from that day forward, our blood purity was in question, and our standing in society started to decline. My father suffered a lot of taunts and insults from his housemates in Slytherin when he went to Hogwarts. By the time my brother went to Hogwarts, things had died down a little, although people occasionally sneered at him behind his back. But he was handsome and charming--according to my parents, anyway; I never really knew him, of course--and he was fairly popular at school.

"By the time he graduated, the Death Eaters were openly at war with the wizarding world. My family wasn't important enough to be recruited by the Death Eaters; partly because we're not wealthy or powerful like the Malfoys, but probably also because of the rumors of our tainted blood. My family tried to stay out of the war; they didn't want to see people murdered, but they were afraid of what the Death Eaters might do if they supported Dumbledore--that would have been an instant death sentence. The Death Eaters hated the Muggle-born, but they hated purebloods who were 'traitors' even more. Most of the lesser Slytherin families were neutral during the war, you know--like the Pierces and the Zabinis. They were just as scared of the Death Eaters as anyone else."

"I didn't know that," Ron said, feeling a little surprised. 

"Well, it's true," Daphne said. "But most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, so people assumed that all Slytherins were Death Eaters, or at least Death Eater supporters."

"So...what happened to your brother?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"It was near the end of the war, when both sides were getting desperate," Daphne said. "Some of the Death Eaters came to my brother and asked him to join them. Well, maybe 'ask' is the wrong word--they told him to prove that his blood was pure by joining them in ridding the world of Mudbloods and half-breeds. He refused, so they killed him." Daphne's eyes filled with tears. 

"So that's why you were so upset today?" Ron asked softly. "Because it's the anniversary of his death?"

"I never really knew him," Daphne said wistfully. "I mean, I was just a baby, so I don't remember him. But I almost feel like I do, because my parents told me so much about him, and I have lots of pictures of him." She tugged at a chain around her neck, and fished out a gold locket that had been tucked out of sight beneath her shirt and robes. She opened the locket, revealing a photo of a handsome young man with red hair who was holding a red-haired baby in his arms. "That's me and my brother, Gabriel," Daphne said. "He was supposed to be the heir to the Greengrass family, not me."

"I'm sorry," Ron said awkwardly.

Daphne closed the locket and slipped it beneath her shirt again. "My family was terrified that the Death Eaters would come back and kill the rest of us. Maybe they would have, eventually, if You-Know-Who hadn't been defeated. That's why I've always been scared of Malfoy and his gang, even though they never did anything to me. That's why my parents pulled me out of school last year, after the second prison break at Azkaban. I wasn't really sick; they just didn't want me at Hogwarts, in Slytherin House, while the Death Eaters were loose."

"Then why on earth did you become a Slytherin in the first place?" Ron asked. "Couldn't you have asked the Hat to put you in another House?"

"The Hat didn't want to put me in Slytherin," Daphne told him. "It said I should be a Hufflepuff. But everyone in my family has always been a Slytherin. All those insults that my dad had to put up with as a kid really bothered him. So it was important to him that we become Slytherins, to prove that our blood was pure."

"But Tom Riddle--You Know Who--was a half-blood," Ron protested, "and he was a Slytherin!"

"Yes, I read that in the Daily Prophet, after the war ended," Daphne said. "It's still hard to believe. Maybe he was, but at the time, no one believed that someone with Muggle blood would ever be admitted into Slytherin. After all, it was Salazar Slytherin himself who said that only purebloods should be taught magic."

"It must have been awful, living in that House and being scared all the time," Ron said sympathetically.

"It wasn't so bad at first, back when everyone thought You-Know-Who was dead," Daphne said. "I was quiet and tried not to attract attention to myself, and everyone pretty much left me alone. I didn't really have any friends, but no one bothered me, either. Then I started getting nervous, with all those strange things happening at school, with Professor Quirrell trying to kill Harry, and the Chamber of Secrets opening. And then me and my family got really scared when the Dark Mark was cast at the Quidditch World Cup, and it seemed like the Dark Lord really had come back."

"But now he's dead," Ron said gently. "For good, this time. I promise; I saw it happen."

"I guess, after all these years, it's hard to believe that I'm really safe," Daphne said quietly. "I mean, people thought he was dead before. And Draco and his friends are still here even though their dads are dead or in prison."

"I never thought I'd say this," Ron said, "but I think Draco is okay. I mean, I still think he's an obnoxious git--" Daphne smiled, just the slightest bit. "--but I don't think he's a Death Eater. And Dumbledore and Lupin and Blackmore all seem to think he's okay. I might suspect Lupin of being a little soft, but Blackmore--" Ron shuddered. "I don't think she'd hesitate to turn Malfoy into a toad if she suspected him of being a Death Eater."

Daphne's smile grew a little wider. "I guess you're right. I don't think a Death Eater would have saved Dylan's life at the Quidditch match, come to think of it, especially since he turned out to be a spy like Snape." She shook her head. "It's still hard to believe that Snape wasn't really a Death Eater."

"Same here," Ron agreed. "But Hermione swears she knew he was okay all along, and she never lets us forget it!"

"Why did Hermione think he was okay?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Well, actually she did suspect him at first, too," Ron said. "But then we found out that Dumbledore trusted him, and she figured that Dumbledore couldn't be wrong." Ron shrugged. "I don't know; I figure everyone can be wrong once in awhile, no matter how smart they are, but Hermione was convinced. And I think she actually liked Potions class, even though Snape was always mean to her. But Snape always hands out lots of homework, and Hermione just loves homework!" Daphne laughed, and Ron grinned. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"I do feel a lot better now," Daphne said with a shy smile. "Thank you. It's been hard, not being able to talk about this with anyone. It's especially hard around Christmas; it's supposed to be a happy time of year, but my family always feels a little sad because it makes them think of Gabriel."

Ron suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable. "Uh...yeah, no problem. Are you gonna be okay now? I mean, if you're still worried about how Malfoy will act, maybe you could talk to Lupin or something--"

"I'm still a little nervous about facing Draco," Daphne admitted, "but I think I'll be okay. I'll apologize to him, and hopefully he won't be too mad."

"Listen, if he tries to shove you around, just punch him in the nose again!" Ron said firmly.

Daphne laughed again, then said in a more serious voice, "I can handle being shoved around, or being teased and called names. What I was really scared of was the thought of the Death Eaters or their allies coming after me and my family. But I'm not so scared anymore. Thanks again, Ron."

Ron felt a little weird about comforting a Slytherin girl, but on the other hand, it felt kind of nice to have helped someone. He'd been able to help someone, even if it was just by lending a friendly ear--not famous Harry Potter or brainy Hermione, but himself, plain old Ron Weasley. It felt good. "No problem," he said again.

"We could still have our tutoring session if you like," Daphne said hesitantly.

"Um...okay," Ron said, pulling out his Herbology text and settling more comfortably on the ground next to her. "I guess I could do with more studying; Mum will kill me if I flunk Herbology." He looked down at the scattered items he had pulled out while searching for a handkerchief, and began putting them back in his pockets. "Er...would you like a toffee?"

Daphne smiled and accepted the piece of candy.

*** 

"So the Death Eaters murdered her brother?" Lukas asked.

"Yes," Snape replied, then smiled bitterly. "People tend to lump in all the Slytherin families together and assume that they were all Death Eater sympathizers, but the truth is that a good many of them lived in fear during the war. They didn't really want the Dark Lord to win, but at the time, it seemed likely that he would, so they didn't dare side against him. My parents were among those who sat on the fence, as Lucius used to call it."

"I would call them cowards," Lukas said, "except that I did the same thing. I couldn't see the point of defending the wizarding world that treated us like outcasts. It wasn't until the Death Eaters directly threatened my pack that I realized there could be no neutral parties in this war."

Snape nodded. "I suppose I should have kept a closer on eye on Miss Greengrass, but she never caused any trouble, and the other Slytherins left her alone and didn't seem to be harassing her. She's so quiet that you tend to forget she's there sometimes."

"Hmm," Lukas said. "Perhaps she needs my Defense lessons more than the other students do."

"Well, she's not in any danger now," Snape pointed out. "I'll check in at the dorm later to make sure that Mr. Malfoy doesn't seem to be carrying a grudge."

"All right," Lukas said, then grinned wolfishly. "Perhaps we'll make a warrior of Miss Greengrass yet; it really was a splendid hit, even if it was completely by accident!"

Snape couldn't help but smile a little. "I'm almost sorry that I missed it. But Miss Greengrass is lucky that Draco is no longer the little Death-Eater-in-waiting that he used to be."

Still, he expected Draco to be in a bit of a snit, so he and Lupin made one of their semi-regular visits to the dorm that night, bearing a platter of Christmas cookies. He tagged along in his usual grumpy manner, pretending that the whole thing was Lupin's idea. But to his surprise, Daphne seemed reasonably calm, although she still glanced over in Draco's direction warily every now and then as she nibbled on her cookie. And Draco seemed to be dealing with the whole incident fairly well himself, despite some gentle ribbing from his housemates.

"No harm done, I suppose," Draco said, rubbing his nose, when Snape asked him if he was all right. "Madam Pomfrey did a good job healing me."

"The first thing he did was check his reflection in the mirror to make sure his nose was still on straight!" Dylan teased. "And I thought I was the vain one!"

"A crooked nose might give you character!" Damien laughed.

"That's enough, guys," Blaise said with a smile. "It's no big deal; it's a class in combat, after all--people are bound to get hurt every now and then. There was the time that Ginny Weasley hit Dylan in the stomach--"

"That really hurt!" Dylan groaned.

"And Goyle gave me a black eye once," Blaise continued.

"I said I was sorry!" Goyle protested.

"I broke my nails once," Yvonne announced dramatically, "and right after I'd just had a manicure, too!"

That led to everyone comparing injuries they'd received in Physical Defense class, and they all seemed to forget about Draco's bloody nose. Lupin smiled at Snape, and Snape allowed one corner of his mouth to curve up slightly in acknowledgment. He leaned back against the couch and began reading the book he'd brought with him; apparently there had been nothing to worry about after all.

*** 

"Say, Lavender, wait up!" Seamus called as they were hurrying down the hall between classes one day.

"I'll be late for Potions class!" she protested, but came to a halt. "Well, what is it?" she asked, trying for a casual tone of voice, trying not to look too expectant or eager.

"Well, um...uh..." Seamus stammered as Parvati and the other girls watched. He hadn't wanted to do this in front of an audience, but the girls never seemed to go anywhere alone! "I was just wondering if you'd...um...maybe like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Lavender said with a smile.

"Does that mean 'yes'?" Seamus asked hopefully.

"Yes!" Lavender laughed.

Seamus grinned in relief, and Damien came running down the hall, calling, "Parvati!" He sank down on one knee in front of her, held out a single long-stemmed red rose, and said, "My lady, would you do me the honor of consenting to be my date to the Yule Ball?"

Parvati accepted the rose, sniffed at it, smiled delightedly, and replied, "Of course."

Damien took her hand and kissed her fingertips as she giggled. "Then you have just made me the happiest man in the world!" he declared dramatically. 

"This is all very touching," Ginny said in a dry voice, "but we're going to get detention if we're late to Snape's class." 

Snape's sixth-year Advanced Potions students ran laughing down the hall, and Seamus sighed and shook his head. "That Slytherin makes the rest of us look bad in comparison! I wonder if he's been taking lessons from Rosier?"

"Maybe we should take lessons from Rosier," Harry said, only half-joking. "I wonder if Pierce stole that rose from the greenhouse?" Maybe Sirius was right, after all...

"Then he'd better hope that Professor Sprout doesn't find out about it!" Seamus laughed. "So...do you have a date to the Ball yet, Harry?"

"Not yet," he replied. "I was going to ask Ginny, but I haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Better not wait too long," Ron warned him. "Remember what happened to me in fourth year!"

"I hear there are a lot of guys who would like to ask Ginny out," Seamus added.

"Really?" Harry asked, looking alarmed.

"Better hurry up, Potter," Seamus said with a grin; it was easy for him to joke about it now that he'd finally asked Lavender.

"I've just been, you know, waiting for the right moment," Harry said. "I wanted to catch her alone, not ask her in front of the entire school."

"Girls seem to travel in packs," Seamus sighed. "I swear they don't go anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom!"

"Yeah, that's true," Ron mused. "Have you ever noticed that they always go to the bathroom in pairs? What's up with that?"

But Harry finally did find a quiet moment, after Quidditch practice that afternoon. He asked Ginny to help him put away the equipment, and Seamus and Ron winked at him and made themselves scarce.

"The guys could have helped instead of running off like that," Ginny grumbled. "Still, I suppose Ron needs the extra study time. But he'd better really be studying and not goofing off playing cards or something!"

"Say, Ginny?" Harry asked hesitantly. 

"Yes, Harry?" she asked distractedly as they stowed away the case containing the Quaffle and Bludgers.

"You look really nice today," he blurted out, attempting to follow Sirius's advice.

"I do?" Ginny asked, startled, then blushed a little. "I'm all sweaty from practice."

That was true, and it was also true that her hair was disheveled from exertion and the wind. But it didn't make her look any less pretty. Harry suddenly realized that he thought she looked beautiful while playing, with her hair streaming out behind her as she chased after the Quaffle, and her face full of intensity and determination. It had started snowing towards the end of practice, and there were little clumps of snow melting in her hair; he had to repress the urge to reach out and brush them away. "Well, you do," Harry said, his face turning even redder than Ginny's. "Look nice, I mean."

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny said, still looking startled, but sounding pleased as well. Harry hesitated, thinking that he should probably ask her to the Ball now, but wondering how he should go about it. Should he just ask casually, the way Seamus had, or should he make a big production of it, the way Damien had? Well, for one thing, he didn't have a rose on him, and for another, he'd probably look stupid...

While he was mentally waffling, Ginny interrupted his thoughts by saying, "Harry?"

"Huh?" he asked, too preoccupied to come up with a more intelligent response.

"Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Harry stared at her in shock, and Ginny laughed at the expression on his face. "Well," she said playfully, "it was beginning to look like you weren't ever going to get around to asking me yourself, so..."

"I was!" he protested. "I was just working up to it!" Then he laughed, suddenly relieved that his problem had been solved, if in a rather unexpected way. "Sure, I'd love to go with you, Ginny."

"Great!" she said, smiling widely and blushing again. "Well, I'll see you later, Harry!" Then she ran out of the equipment room.

"Wait a minute," Harry said to the empty room. "Was she asking me as a friend or a girlfriend?" She had seemed pleased by his compliment, but she had run out of the room, not lingering behind after he'd agreed to go the Ball with her. Sirius said that if a girl avoided being alone with you, it was a sign that she just wanted to be friends. Then he shrugged and grinned. Well, at least they were going to the Ball together; he supposed they could figure out the rest of it later.

*** 

As Snape's seventh-year Advanced Potions class ended the next day, the students lingered behind in the hallway outside the classroom talking.

"So who are you two going to the Ball with?" Parvati asked Millicent and Pansy.

"Miles is coming to escort me to the Ball," Millicent said smugly. "Dumbledore is allowing alumni to attend."

"Ooh, you'll be the envy of all the girls!" Lavender squealed. "An older man and a professional Quidditch player!"

"No, I think Granger will be the envy of all the girls," Millicent said with a sly smile, and Hermione laughed good-naturedly.

"What about you, Pansy?" Parvati asked.

"I don't have a date yet," Pansy admitted.

"Well, Doherty doesn't have a date yet," Millicent said, "if you don't mind going with a younger man. Or maybe I could see if Miles could get one of his teammates to escort you--"

Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had also lingered behind after class, suddenly looked alarmed, and took a deep breath and marched up to the cluster of gossiping girls. "Excuse me," he said. "I--I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Ball with me, Pansy."

Pansy's jaw dropped, and not just the Slytherins, but all the students stared at him in shock. "He's crazy!" Susan Bones exclaimed softly. "No Slytherin would ever go out with a Muggle-born!"

Hannah looked just as shocked, but she said uncertainly, "Dylan would."

Pansy stared at him in stunned silence for so long that Justin started to turn away, saying, "Never mind; forget I--"

"Yes!" Pansy suddenly shouted.

Now it was Justin's turn to look shocked. "What?"

"Yes, I will go to the Ball with you," Pansy said firmly.

A relieved smile spread across Justin's face. "That's great," he said. "Um...what color dress will you be wearing?"

"I don't know," Pansy replied. "I haven't bought one yet. Why do you ask?"

"Because I wanted to get you a corsage," Justin replied, "and I wanted to make sure that it matched your dress." He blushed a little and said shyly, "That red dress you wore last year was really pretty."

Pansy flushed with pleasure, but she said, "Oh, but I couldn't wear the same dress to the Ball two years in row."

"Too bad," Justin said wistfully.

"She'll wear the red dress," Parvati declared, and when Pansy opened her mouth to protest, added, "we'll make it over--add some embroidery and beading, maybe alter the skirt. It'll look like new, trust me!"

Pansy closed her mouth, and Justin said cheerfully, "Great! Then I'll get roses for the corsage. See you later, Pansy."

"See you," Pansy said, and the Hufflepuffs walked off. 

"You're going to the Ball with Finch-Fletchley?!" Millicent exclaimed. "But he's a Muggle-born! Your parents will have a fit! Your grandmother will have kittens!"

"Oh, so what?" Pansy said flippantly, tossing her hair back. "What are they going to do, disown me?" Her voice turned just a little bitter. "It doesn't matter if they do, because Patrick is the heir, and he'll inherit everything. I'm just the girl, so I'm not important."

"But it might ruin your chances of making a good marriage later," Millicent argued.

Pansy shrugged. "I don't really like any of the boys that my family thinks are good candidates, anyway," she said. "Justin's handsome, and he's nice, and he must like me a lot if he was willing to risk humiliation by asking me out in front of everyone."

"He's got guts," Theodore said, looking a little bemused, "to ask a Slytherin out."

"I never thought Hufflepuffs were brave," Pansy said thoughtfully, "but he did come to help out in the field hospital during the final battle. And he didn't run when the Death Eaters attacked; he stayed and helped the rest of us fight them off."

"Do you really like him that much?" Millicent asked. "To risk getting disowned over him?"

"I don't really know him that well," Pansy admitted. "I'm not saying I want to marry him. But I'm tired of being a good little pureblood daughter. I don't want to marry some guy I don't like just because he's rich and my family thinks he would be a good catch." She held her head up high, her eyes gleaming defiantly. "I can earn a living for myself if I have to. If that werewolf girl, Kyra, can make her own way in the world, so can I! My grades are good enough to be a curse-breaker; I could apply to work at Gringotts, or maybe I'll go work for Ali Bashir and travel around the world. You know, I don't know why more women don't head pureblood families--like the Blackmores or the Donners."

The students slowly began walking down the hall to their next class, still excitedly discussing Pansy's date and the possibility of her being disowned. There was a short break between classes, and Snape, who had overheard everything, went to his office to meet Lupin.

Snape was still shaking his head when Lupin walked into the room. "What's wrong, Severus?"

"My Slytherins have been corrupted," Snape said, and explained what had happened.

Lupin burst out laughing. "Good for Pansy! I admit, I never expected that of her, but I guess I underestimated her!"

Snape scowled at him. "Easy for you to laugh. It isn't you who will have to listen to the Parkinsons screaming in outrage, demanding to know how I could have let such a thing happen. And Priscilla's bound to tell my mother about it, and then I'll hear about it again from Lady Selima..."

Lupin chuckled, "I'm sorry, Severus, but it's not your responsibility to tell the students who they can or can't date."  "Tell that to the Parkinsons," Snape said sourly. "It's all your fault, you know. And the werewolf's. And Blackmore's. And--"

Lupin cut him off with a kiss. "We only have ten minutes left before class starts. Let's argue about this later, shall we?"

Fifteen minutes later, Lupin fastened up his robes, saying, "We'll be late for class, Severus."

"They won't start without us, Lupin," Snape said, looking much calmer now. He gave Lupin a quick kiss on the lips and turned to leave.

"By the way, Sev?" Lupin called.

"Yes, Lupin?"

Lupin smiled at him, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "Will you be my date to the Ball?"

Snape gave him a disgusted look. "Teachers don't have 'dates,' Lupin. We're there to be chaperones, not to have a good time."

"Well, I plan to have a good time," Lupin informed him. "And I want you to be my date."

"It's not like I'll be going with anyone else, Lupin," Snape said sourly.

"Does that mean 'yes'?" Lupin asked.

Snape heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "If you must be so childish about it, yes, I'll be your 'date'." He added in a voice heavy with sarcasm, "Unless you'd care to take Bleddri."

"Thank you, Sev," Lupin said, beaming at Snape happily, then hugged him tightly. "I know it's a silly little thing, but it made me sad that we couldn't openly 'date' when we were students. So I'm happy that I can be your date to the Ball now."

Snape's expression softened, and he wrapped his arms around Lupin, pressing his lips against Lupin's silky hair. Then he disentangled himself, cleared his throat, and said gruffly, "That's enough of that, Lupin. We're already late for class."

Lupin gave him one last kiss, then hastily exited through the fireplace. "Silly werewolf," Snape grumbled to himself as he headed back to the Potions classroom, but there was an unusually tender look in his black eyes.

*** 

"Are you crazy?" Ernie Macmillan asked his housemate later in the dorm that evening. "Asking out a Slytherin? Weren't you afraid she'd laugh in your face?"

"A little," Justin admitted. "Well, okay--a lot. But she didn't laugh in my face." He grinned. "She said yes!"

Susan frowned. "But the Slytherins have called you nasty names like 'Mudblood'."

"I never liked Pansy until the end of last school year," Justin said. "Although I did think she looked really gorgeous in that red dress at the Yule Ball." He grinned sheepishly as his housemates stared at him in shock. "But there was no point in mooning over a Slytherin girl, especially one as stuck-up as Pansy used to be. She never would have given a Muggle-born like me a second look. But...she's different now. She changed, after the war--a lot of the Slytherins did. She and Millicent came to work in the field hospital when the Death Eaters attacked the school. They were scared; they didn't really want to do it, but they came along to protect Lavender and Parvati. 

"I always thought of Slytherins as sneaky, but I thought that was a brave and loyal thing to do--as loyal as a Hufflepuff, even. She worked hard, and didn't complain about getting blood on her robes when she helped treat the patients--this is the same girl who worries about breaking her nails or getting sweaty in Physical Defense class. And when the Death Eaters attacked the hospital, she fought alongside the rest of us. I think that's when I started to think of her differently. She's a lot different than she used to be. She's a lot nicer, not as snobbish. Isn't it obvious? The Slytherins all love Professor Lupin now, when they used to sneer at him back when he first started teaching here."

Susan said nothing, and sat there lost in thought, wondering if she and the R.A. were wrong about the Slytherins, after all.

Tristan scowled and asked, "What if she's just setting you up? Maybe she's going to stand you up, or make fun of you at the Ball. That's the sort of prank a Slytherin would find funny."

"She's not like that," Justin said, quietly but firmly. Tristan opened his mouth to argue further, but Justin cut him off. "I'm willing to take the risk. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

Zacharias Smith was frowning a little; he didn't entirely approve of his friend dating a Slytherin, either. But he could see that Justin's mind was made up, so he tried to lighten the mood by slapping Tristan on the back and joking, "You'll understand when you get older, Tristan--guys are always willing to risk making fools of themselves over pretty girls!" Tristan continued to scowl, but said nothing more.

*** 

Slytherin House was abuzz with gossip that evening, with everyone talking about Pansy and Justin going to the Ball together. But Draco was strangely distracted, and didn't seem to care that his former sort-of girlfriend was now seeing a Muggle-born Hufflepuff. He stood in one corner of the common room, his hands in his pockets, fidgeting nervously and shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. Finally he went over to where Serafina was sitting alone, studying beside the fireplace.

"Avery?" he asked.

"Yes?" Serafina replied, without looking up from her book.

"WouldyouliketogototheBallwithme?" Draco mumbled.

"What?" Serafina asked, looking up.

"WouldyouliketogototheBallwithme?"

"Draco," Serafina said irritably. "Will you stop mumbling? I can't understand a word you're saying."

"I said, would you like to go the Ball with me?!" Draco shouted, then turned bright red as everyone in the room turned to stare at him.

"Ah...um...ah..." Serafina stuttered, stunned into speechlessness.

Pansy hastened over to her side. "Yes, she'd love to," she answered firmly on Serafina's behalf.

"But--" Serafina started to protest.

"Great!" Draco said, sounding relieved. "Glad that's settled! Well, talk to you later, Avery!" Then he ran out of the room before she could contradict Pansy.

"Hmm," Millicent said thoughtfully as she joined Pansy and Serafina. "Never thought she was Draco's type, but they have been spending a lot of time together recently..."

"What did you do that for?" Serafina demanded of Pansy. "I don't want to go to the Ball!"

"Well, don't you like Draco?" Pansy asked in a reasonable voice.

Serafina's pale face flushed slightly. "Well, sure," she said hesitantly. "We're...friends, sort of. But--"

"So you don't want to hurt Draco's feelings, do you?" Millicent purred.

"But...but..." Serafina stammered. "I hate balls and parties! I'm no good at dancing and dressing up and stuff like that!"

"Oh, we can take care of that!" Pansy said cheerfully, grabbing Serafina's hands and hauling her to her feet.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"I'm going to have Parvati make you over, the way she made over me and Millicent for the Ball last year," Pansy told her.

"I don't want to be made over!" Serafina protested, as Pansy took her by one arm and Millicent took hold of the other. "I don't want anyone curling my hair or sticking me in lace and ruffles!"

"Parvati has better taste than that," Millicent assured her. "She won't make you wear ruffles."

"I said I don't want to be made over!" Serafina yelled as the two girls hauled her towards the door. "Let go of me! I'll hex you if you don't let go of me!" But it was an empty threat, as the other two girls had a firm grip on her arms and she was unable to reach her wand.

"It's for your own good, Avery," Pansy told her. "Don't worry, you'll be beautiful when Parvati is done with you."

"I think you and Draco will make a sweet couple," Millicent added.

"I don't _want_ to be beautiful! And we're not a couple!"

The other Slytherins stared at each other as Pansy and Millicent dragged Serafina out of the dorm, still protesting. "Well," Blaise said, after a long silence. "I'm sure glad I'm not a girl!"

Pansy and Millicent dragged their victim to Gryffindor Tower, and called out to Parvati and Lavender. Serafina had given up struggling, but glared at her two housemates and said, "You two are so dead when I get hold of my wand."

"Feisty," Millicent said with a grin.

"Good," Pansy said, grinning back. "She'll keep Draco on his toes."

"Why are you doing this?" Serafina demanded. "What do you care whether I go to the Ball with Draco or not?"

Pansy shrugged. "I feel sort of bad that my family made me dump him. He's not really a bad guy, just a little full of himself."

The picture of the Fat Lady swung aside, and Jack Sloper glared at them. "What's all the racket out here? Don't you belong in Slytherin?"

"Oh, get out of the way, Sloper," Parvati said, rudely shoving him aside. "They came to see me and Lavender."

"You ought to move in with the Slytherins, already," Jack grumbled.

Parvati and Lavender pushed their way past him and joined the other girls out in the hall. "So what's up?" Parvati asked.

"Avery's been invited to the Ball," Pansy replied. 

Lavender raised her eyebrows. "Really? By who?"

"Draco," Millicent answered.

"Oh," Parvati said, "I didn't know you two were seeing each other."

"We're just friends," Serafina grumbled, but she blushed a little.

"We want to make her look nice for the Ball," Pansy said. "But as you can see, she needs a little work." She tugged gently on a lock of Serafina's limp, mousy-brown hair, and Serafina glared at her.

"I see," Parvati said, looking Serafina over carefully. "Hold on a sec while I get a few things." She ran back into the dorm, and emerged carrying her bookbag. "Okay, let's go to the Incantations workshop. I'd invite you into the dorm, but Sloper and his stupid friends would make a big fuss about it."

They trooped down to the workshop together, Serafina following a little sullenly, but no longer needing to be manhandled. "I still think this is dumb," she complained as she took a seat on a stool in the workroom.

"You said back in Slytherin that you didn't want to be beautiful," Pansy said curiously. "But who wouldn't want to be beautiful?"

"It's not wise to attract too much attention to yourself when you live with Death Eaters," Serafina replied quietly.

A look of horror filled Pansy's eyes. "Did your father...or the others...did they ever...?"

Serafina shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It was just wise not to stand out too much. Lucius Malfoy and some of the others tried to stand out and curry favor with the Dark Lord, but that wasn't really a smart thing to do. If you stand out, you might be the first one to be rewarded when things go well, but you'll also be the first one to punished when things go wrong."

There was an awkward silence, then Lavender said, "Well, you don't have to worry about the Death Eaters anymore. Wouldn't you like to look pretty for Draco?" 

Serafina flushed. "Isn't it better if a boy likes you for yourself, and not just because you're pretty?"

The other girls frowned, as if such a thought had never occurred to them. "Well, of course," Parvati finally said. "If Draco asked you out, that must mean he likes you the way you are. But when you like someone, you want to look nice for them. And this is a special occasion; it's not like you're dressing up just to go to Potions class or something."

"I guarantee Draco will be dressing up for you," Pansy said with a giggle. "He's a little vain; he always makes sure to wear expensive new robes for dances and parties, and I've seen him preening in the mirror more than once. Come to think of it, maybe that's why he was so concerned about his nose getting broken in Physical Defense class--he didn't want to look ugly for the Ball!"

"I hate dressing up," Serafina said sulkily. "And anyway, I can't afford a fancy dress."

There was another awkward silence; they all knew that most of the Avery's money had been taken by the Ministry and that Serafina's mother was working at The Three Broomsticks to support them now. "It doesn't have to be something expensive," Parvati finally said. "In fact, I think something simple would suit you better."

"And I know you're not totally broke," Millicent pointed out. "Your mother sent you a package last week; didn't she send you some spending money for Christmas? You gave us two Galleons for Lupin's present." 

"Yeah, but I'd rather spend it on Lupin than on something stupid like a new robe," Serafina replied. Then she added reluctantly, "I still have some money left. Not a lot."

"I know your mum would be happy if you went to the Ball," Pansy said slyly.

"Yeah, I know," Serafina said glumly.

"Well, then," Parvati said briskly. "Why don't we get started? Hmm, your hair is so fine that it looks limp at this length. Maybe if we cut it--"

"You can make me over, but I refuse to cut my hair!" Serafina said firmly. "And if you try it, I'll make you break out in warts!"

"So," Parvati said with a smile, "you do have some feminine vanity after all!" Serafina's face turned crimson. "Okay," Parvati said agreeably. "We won't cut it, but maybe if we braid it..." Serafina squirmed restlessly as Parvati worked on her hair. "Oh, this is so much fun!" Parvati said happily. 

"I'm not your doll, you know," Serafina said grumpily. "Ow! You're pulling my hair!"

"Sit still!" Parvati scolded. "I can't help it with you squirming around like that!" She tied the bulk of Serafina's hair back into one long, thick braid, and framed each side of Serafina's face with several thin braids. "These would look better with beads on the ends of them," Parvati mused. "Purple ones, I think, to match your eyes. You know, you really have beautiful eyes, Serafina. I don't think I've ever seen anyone with that particular shade before." She took a makeup kit out of her bookbag and began applying cosmetics as Serafina protested. "Oh, stop grumbling," Parvati said. "I'm not going to cake it on. Just a little kohl, to enhance your eyes, and maybe a little blush." She stepped back and frowned thoughtfully, then cast an Illusion spell on Serafina's robes, turning them into a deep shade of violet to match her eyes.

"Wow!" the other girls gasped, and their eyes widened. Serafina frowned, looking anxious.

"One last thing," Parvati said, and loosened the main braid. "That's just to give it a little wave and volume. It'll look better if you leave it on longer, though. You should wear it braided all day, and then loosen it just before the Ball." She pulled a mirror out of her bag and held it up. "Okay, you can look now."

For a moment, Serafina did not recognize her reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at her was a stranger, surely too lovely to be herself. The texture of the just-unbraided hair made it look less limp, and the thin braids that remained seemed to frame and call attention to her heart-shaped face. It was only when she saw the violet eyes--enhanced and somehow made more dramatic by the kohl, as Parvati had promised--that she realized it really was her reflection. The girl in the mirror was...pretty.

"Wow!" gushed Lavender, as Parvati regarded her creation smugly. "You look beautiful, Serafina!"

"It's true," Pansy agreed. "I can't believe what a difference a little makeup, a new hairstyle, and a different-colored robe make!"

"The violet robe really makes your eyes stand out," Millicent added.

"Draco's eyes will pop out when he sees you," Parvati said with great satisfaction.

"I don't care if his eyes pop out or not," Serafina said, but she looked just the tiniest bit pleased.

"And we need to order you a new robe," Parvati added, reaching into her bookbag again. "I have a catalog here from Gladrags Wizardwear. We could place an order and pick it up on Hogsmeade day. It doesn't have to be something expensive."

"I don't think they carry that color of violet in their normal off-the-rack robes," Pansy said. "You would have to special-order it, and that's expensive."

"We can get a plain robe in a light color and enchant it," Parvati said dismissively. 

"I'm not going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, am I?" Serafina asked dryly.

Parvati smiled at her. "We could use a simple Illusion spell, like the one I just used--Master Satoshi's class has come in pretty handy, after all. Or if you're worried about it wearing off, we could ask one of the Professors to help us a put a permanent enchantment on it. Or we could just dye it. That woad stuff we were using in Potions class used to be used as a dye, after all. It certainly turns our hands blue enough! I'm sure there must be something we could add to it to make a purple dye; we could ask Dylan for help."

"Very well," Serafina sighed, making a great show of reluctance as she took the catalog from Parvati. "But nothing with ruffles or lace!"

*** 

"You'd better hurry up and find a date to the Ball, Ron," Harry told his friend. "Unless you want to go stag."

"I don't know who to ask," Ron said morosely. He'd finally accepted that he and Hermione were never going to be a couple, but he had no idea who to ask to the Ball. No other girl had really caught his fancy.

"Well, what about Luna?" Hermione suggested.

"Loony Lovegood?" Ron asked, making a face.

"Don't be mean!" Hermione scolded. "She's a little odd, but she's a nice girl, and she really likes you."

Ron thought that he really had better find himself a date before Hermione tried to set him up with Luna. He sat in Potions class and looked over his female classmates. Padma still held a grudge about the way he had neglected her at the Ball back in fourth year, so she was out. And of course the Slytherin girls, Pansy and Millicent were out, and besides, they already had dates. Hmm...Lisa Turpin was very pretty, and she was quiet and soft-spoken, not too intimidating to talk to.

"Mr. Weasley!" Snape said sharply, and Ron jumped and looked up to see the Potions Master glaring down at him. "Your potion is about to boil over while you are daydreaming."

"Oh...sorry," Ron said, and quickly turned down the fire and added the next set of ingredients.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your inattention," Snape said, looking very pleased with himself. Well, at least he'd made somebody's day, and it all turned out even in the end, because Snape grudgingly awarded five points to Hermione for her potion later.

A perfect opportunity presented itself, as Lisa dropped her bookbag as they exited the class, and she waved for Padma to go on ahead. "Go on," she said. "I'll catch up with you in a minute." And as Padma was busy flirting with Terry Boot, she nodded and went on ahead without arguing.

Ron stopped to help Lisa pick up her books and she smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Ron."

"No problem," he replied. "Er...say, Lisa, I was wondering...?"

"Yes?"

"Um...would you like to go the Yule Ball with me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," Lisa said. "I'm very flattered, but I'm afraid that someone else has already has asked me."

"Who?" Ron asked curiously.

"Neville," Lisa replied.

"Really?" Ron blurted out, then realized it sounded a bit insulting. But while Neville was a nice guy, he was certainly no ladies' man like Dylan Rosier, whom Lisa had dated before. Well, neither was Ron, for that matter...

"Really," Lisa replied pleasantly. "We've been spending a lot of time together discussing plans for building cauldrons. He has a lot of interesting ideas, and I'm planning to apprentice with Damien's father when I graduate. Well, thanks for helping me pick up my books, Ron. See you around."

Ron sighed. "Now what?" he asked himself. Well, Hannah Abbott was in his class, too, and she was kind of cute. 

But when he managed to track down Hannah between classes, she said, "Oh, thanks for asking, Ron, but I'm already going with Ernie."

Ron silently groaned. There was a sixth-year Gryffindor girl who was a friend of his sister, Melissa Carroll, who seemed nice enough. And she was kind of shy, so hopefully she didn't have a date yet.

But it turned out she did. "Thank you, Ron," she said, "but Brad already asked me."

"Brad?" Ron asked.

"Brad Doherty," she replied.

"He's a Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed.

Melissa frowned at him. "I'm aware of that," she said in a much cooler voice. "But he's very nice. We partner together in Professor Lupin's class a lot."

Harry was right; he had waited too long. Finally he gave in to the inevitable, and went to ask Luna Lovegood to the Ball.

"Why, I'm very flattered that you asked, Ronald," Luna said, with that usual dreamy look in her eyes. "But I'm afraid that I already have a date."

"What?" Ron cried. "Who's your date?"

"Vincent," she replied serenely.

"Vincent?" Ron asked, puzzled.

Crabbe walked up to Luna and put an arm around her. "You snooze, you lose, Weasley," he said, grinning smugly.

Ron turned and headed back to the Gryffindor dorm, his face hot with embarrassment. Turned down even by Loony Lovegood--how humiliating! "I guess I will have to go stag, after all," he mumbled gloomily.

He happened to run into Goyle at that very moment. "If it makes you feel better, Weasley," Goyle told him glumly, "I don't have a date, either. It's even worse this year, since Crabbe does."

"How did he and Luna ever get together?" Ron demanded.

Goyle shrugged. "The three of us have been working together a lot with Hagrid's Thestrals," he replied, "and I guess the two of them just hit it off."

Ron walked down the halls, muttering and groaning to himself. He passed by Pansy and Millicent along the way, who gave him puzzled looks. "What's wrong with Weasley?" Millicent asked. "People usually don't break down until the N.E.W.T.s get closer."

"It's not the N.E.W.T.s," Goyle informed them. "He's depressed 'cause he doesn't have a date to the Ball."

"Hmm," said Pansy, and she and Millicent looked at each other thoughtfully.

Back at the Slytherin dorm, the students were eagerly chattering about their holiday plans. Most of them were staying over during the vacation for the Ball. Even Aric was going to the Ball, with Yvonne, although he looked a bit pained when she prattled on endlessly to him about what her dress was going to look like.

"Please, Yvonne," he said desperately. "Just surprise me, okay? Like--like getting a Christmas present, right? You don't want to peek at it ahead of time because it would ruin the surprise."

"Oh, that's so romantic!" Yvonne declared, and Aric sighed in relief when she ran off to giggle with some of her girlfriends.

Theodore snickered, and Aric scowled at him. "Oh, shut up, Theo! You don't even have a date!"

Theodore just grinned, for once not taking offense at his cousin's insults. "Yeah, and I think I'm better off than you!"

Aric just grunted, because he wasn't sure that Theo was wrong.

Only one person did not seem caught up in the excitement over the Ball. Pansy and Millicent looked over to see Daphne sitting in the corner quietly, reading a book, ignored by her housemates, and ignoring them in turn.

"I have an idea," Pansy said, and whispered it into Millicent's ear. They went to their room, and Pansy pulled some stationary out of her desk.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Millicent asked dubiously. "Weasley hates Slytherins."

"Not really," Pansy said. "He hung out with Dylan and Theodore during the summer. And I hear that he went to comfort Daphne after she ran out of Physical Defense class the day she smacked Draco. You know guys--they're a sucker for a helpless girl."

"And why are we playing cupid for Weasley and Greengrass?" Millicent wanted to know.

"What Granger said made me feel a little bad," Pansy admitted. "We were a little mean to Greengrass. Well, not really mean, but we've always ignored her."

"As you said, she's not in our social circle."

"Yeah, but technically, neither is Lupin," Pansy pointed out. "And neither is Justin. All that blood purity stuff doesn't seem so important now." She grinned. "And since I'm soon to be disowned for dating a Muggle-born, I feel like helping a fellow outcast. Or maybe I'm just caught up in the Christmas spirit!"

"If we want to help Greengrass, why don't we set her up with a Slytherin guy?" Millicent asked.

"Because she's scared of most of them," Pansy replied. "And most of them wouldn't want to date a girl whose blood might not be pure. Weasley doesn't care about stuff like that, so she's better off dating a Gryffindor. Besides, she looked a lot more cheerful when she came back to the dorm after he comforted her that day, so I think she kind of likes him. And when you think about it, he's a good catch: he's a pureblood, and he's the son of the Minister of Magic."

"I don't know if this will work, but it should be interesting to watch," Millicent said.

*** 

A little origami bird made its way into Gryffindor Tower and fluttered into Ron's room where he was studying. He unfolded it and saw a brief message written in a neat, feminine script:

Dear Ron,

Would you like to go to the Ball with me? If your answer is yes, please don't answer this letter directly. Slytherin girls aren't supposed to ask boys out, and I'm a little embarrassed about being so bold. Will you please pretend to ask me out, so that I won't lose face in front of my housemates? I'll be waiting for your answer, or hopefully, your question.

Love,  
Daphne

*** 

"I still say signing it 'Love' was laying it on a bit thick," Millicent told Pansy the next morning. "She's too timid to sign a letter 'Love'. She's too timid to send a letter in the first place."

"Weasley's too thick to realize that," Pansy said, unconcerned. "He'll be too flattered to think straight, trust me. It's not like he has a lot of girls chasing after him, and Daphne is pretty, for a mouse. Prettier than Lovegood, certainly."

They gleefully noticed that Weasley seemed nervous and flustered in DADA class, and kept glancing over at Daphne. She caught him looking her way and gave him a quick, timid smile, and he blushed and looked away.

"Like taking candy from a baby," Pansy whispered to Millicent. After class was over they ducked down a side corridor and lingered behind to see what happened.

Weasley and Greengrass were the last two students to leave the classroom. "Uh, Daphne," he said as they walked down the hall.

"Yes, Ron?" 

He took a deep breath.

"What's he so nervous about?" Millicent asked. "He already knows the answer, or thinks he does, anyway!"

"Shh!" hissed Pansy. "They'll hear you!"

"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Daphne blinked and stared at him in surprise. "With you?"

"Who else?" Weasley asked with a knowing grin. "If you won't 'lose face' by going with a Gryffindor."

Daphne smiled, looking puzzled but flattered. "You really want to go with me?"

"Yes," he said firmly, "I do."

The two girls hiding in the corridor held their breath while they waited for Daphne's reply.

"Thank you, Ron, I would love to."

"Great!" Weasley said. "I've got Potions class now, but I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," Daphne said, still looking a bit puzzled, but Weasley was apparently too euphoric to notice. He ran towards the dungeon, whistling cheerfully. Daphne shrugged, and continued on to her next class.

Pansy and Millicent emerged from the side corridor, laughing. "We did it!" Pansy said triumphantly.

"Did what?" Lupin asked pleasantly.

The two girls jumped. "Ah...nothing, Professor," Pansy said hastily.

"It's a...surprise," Millicent added quickly. "A Christmas surprise."

"Then I won't ask," Lupin said, giving them a wink. "I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. But you'd better hurry, or you'll be late for Potions. You know how grumpy Professor Snape gets when his students are late. And life is much more pleasant for me when Professor Snape is in a good mood." He winked at them again.

"Yes, Professor!" they said, and ran off to Potions class. Lupin chuckled and returned to his own classroom.

*** 

Goyle was in the library, doing some research for Incantations class, when he happened to see Allegra Zabini sitting at a table with three of her Gryffindor friends.

"It's so unfair that only fourth-years on up can go to the Yule Ball!" she was complaining. "Why can't younger students attend? I can't believe it's my first year at Hogwarts and they're having a Ball and I can't even go! They don't hold a Yule Ball every year; what if they never have another one before I graduate? I might never get to go to the Ball!"

Her friends made sympathetic noises, and they seemed disappointed too, but not nearly as distraught as Allegra sounded. She looked so sad that Goyle walked over and said, "A younger student can go to the Ball if an older student asks them. Would you like to go with me, Allegra?"

Allegra's face lit up with joy. "Really? Do you mean that, Goyle?"

"Sure," he said.

"But wouldn't you like to go with a girl your own age?" Allegra asked. "Don't you have a girlfriend or something?"

Goyle shook his head ruefully. "No, I don't have a girlfriend, and I couldn't get a date to the Ball. So it's okay. I figured that even if I can't get a real date, at least I could make you happy."

Allegra beamed at him. "Well then, thank you, Goyle! Thank you so much! I can't understand why no one would want to go with you; you're such a nice guy! Say--why does everyone always call you by your last name?"

"Uh, I don't know," Goyle replied. "Malfoy's always called me that, and I guess it just stuck. No one calls me and Crabbe by our first names except for our families and Lupin and now Luna."

"Well, it seems kind of rude to always be calling you by your last name," Allegra said, "especially since you're my date to the Ball. Is it okay if I call you 'Greg'?"

Goyle shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, Greg!" Allegra pulled up a chair and stood on it, in order to get high enough to kiss Goyle on the cheek. "Boy, I can't wait to tell Blaise that I'm going to the Ball!" She ran out of the library, and her three friends ran after her, all of them laughing and giggling and squealing excitedly.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Madam Pince called after them.

Allegra ran down to the dungeon and stood outside the entrance to the Slytherin dorm, shouting, "Blaise! Hey Blaise, are you in there? Come out, I want to talk to you!"

A moment later Blaise emerged, saying, "What are you shouting about? Do you want to get detention from Professor Snape?"

"Guess what, Blaise? I'm going to the Ball!"

Blaise gave her a puzzled frown. "You're too young, Allegra; you have to be at least a fourth-year--"

"Unless an older student asks you! And Goyle--I mean Greg--asked me to go to the Ball with him. Isn't that great?"

"He _what_?!" shouted Blaise.

"He asked me to go to the Ball with him," Allegra obligingly repeated.

"Where is he?" Blaise demanded.

"Well, he was in the library last I saw," Allegra replied, giving her brother a quizzical look. Blaise took off running down the hall. "What's wrong with him?" Allegra asked. "I thought he'd be happy for me."

"Er...he is, Allegra," Theodore said. "He just...ah..."

"Wants to thank Goyle for inviting you," Dylan finished smoothly. "Now, why don't we go over to Gryffindor, and talk to Parvati about finding you an outfit for the Ball?"

"Okay," Allegra said happily, then looked worried. "I don't know if my parents can afford to buy me a new robe. I asked for one of those toy wolf cubs for Christmas, and I don't think they can afford both." She sighed. "Maybe if I gave up the wolf cub..."

"We'll work something out," Dylan promised.

"I have lots of party dresses at home," Portia said. "You can borrow one; I'll have Mummy owl it over."

"Thank you, Portia!" Allegra said, giving her friend a hug. "You're the best!"

Portia flushed with pleasure, and her flush grew even deeper when Dylan smiled at her and said, "Allegra is lucky to have such good friends." They headed off to Gryffindor Tower, and Theodore ran after Blaise.

*** 

Blaise ran into Goyle on his way back from the library. Without warning, he grabbed the bigger boy by the front of his robes and slammed him up against the wall. "What do you think you're doing, asking my sister to the Ball?!" he demanded. "She's eleven years old!"

"Z-Zabini?" Goyle stammered.

By this time, Theodore had caught up with them, and grabbed Blaise and tried to haul him off of Goyle. "Have you gone insane?" he cried. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

But Goyle seemed more stunned than angry, regarding the normally meek and quiet Slytherin boy with the bewildered air of a St. Bernard being attacked by a chihuahua.

"I'm sure that Goyle isn't trying to put the moves on your sister," Theodore said placatingly.

"Of course not!" Goyle said indignantly. "I'm not a child molester, Zabini!"

"Then why did you ask her to the Ball?" Blaise asked suspiciously.

"Because I felt sorry for her, you moron!" Goyle told him. "She's a cute little kid, and she's always nice to me; makes me wish I had a little sister myself. She was talking about how she wished she could go to the Ball, and she sounded so wistful. I haven't got a date, so I figured why not make her happy?" He gave Blaise a reproving look. "You know, Zabini, you could have taken her yourself, since it's not like you have a date to the Ball, either." He glanced over at Theodore. "At least, not an official one."

Blaise released his hold on Goyle's robes. "I didn't think of that," he said sheepishly.

"Look, if you'd rather take her yourself, that's fine," Goyle said. "I was just trying to be nice."

"No," Blaise said, "Allegra will probably be hurt if you un-invite her. Will you please take her to the Ball? I'm really sorry I jumped to conclusions and lost my temper."

"It's okay, Zabini," Goyle said magnanimously, brushing off his robes. "I forgive you."

"Well, thank you for being nice to Allegra," Blaise said. "You're right; I should've realized she'd want to go."

"No problem," Goyle said. "She's a good kid."

Goyle continued on his way, and Theodore gave Blaise a sardonic smile. "Boy, I've never seen you go into overprotective big-brother mode like that before. I hate to see what you're going to be like when Allegra is old enough to really start dating."

Blaise groaned. "I don't even want to think about it!"

Theodore grinned. "Even now, she's a pretty little girl. In a few years, she'll be beating the boys off with sticks."

"I think I'll lock her in a tower until she's thirty," Blaise grumbled. Theodore laughed, and they headed back to the dorm.

*** 

The R.A. met one more time before school let out for the holidays. Susan reported on Justin inviting Pansy to the Yule Ball. "Do you think maybe we were wrong about the Slytherins?" she asked hesitantly. "For someone like Pansy to go out with a Muggle-born...maybe they really have changed."

"Someone cast that hex on Dylan during the Quidditch match," Dean reminded her.

Isabelle and Stewart exchanged a brief look; they both knew who had really been responsible for the hex.

"Maybe it was just an internal Slytherin conflict," Jack said carelessly. "Let 'em kill each other off; who cares?"

"I still think Pansy's trying to trick Justin somehow," Tristan grumbled.

"We'll just have to wait and see what happens," Isabelle finally said after a long silence.

There were a few shrugs and grumbles, but most of the members' minds were focused more on the holidays than their conflict with Slytherin right now. Tristan in particular was distracted, not just by the holidays, but by the feud going on within his family, and he left as soon as the meeting was concluded.

Only Isabelle and Stewart remained behind. "This isn't working out!" Stewart said in an agitated voice. "It didn't provoke a conflict the way we thought it would! We've got to find some way to draw the Slytherins out!"

"Let me think about it," Isabelle said. "Perhaps we can plan something...special...for the Yule Ball."

But Stewart grew impatient; sometimes Isabelle's plots were a bit too subtle for his taste. And then one day near the end of the term, he ran into Aric Dietrich between classes--literally. He was preoccupied with thinking of some way to prove that the Slytherins really were Death Eaters, and wasn't watching where he was going. "Oof!" he cried as he ran into the taller and heavier boy, and fell over backwards, dropping his bookbag and spilling its contents, and landing with a painful "thump!" on his backside. Aric laughed, and Stewart glared up at him. "Watch where you're going, you Slytherin git!"

Aric just sneered and said, "Why don't you watch where you're going, raven-boy? Too busy daydreaming about your little French girlfriend to watch where you're going?" Then he calmly stepped over Stewart's sprawled body and continued on his way, carelessly trodding across one of Stewart's homework assignments and leaving a footprint on it--Potions, of course. Snape would probably deduct a grade for that.

Theodore happened to be watching, and laughed mockingly at the fallen Ravenclaw. Normally he might have had more sympathy for a victim of his cousin, but he had not forgotten the way that Stewart had insulted Serafina's mother in The Three Broomsticks.

"That's enough, Theo," Blaise said in a quiet, disapproving voice, and grabbed his friend by the arm, and they hurried off to class.

"Ah, it serves him right," Stewart heard Theodore say in a dismissive tone as they disappeared out of sight down the hall. 

"Stewart! Are you all right?" an alarmed Lisa Turpin asked. She and a few other students stopped to help him get to his feet and gather up his things.

"I'm fine," Stewart said, but inside he was seething. It was then that he came up with a plan to get back at both Dietrich and his cousin...

*** 

"That was kind of mean, Theo," Blaise said when they were alone in their room studying after classes.

"Are you still going on about Ackerley?" Theodore asked irritably, without looking up from his textbook. "He's a git; have you forgotten how he treated Sera's mum?" His long hair was falling into his eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently with one hand.

"I haven't forgotten," Blaise said quietly, gently pulling back the offending lock of hair and tucking it behind Theodore's ear. "And I don't like him, either. But for a moment there, you and Dietrich looked awfully alike." Theodore raised his head, startled, and his dark green eyes looked both hurt and guilty. 

"He deserved it!" Theodore protested defensively.

"It reminded me of the way you used to pretend to be one of Malfoy's loyal cronies," Blaise continued, and Theodore flushed with shame, ducking his head, causing his hair to fall forward across his face again. "I know you're better than that, Theo," Blaise said in a tender voice, brushing Theodore's hair back away from his face.

"Okay, maybe I shouldn't have laughed," Theodore grumbled. "You're awfully idealistic for a Slytherin, Blaise. Maybe Father is right--he's always saying that Remus is corrupting his Slytherins." Blaise laughed, and Theodore smiled at him in relief. "I don't know why you won't let me cut my hair," he grumbled, but in a much more good-natured voice this time. It's kind of a pain; it keeps getting in my eyes. I don't know how you can stand it." 

Blaise laughed again. His hair was shoulder length, just a little longer than Theo's, but it was all one length, while Theo's bangs were still growing out. "It'll be better when it grows out a bit more," Blaise said cheerfully. "It's starting to get long enough so that you can tuck it behind your ears. And besides, if you cut your hair, I can't do this..." He ran his fingers through Theodore's hair. "Or this." He pushed Theodore's bangs back behind his ears, running his fingers lightly along the curves of the ears, then leaned over and gently nibbled on one lobe; Theodore gasped.

"That you can do whether I have long or short hair," Theodore said in a husky voice. Blaise ignored him, gathering up his hair and pushing it out of the way as pressed his lips first to the side, and then the nape of Theodore's neck.

"We're supposed to be studying," Theodore protested weakly. "We have a History of Magic test tomorrow."

Blaise let go of Theodore's hair and let it fall back across his shoulders, but only so that he could work on unfastening Theodore's robes. "We'll just take a short break," he said coaxingly. "It'll relax us so that we can study better."

"It'll be your fault if I fail History!" Theodore groaned.

"You're a good student, Theo; you'll be fine," Blaise reassured him. "If you really want to stop and go back to studying, you can." Despite his words, he shoved aside the book and crawled onto Theodore's lap. "But I think you'll have trouble concentrating! So you see, it's better to stop and get this over with."

"I take it back," Theodore said, giving him a smile that was half-resigned, half-admiring. "You are a true Slytherin!" Then he gave in--not that he had really been struggling all that hard--and wrapped his arms around Blaise and kissed him.

*** 

A tall, dark-haired boy in a Slytherin uniform ran past Professor Vector as she approached the Arithmancy classroom for her first class that morning. She gave the boy a puzzled look, but he had already run out of sight down the hall. She thought the boy looked like Theodore Nott--no, Snape--but he was no longer her student, as he had stopped taking Arithmancy after fifth year, when the students started to choose more specialized classes in keeping with their career plans, so there was no reason for him to be here. Then her seventh-year class began arriving, and she shrugged off the odd incident and entered the classroom.

"Everyone take your seats," she ordered. "Let's get settled down so that you can take your tests." The class groaned, except for Miss Granger, who looked as eager as always. "The sooner you start," Vector said heartlessly, "the sooner it will be over with. So let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

There was a large box sitting on Aric's desk, wrapped in bright red and green Christmas paper, and topped off with a large red bow.

"Dietrich got a Christmas present?" Draco asked incredulously.

Aric glared at him. "Believe it or not, there are a few people who like me, Malfoy."

"Could've fooled me," Draco muttered.

"There's no tag on it," Aric observed.

"Perhaps it's from a secret admirer," Hermione suggested brightly.

Aric, like most Slytherins, was a bit more cynical and suspicious. He knew he wasn't very popular, although a few of the younger Slytherin girls, like Yvonne, were infatuated with him--or rather, not so much with him personally, but with his good looks and pure blood. He picked up the box and gave it a cautious shake.

An explosion rocked the room and the students jumped to their feet, screaming. When the smoke cleared, Aric lay on the floor covered with blood, and there were splashes of blood and bits of wrapping paper and bloody fur all over the room.

"Mr. Dietrich!" Vector cried, rushing to his side. The boy groaned softly. "Oh, thank Merlin, he's still alive! Is everyone else all right?"

The students answered in the affirmative; they were all shaken but unharmed, although some of them were spattered with blood not their own. As Vector called to Madam Pomfrey through the fireplace, Hermione knelt down and picked up a scrap of bloody fur. She looked up to see Draco staring down at her, his face ghostly white, but his eyes filled with recognition. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked softly.

"I think that Hagrid should go count his Porvoras," Draco replied.

*** 

Theodore received a summons in the middle of Ancient Runes to report to the hospital wing. He was surprised to find Aric there, lying in one of the beds, with bandages around his head and arms. Madam Pomfrey was tending to him, and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, Hagrid, and Vector were also there, all looking grave and troubled.

"What's going on?" Theodore asked, an uneasy feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know what had happened, but he instinctively knew it wasn't good.

"Like you don't know!" snarled Aric.

"What's going on?" Theodore repeated. "What happened to you? Are you all right?"

"He'll be fine in a few days," Pomfrey said. "But he had an unfortunate encounter with a Porvora." She glared at Hagrid. "Those creatures never should have been brought to the school."

Hagrid began weeping, apparently not for the first time, as his eyes were already red. "Poor little thing," he sobbed. "He was only a baby! Who could be so cruel ter a little guy like that?"

"You're more concerned about the damn Porvora than me!" Aric complained. "It almost killed me!" He glared at his cousin hatefully. _"You_ almost killed me."

"Me?" Theodore protested. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Someone stole one of Hagrid's Porvoras, wrapped it up as a Christmas present, and left it on Aric's desk in Professor Vector's classroom," Dumbledore said quietly.

"So what does this have to do with me?" Theodore asked, confused and hurt by the concerned looks Snape and Lupin were giving him. "I don't even take Arithmancy; I was nowhere near that room this morning."

"I saw you running out of the room, Mr. Snape," Vector said.

"What?!" Theodore cried. "That's a lie!"

"Why would Vector lie?" Aric snapped.

"That's Professor Vector, Mr. Dietrich," Dumbledore said quietly. "But yes, Theodore, there is no reason for Professor Vector to lie. She has no grudge against you, and indeed says that you were a good student when you used to take Arithmancy."

"Well then, she's mistaken about seeing me!" Theodore insisted, and turned to Snape, saying, "Father, surely you don't believe I had anything to do with this!" 

He was dismayed to see a hint of doubt in his father's black eyes. "Theodore," Snape said carefully, in an almost gentle voice, "I don't believe that you would wish to kill your cousin, but if this is some sort of prank that got out of hand, you can tell me the truth. I won't be angry."

"I _am_ telling you the truth!" Theodore screamed, his eyes filling with tears. "I swear it! You can question me under Truth Potion; I swear I didn't do it!"

"We believe you, Theodore," Lupin said, sounding relieved, and he stepped forward to hug his foster son.

"I'm sorry, Theodore," Snape said, looking a little guilty. "I believe you."

"Well, I don't!" Aric shouted.

"But I saw him..." Vector said hesitantly.

"Theodore's word is good enough for me," Snape said sharply.

But that brief moment of doubt still stung, and Theodore said, "No! I want you to question me under Truth Potion! I want you to know for sure that I'm not lying!"

"I cannot force someone to take Truth Potion in a situation such as this," Dumbledore said, his face still grave, "but if Mr. Snape is willing, we could resolve this matter quickly and clear his name."

"You don't have to do this," Snape said, still looking guilty.

"I want to!" Theodore insisted. He didn't care what the others thought of him, but he wanted to prove beyond a doubt to his parents that he was innocent.

"Very well," Snape said. "I'll be back in a moment." He took the Floo to the dungeon and returned shortly with a small vial. "Open your mouth, please, Theodore," he said. Theodore obeyed and Snape carefully placed three drops of the potion on his tongue.

*** 

All the emotion, the fear and hurt, drained out of Theodore's face, to be replaced by a look of unnatural calm; his gray-green eyes looked slightly glazed. Snape nodded at Dumbledore.

"Theodore?" the Headmaster asked. "Did you steal a Porvora from the pen behind Hagrid's hut?"

"No," Theodore replied in an emotionless voice.

"Did you ask someone else to do it for you?"

"No."

"Did you place the package containing the Porvora on Aric's desk?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?"

"No."

"Did you enter the Arithmancy classroom this morning?"

"No."

"Did you try to cause harm to Mr. Dietrich?"

"No."

Dumbledore looked over at the other teachers. "I think we can agree that Mr. Snape is innocent of any responsibility in this incident, then."

Aric glared at Snape. "How can we trust the potion when Theodore's father is the Potions Master? How do we even know that's Truth Potion in there? It could be water for all we know!"

"Professor Snape is not under suspicion here, Mr. Dietrich," Dumbledore said sternly.

Snape glared at Aric. "You'll just have to trust me, Mr. Dietrich," he said in a cold voice, then reached into his pocket. "I'll administer the antidote now."

But before he could do so, Aric quickly called out, "Theo, are you responsible for Uncle Rafe's death?"

Snape whirled around, his eyes blazing with fury, but it was too late. "Yes," Theodore said, his voice still eerily emotionless. 

"I knew it!" Aric hissed.

"Theodore," Lupin said gently, coming over to place an arm around Theo's shoulders, "it wasn't your fault."

"I showed him the welts and blisters on my arm where my father had hexed me," Theodore droned on calmly. "He was angry; he said he would protect me. He said he would take me to live with him, but first he went to confront my father. I told him not to, but he wouldn't listen. He said he wouldn't leave my mother behind. He told my father that he was taking us away from him, said he'd prove that Father was a Death Eater."

Snape fumbled with the vial of the antidote, cursing under his breath. "Father cast a Killing Curse at--" Theodore continued, then choked and coughed as Snape firmly grasped his chin, tilted his head back, and poured the antidote down his throat.

"Theodore?" Snape asked anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Theodore stared at him blankly for a moment, then blinked, and his green eyes filled with horror and grief. He turned to look at his cousin.

Aric's dark eyes were filled with grief and anger. A tear trickled down his face as he said, "I knew it was your fault!"

Theodore just stared back at him, his eyes haunted rather than angry. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "If I'd known what he was going to do, I never would have told him what Father did to me."

"It's not your fault, Theo!" Lupin said emphatically, and wrapped his arms around the boy. Lupin gave Aric a hard, accusing look. "You know who is really responsible for Rafe's death, Aric," he said reprovingly. "We had this talk in my office once before."

"I'll have you expelled, Dietrich!" Snape shouted.

Dumbledore frowned disapprovingly at Aric. "Perhaps not expelled, but he certainly should be punished. You betrayed your housemate and cousin's trust, Mr. Dietrich, took advantage--"

"What do you mean, not expelled?" Snape cried in outrage.

Dumbledore looked over at Lupin and Theodore; the boy was still resting passively in the werewolf's arms, looking tired and haunted. He made no argument for or against his cousin's expulsion. "Why don't you take Theodore back to your quarters while we determine Mr. Dietrich's fate, Remus?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Yes, Albus," Lupin instantly replied.

"But I have tests," Theodore argued halfheartedly. "I was in the middle of one in Ancient Runes--"

"You can make up your tests later," Lupin told him, gently but firmly. "I'll speak to your teachers." Theodore meekly followed him through the Floo with no further protests.

Dumbledore turned back to Aric. "What you did was very wrong, and you know it," he said. "And for what? To learn what you already knew?" Aric flushed a little. "You behave foolishly at times, Mr. Dietrich, but you are an intelligent young man. Even if you didn't know the particulars, you had already guessed that Rafe died trying to protect Theodore and Marta from Thaddeus."

"You promised that I could expel him if he made trouble!" Snape told Dumbledore.

"No, I said you could expel him if his hostility moved beyond words and he hexed his cousin," Dumbledore replied. "He has not done so, although he is seriously testing the limits of my patience." He gave Aric a stern look, and suddenly the affable, good-natured twinkle in his eyes was gone, to be replaced by a cold, implacable look. There was great power and great anger behind that gaze, and Aric shuddered; this was the wizard that even the Dark Lord had feared.

Snape spluttered with rage, Dumbledore blinked, and suddenly that aura of power was gone, although the Headmaster was still regarding him with disapproval. "Why should we give him a second chance?" Snape demanded. "He may not have harmed Theodore physically, but he's taunted and tormented him at every possible opportunity!"

"There were times," Dumbledore said, "when Draco treated Harry cruelly and unfairly. And times when you did." Snape's pale face flushed, although he still looked angry. "But if I had sent Draco away, he and Harry would not have learned to resolve their differences and work together. And perhaps Draco would have followed the same path as his father."

"I'm not a Death Eater!" Aric said indignantly. "And I don't want to be friends with Theo! If that's what you're hoping for, you might as well expel me now!"

"Don't tempt me, Mr. Dietrich," Dumbledore said, giving him that cold look again, and Aric fell silent.

"Redemption for everyone, Albus?" Snape asked, with a twisted smile that was somehow both bitter and affectionate at the same time. "Even a Death Eater."

"A chance at redemption, Severus," Dumbledore corrected him gently. "It is up to the individual to earn that redemption."

"So," Snape said, still with that odd, bitter smile, "I suppose that if even a Death Eater is given a second chance, that a young student who is merely obnoxious should be offered one, too."

Aric scowled, but remained silent, still intimidated by the more frightening side of Dumbledore.

"As you say," the Headmaster said, with his good-natured smile back in place.

"Well, he's not going to get off scot-free, is he?" Snape demanded.

"Oh no," Dumbledore agreed. "Fifty points from--"

"It's not fair to deduct points from Slytherin!" Snape hastily interjected. "That's Theodore's House as well, and he would in essence be punished for his cousin's crime!"

"You're right, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Well then, Mr. Dietrich will serve detention for the entire Christmas break--I do believe that you had planned to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays, Aric." Aric nodded sullenly. "If you behave yourself," Dumbledore continued, "I'll even let you attend the Ball."

"Whoopee," Aric muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Dietrich?" Dumbledore asked in a tone of stern warning.

"Nothing," Aric said.

"Is that all?" Snape asked disapprovingly. "Two weeks detention?"

"And an essay on the ethical use of Truth Potions, and the dangers of abusing them," Dumbledore added. "Two feet of parchment. His detention shall be served with Master Bleddri, who, I believe, was planning to spend much of his vacation helping at the clinic in Diagon Alley."

Snape smirked at Aric's dismayed expression. "Fine, but I feel a little sorry for Bleddri."

McGonagall said impatiently, "I am relieved to know that Mr. Snape is innocent, but that means we have no idea who is behind the attack on Mr. Dietrich."

Snape turned to Vector, his eyes narrowing. "Are you sure it was Theodore you saw?"

Vector thought it over carefully. "I only caught a quick glimpse of him," she replied. "I didn't get a good look at his face. But it was a tall boy with shoulder-length black hair in a Slytherin uniform. I assumed it was Mr. Snape."

"There's not that many people in Slytherin who match that description," McGonagall said with a frown. "Perhaps Mr. Zabini--"

Vector shook her head. "No, he's shorter than Mr. Snape." Everyone glanced over at Aric.

"Hey!" Aric cried indignantly.

"Mr. Dietrich is the right height, but his hair is too short," Vector said. "And I hardly think that he would plant a bomb on his own desk."

"Thank you," Aric muttered.

"It could be someone using a Polyjuice Potion to look like Theodore," Snape said, looking concerned. "Or perhaps some sort of glamor or illusion..." They all looked at each other, and Snape cursed under his breath. "Of course, an Illusion spell! I knew that damn tanuki would be trouble!"

"It's a rather advanced spell, Severus," McGonagall said a bit doubtfully. "Master Satoshi has taught his students simple Illusion spells, but to take the form of another person is very difficult--"

"But he--or she, it could even be a girl if it's an illusion--would only have to maintain the spell for a minute or two, just long enough for Professor Vector to get a glimpse of him," Snape said. "And she never saw his face. It would be easier to maintain the more general illusion of a dark-haired boy than Theodore specifically. And changing the crest on one's robe would not be that difficult." He looked over at Aric. "So who would want to hurt you besides my son, Dietrich?"

"At least half of Hogwarts," Aric said grumpily, then winced. "I can't think straight; my head hurts."

"You were thinking quickly enough to take advantage of the Truth Potion," Snape snapped.

"Let him be," Pomfrey said. "He did suffer a concussion during the explosion, and the Healing spells have drained his strength. Let him get some rest; if he thinks of anything later, I'll let you know."

"Very well," Snape said, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "Since we don't know who tried to harm Mr. Dietrich, perhaps you should set some warding spells around the room and limit access to teachers for now." 

Pomfrey looked unhappy, but nodded, and the teachers departed, Hagrid still sniffling over his slain Porvora. Snape paused beside Aric's bed on the way out and bent down to whisper, "Just remember, Dietrich, you may have been given a second chance, but you won't get a third one no matter what the Headmaster says." He gave Aric a cold, piercing look that made him shudder.

"Severus!" Pomfrey snapped, and Snape left.

*** 

Snape went to his quarters to find Lupin and Theodore sitting on the couch. Theodore looked pale and unhappy, and Lupin looked worried. He was stroking Theodore's hair and saying something in a soft, comforting voice when Snape walked in, and he looked up and said in a relieved voice, "Ah, Severus, you're here."

Snape sat on the couch beside them and asked, "Are you all right, Theodore? Sometimes people feel a little ill while the Truth Potion is wearing off." But when he looked into his son's eyes, he knew that the Truth Potion had nothing to do with it. He realized that he had inadvertently hurt Theodore much worse than Aric had, and silently cursed himself for it. "I'm sorry, Theodore," he said. "I'm truly sorry that I doubted you for even a moment."  "When I saw that look in your eyes..." Theodore whispered.

"I'm sorry," Snape repeated, feeling helpless. Normally he hated apologizing, but now the words fell easily from his lips, for all the good that they did. He would apologize a hundred times if it would make Theodore feel better, but he was afraid that a simple apology would not be enough to mend things between them.

"As much as I hate Aric," Theodore said, "I wouldn't kill him."

"I know," Snape said. "I just--"

"It's bad enough that I'm responsible for Rafe's death."

"You're not responsible for--"

"I've already done enough to Aric," Theodore continued, and his voice still sounded a little hollow, as if the Truth Potion was still in effect. "By taking our uncle away from him. I don't blame him for hating me."

"Theodore--"

Theodore looked up, his green eyes filled with tears, and suddenly his voice was full of emotion again. "And I wouldn't dishonor you that way, Father, even if I did want to hurt Aric! I promised to be a good heir and uphold the honor of the Snape family! I wouldn't risk that over some stupid quarrel with Aric!"

"I'm sorry, Theodore," Snape said, wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him close. "I'm so sorry." He held the boy while he wept, gently stroking Theodore's hair and back. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I doubted, for just a moment, because I did some very stupid things myself when I was a boy, casting hexes upon Lupin's Gryffindor friends. And of course I made a monumental mistake by joining the Death Eaters." Theodore raised his head up off Snape's chest a little, sniffling and blinking back tears. 

"You're much wiser than I was at your age," Snape told him, laying his hand against Theodore's cheek and gently brushing away a tear with his thumb. "I should have trusted you. But even if you did make a mistake, you could never dishonor me. You will always be my son, and I will always love you, no matter what you do."

Theodore's eyes widened, and Snape thought for a moment that he had made a mistake by implying that Theodore might do something dishonorable in the future, although he had not meant it that way. But suddenly Theodore flung his arms around Snape and said fiercely, his voice slightly muffled because his face was pressed against Snape's chest, "I love you, Father!"

It was the first time that Theodore had said those words to him. Snape, who had been taught--with a Cruciatus Curse--not to cry as a child, who had wept only a handful of times in his entire life, found his eyes filling with tears. He held Theodore tightly, and gently pressed his lips against the top of Theodore's head, although he was normally reticent about showing such affection to his sons, at least when they were awake. "I love you, Theo," he said softly, and was only half-aware that he had used the boy's nickname for the very first time.

Lupin noticed, though, and smiled tenderly at the pair; he was weeping himself a little, too. He came over and slipped his arms around both of them, and Theodore looked up and laughed through his tears.

"And I love you, too, Remus," Theodore laughed, and Snape was relieved to finally see that the hurt, betrayed look had finally vanished from his eyes.

"And I love you, Theo," Lupin said with a smile, planting a gentle kiss on Theodore's forehead. "And you, too, Severus." And planted a less gentle kiss square on Snape's mouth.

"That's enough, Lupin," Snape said gruffly. "I think we're all aware of that." Lupin grinned hugely, Theodore laughed again, and the three of them disentangled themselves.

"We didn't really think you would do such a thing," Lupin told his son gently, "but we were confused by Vector's statement that she'd seen you leave the room."

"We should have seen the most obvious answer," Snape said, feeling disgusted with himself. "A Polyjuice Potion, or more likely, an Illusion spell."

"Of course!" Lupin exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because Aric and I are always at each other's throats," Theodore replied with a wry smile. "And because Slytherins are famous for hexing other people, including each other."

"It wasn't precisely a hex," Lupin said.

"And you're afraid of the Porvoras," Snape said, mentally kicking himself. "I remember how you came to complain to me about them when Hagrid brought them to class. Even if you did intend to play a prank on your cousin, I should've realized that you wouldn't use a Porvora to do it."

"It's a stupid, thoughtless prank," Lupin said. "I hate to say it, but it sounds like something a Gryffindor might do."

"Is it really thoughtless?" Snape wondered. "That's twice now, that someone has played a prank that could have caused serious injury. Is it thoughtlessness or malice? Even Black wasn't stupid enough to play a near-fatal prank twice."

"You're scaring me, Severus," Lupin whispered.

"Maybe we should be scared," Snape said grimly. "I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps it's best that we'll be going to Snape Manor soon." He stroked Theodore's hair. "You'll be safe there."

"It wasn't me who was attacked," Theodore pointed out, but he seemed pleased by Snape's concern. "Um...what will happen to Aric?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't let me expel him," Snape said sourly. "He gets two weeks detention with the werewolf...er, the other werewolf. He'll probably be 'volunteering' at the clinic again."

"I think it will be good for him," Lupin said.

"I'm sorry," Snape told Theodore. "I still think he should have been expelled for that little stunt, but--"

"It's okay, Father," Theodore assured him. "I don't really care. I'm just glad that you trust me again."

That made Snape feel guilty again. He awkwardly reached out and patted Theodore on the shoulder. "Well, why don't you lie down and get some rest?" he said gruffly. "Remus and I will stay here with you."

"But what about my classes?" Theodore asked. "And what about your classes?"

"I doubt that anyone will mind missing Potions class," Snape said dryly, "except perhaps Dylan and Miss Granger." Theodore laughed. "All the students have to do is turn in their potions today, anyway. I was going to make them test their potions on each other, but I can test them in my workshop later."

"Why don't you at least rest till lunch?" Lupin said with a smile. "If you're feeling better, you can finish up your afternoon classes."

"Okay," Theodore said, giving in. He did feel shaken, and a little drained, although he thought it was probably more to do with being upset that his parents had doubted him than any aftereffects of the potion. And it made him happy that Snape and Lupin thought he was more important than their classes.

It made him even happier when Dylan burst into the Potions Master's quarters a little later, red-faced and out of breath from running. "Draco told me what happened," he gasped. "That Dietrich got attacked. And then we heard that Theo got pulled out of class, and people were saying that he did it, but I know he didn't--"

"Calm down, Dylan," Snape said, as Dylan panted and tried to catch his breath. "I'm sorry, I should have sent word to you that everything is fine."

"Fine?" Dylan cried. "Dietrich nearly got killed, Theo got pulled out of class, and Dumbledore canceled your and Remus's classes for the morning!"

"I'm okay, Dylan, really," Theodore said, coming out of the bedroom when he heard all the commotion.

"I'm sorry, Dylan," Lupin said, giving him a hug. "We should have realized you'd be worried. Theo was accused of attacking Aric, and he took a Truth Potion to prove his innocence. He's fine, but we thought he should rest a bit before going back to class."

"Attack?" Dylan exclaimed. "Truth Potion? What's going on?"

Snape sighed. "It's a long story, but I see you won't leave until you hear it." But the annoyance in his voice did not seem genuine, and he smiled a little. "Well, have a seat. I'll write you an excuse slip for the class you're missing."

*** 

"Have you lost your mind?!" Isabelle shouted furiously. "How dare you do something like that without consulting me first! You could've ruined everything, exposed the R.A.--"

"Relax," Stewart said. "I set up Theodore Snape to take the fall--"

"And they've already declared him innocent!" Isabelle shot back. "Or haven't you heard?" From the look on his face, Stewart had not. "I overheard Sprout talking about it with Vector--they questioned Theodore under Truth Potion! What if they decide to question every student in the school with Truth Potion?!"

Stewart's face went pale. "That's against the law! They can't do that without a warrant--"

"Dumbledore is a law unto himself!" Isabelle snapped. "And Snape is a Death Eater who doesn't care about the law! He doesn't give a damn about Dietrich, but since you framed his son, he'll be very interested in finding the real culprit--"

"No one can link me to the attack," Stewart protested, although he was still pale. "I was very careful."

"What if someone remembers your little run-in with Dietrich the other day? Don't you think you'll be one of the prime suspects?"

"I'm not the only one who's had a run-in with Dietrich," Stewart argued, but he turned even more pale. "He's pissed off at least half the people in the school, including most of his own housemates!"

"Well, I still think they'll be coming to question you eventually," Isabelle said, still glaring at him. "You'd better have an alibi ready."

"Corbin will say I was with him," Stewart said. "And since Corbin's been making nice to Rosier lately, hopefully they won't suspect him."

"You better hope they don't," Isabelle said coldly. "If we're exposed, it will ruin everything we've worked for, not to mention that you could have hurt innocent people. There were Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws in that class too, you know."

Stewart hung his head. "I didn't think," he said remorsefully.

"That's obvious," Isabelle said.

"I'm sorry," Stewart said contritely. "If I'm caught, I'll take the blame. I'll say it was all my idea--I won't mention the R.A., no matter what!"

"You won't be able to help it if they force you to take Truth Potion," Isabelle said, but she seemed to relent a little. "Although I don't think it will come to that. But from now on, you're to do nothing without talking to me first, is that clear?"

"Yes, Isabelle," Stewart said meekly. "I'm sorry, I was just getting so impatient. I want revenge for my father's death--"

"No, I think you wanted revenge because Dietrich hurt your pride," Isabelle said dryly, and Stewart flushed. "He doesn't associate with the Death Eater families because of his uncle's murder."

"He's still a Slytherin," Stewart said defensively. "None of them can be trusted."

"I didn't say that he was trustworthy," Isabelle replied. "But we should be targeting the real Death Eater sympathizers."

"Yes, Isabelle."

"Well, perhaps it's not a total loss," Isabelle said thoughtfully. "Your little misadventure has just given me an idea as to how we may expose our enemies without harming anyone."

"Really?" Stewart said, his eyes lighting up. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you about it _after_ you are no longer a suspect in the attack," Isabelle said sternly.

"Yes, Isabelle," Stewart sighed.

*** 

Stewart was questioned, but Corbin claimed they had been together at the time, that Stewart had been helping him go over his homework before class started. And Flitwick was protective of his student, who had so recently lost his father; he believed that Stewart was a little troubled, perhaps, but certainly not violent. He adamantly refused to allow Snape to administer Truth Potion without any concrete evidence that Stewart was involved, and pointed out that Stewart's family, who was well-acquainted with the law, would certainly file a complaint against the school if Truth Potion was administered without a Ministry-issued warrant. And Snape, although he was still suspicious of the Ravenclaw boy, knew that he wouldn't be able to get a warrant with no real evidence, particularly not for the son of a slain Auror.

And it was true that Aric had offended many people, including the majority of his Slytherin housemates, and that he'd had similar run-ins with other students in the past; Stewart's was just the most recent. They were mainly minor incidents: running into another student accidentally and failing to give an apology, or making a snide, offhand insult for no particular reason. He also excelled at his Physical Defense lessons, as much as he claimed to disdain them, and had openly taken pleasure in administering many painful bruises to his sparring partners in class. 

There was nothing in particular, save the timing, that made Stewart's confrontation stand out. If Snape had known that Theodore had laughed at the encounter, he might have been more suspicious, but Theodore was still a little ashamed of how he had behaved, and did not mention it. Snape might brush it off, but Remus would be disappointed in him, and he didn't want to see disappointment or disapproval in his parents' eyes so soon after they had suspected him, however briefly, of being involved in the attack on Aric. 

Only a handful of students, mostly Ravenclaws, had witnessed the incident, and none of them mentioned Theodore's presence, either. Some of them hadn't noticed, or didn't think it was important, and the others saw no reason to make Snape more suspicious of their housemate, whom they believed to be innocent. Blaise had been there, of course, but since Theodore chose not to say anything, he kept silent as well; it was only circumstantial evidence, after all, and did nothing to directly link Stewart to the attack.

Aric's parents showed up at the school, shouting angrily at Dumbledore and Snape for letting harm come to their son. They would have taken Aric home for the holidays--in fact, they wanted to pull him out of Hogwarts entirely and send him back to Durmstrang--but strangely enough, Aric insisted that he wanted to stay.

"I won't let anyone drive me away," he said stubbornly. "I won't give them the satisfaction." His parents, though still upset and concerned, were proud of his courage and determination. Even Snape gave him a small, grudging nod of respect, although it was clear that he hadn't forgiven Aric for the Truth Potion incident yet. And if there were other reasons why Aric wanted to stay, reasons why he didn't hate the idea of serving detention with Bleddri at the clinic as much as he pretended to, he did not voice them aloud, or even silently to himself.

Most students who were laid up in the hospital wing received flowers, cards, or candy from their friends, but as Aric had few friends, he received few get-well presents. His parents brought him a vase of flowers when they came to visit, his older sister sent him a card, and Yvonne and a few of her friends sent him a box of candy. And, surprisingly, Lupin brought him a box of Bertie Bott's Beans.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Aric asked.

"Yes, I am," Lupin replied. "But it's possible to be angry with someone and still care about them at the same time." He smiled as Aric gaped at him in confusion. "As angry as I am, I'm still glad to know that you're all right; you gave us all quite a scare. Get some rest, and--" His expression turned a little sterner. "--perhaps you can use the time you're spending in bed to think about your actions."

Lupin left, and Aric absent-mindedly munched on a toffee-flavored bean. "Sanctimonious werewolf," he muttered, still feeling a little confused. He bit into a second bean, which he had thought was chocolate, then gagged and spat it out. "Liver," he muttered disgustedly, and reached for a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth. 

He stared down at the box of beans suspiciously, wondering if Lupin had bought the Every Flavor Beans simply because they were a popular treat, or if he had deliberately chosen them over something more innocuous--say, a box of fudge or Chocolate Frogs, for example. He suddenly remembered the stories Lupin had told the Slytherins in the common room, about the mischief he had gotten into with his friends as a schoolboy "Marauder".

"Stupid werewolf," Aric muttered, but the corner of his mouth quirked up just a little.

*** 

So the attack on Aric went unresolved, at least for the moment, and classes resumed, although the students were a little jittery, and would look around the Great Hall at mealtimes, their expressions thoughtful and a little fearful, as they wondered who had done it. Snape was not entirely sure that a Slytherin wasn't responsible, since Aric's worst enemies were his own housemates, so he took the precaution of warning his Slytherins in his scariest Death Eater voice, "When Mr. Dietrich returns to this dorm, I expect there to be no further 'incidents'. Any troublemakers will answer to me personally--is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," the Slytherins meekly chorused.

Just in case, Snape also made much the same warning to his fourth-year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw Potions class, staring straight at Stewart Ackerley while he delivered his warning. The boy went pale with fear, but so did most of the class, so that wasn't really a confirmation of guilt. Still, Snape came over and whispered to the boy as he was getting ready to leave class as the bell rang, "I'll be keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Ackerley." The boy nearly wet his pants and literally ran out of the classroom. Snape cackled wickedly, hoping that he had at least put a damper on any future "pranks". 

Dumbledore arranged for the remaining Porvoras to be sent to an animal preserve; Hagrid wept as he said goodbye to his pets, but agreed that they would be safer there. The students breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a little safer now that the "living bombs" were gone. Their spirits picked up as the last day of classes passed and the holidays approached. There were no classes on the last official day of school, but rather it was a Hogsmeade day, and the students forgot their worries as they walked down to the village, laughing and gossiping and tossing snowballs at each other. Snape, who was accompanying the students, along with Lupin and several of the other teachers, opened his mouth to shout at them, but McGonagall stopped him.

"Oh, let them be, Severus," she said with a rarely-seen indulgent smile. "They've been under a lot of tension lately; let them work some of it off. A few snowballs never hurt anyone."

Lupin bent down to scoop up some snow, then ran forward to join in on a snowball fight between Crabbe and Goyle and Luna. 

"Oh, for pity's sake!" Snape exclaimed. "Lupin, act your age!"

The werewolf ignored him, laughing and shouting, "Hey, no fair ganging up on me!" as the three students pummeled him with snowballs.

Snape groaned and shook his head as McGonagall laughed.

*** 

Draco entered the small jewelry store in Hogsmeade to pick up his mother's Christmas gift. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy," the proprietor, a dapper and portly gray-haired wizard said. "Your order is ready." He opened a small, velvet-covered jewelry box so that Draco could see the earrings that lay inside: two thin, spiraling strips of silver that curled into a shape vaguely resembling an "S," each with a small teardrop-shaped emerald dangling at the end. Before his family's fall from grace, the emeralds would have been larger, and the earrings would have been made from white gold or platinum, not silver, but while they were not poor, the Malfoys needed to watch their finances a little more carefully now that they no longer had Lucius's income. Still, Draco thought that his mother would be pleased with them. Emeralds were her favorite stone because they matched her green eyes, and he had designed the earrings himself, using the Slytherin House crest as inspiration.

"Do they meet with your approval?" the shopkeeper asked, and Draco nodded. "Would you like them gift-wrapped?"

"Yes, please," Draco said, and while the wizard was wrapping the earrings, he idly browsed around the shop. He still needed to get Serafina's Christmas present, and he wanted it to be something special, to show how much he appreciated all the times she had listened to him rant about his father. He glanced at a display of sapphire jewelry, but they were out of his price range, and besides, they didn't quite match her eyes, which were more violet than blue. 

A nearby display of amethysts were more reasonably priced, and the darker-hued ones would bring out the purple in her eyes. Still, as he examined the various rings, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets, he couldn't really picture her wearing any of them. She never seemed to bother much with her appearance, wearing clean and well-made but plain robes, and never put on makeup or fussed with her hair the way the other girls did. And he had never seen her wearing a piece of jewelry; there was no point in getting her something that she wouldn't wear. The gift should be something that she liked, something that would make her happy.

"Here you are, Mr. Malfoy," the shopkeeper said, handing Draco the box, which was now wrapped in silver foil and a shiny green bow. "Was there anything else you needed?" He winked and added, "A gift for a young lady, perhaps?"

"No," Draco said, flushing. "Um, that's all for today, thanks."

"Well, have a Merry Christmas, then, Mr. Malfoy. Oh--and if you happen to see Professor Snape, tell him that his special order is ready."

"Sure," Draco said distractedly, still trying to figure out what to get for Serafina. "Merry Christmas." He slipped the gift box into his pocket and left the shop. Hmm...candy? No, while she would probably like it, that was hardly something special. He paused and stared across the street at Gladrags Wizardwear. Perhaps a pretty scarf or cloak? No, she didn't care about clothes any more than she did jewelry. Draco groaned in frustration. What the hell was he going to get her? Books were the only things that she really cared about. He supposed that he could get her a book, but a book didn't seem like something special...something meaningful...

"Hello, Draco," said a cheerful voice. "You don't look as though you're feeling very merry; is something wrong?"

Draco looked up to see Lupin's smiling face. He and Snape were standing in front of him; apparently they had just come from Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft's, and Gladrags, judging by the shopping bags that Lupin was carrying. They must be doing their Christmas shopping, too. "Oh, hi Professor," Draco said. "I'm just having a hard time deciding what to buy...um...a certain friend for Christmas."

Lupin smiled knowingly and slipped an arm around Draco's shoulders. He leaned close and whispered, "Would your friend by any chance be Miss Avery?"

"How did you know?" Draco blurted out in surprise.

Lupin chuckled. "Oh, I have my ways, Draco."

Snape snorted. "I'm still not convinced that you're not a Legilimens, Lupin."

"I'm just very observant and perceptive, Severus," Lupin said sweetly, then turned back to Draco. "Hmm, yes, I can see that Sera would be a difficult person to shop for. I assume you want to get her something more personal than a book?" Draco nodded. "Well then, let me think..." Lupin pondered the matter gravely for a couple of minutes, then his face brightened. "Ah! I know just the thing!" He whispered something into Draco's ear.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked dubiously.

"Trust me," Lupin said confidently.

"Well...okay," Draco said. "But I don't think there's one for sale in Hogsmeade."

"Severus?" Lupin asked. "Is it all right if I borrow Mr. Malfoy for a little while? I'm going to take him Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley."

"Fine," Snape said. "I'll stay here; I have a few more errands that I need to run." Snape looked relieved rather than annoyed, and Draco realized that he must need to pick up Lupin's present--in fact, that was probably his "special order" at the jewelry store.

"Do you want to want to Apparate to Diagon Alley?" Lupin asked Draco. "Or if you prefer to take the Floo, I'm sure Madam Rosmerta would allow us to use her fireplace." 

"We can Apparate, Professor; I have my license," Draco replied. "Er...why don't you go on ahead? I'll catch up with you in just a minute."

"Of course," Lupin said with a smile, then handed his packages to Snape. "Here, Severus, would you hold these for me while I'm gone?"

"Do I look like your packhorse?" Snape grumbled, but Lupin had already vanished.

"The jeweler said to tell you that your special order is ready, sir," Draco told his Head of House.

Snape's pale face turned an interesting shade of red. "Ah, thank you, Mr. Malfoy; I'll go pick it up now. You had better go meet Lupin. Oh, and Malfoy--"

"Don't worry, sir," Malfoy said with a grin. "I won't say anything to Professor Lupin."

Snape's face turned even redder and he said gruffly, "Be on your way, then, Malfoy," and hurried over to the jewelry shop. Still grinning, Draco Apparated to Diagon Alley to meet Lupin.

About half an hour later, Lupin and Draco returned to Hogsmeade. Lupin had a few more packages, but Draco was empty-handed.

"Did you not find what you were looking for, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked.

"Oh, I did, sir," Draco said, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Lupin. "But the shop is going to deliver it on Christmas morning." He turned to Lupin. "Thank you very much for your help, Professor."

"It was my pleasure, Draco," Lupin said warmly.

Crabbe and Goyle waved at him from across the street. "Well, thanks again, Professor," Draco said, and ran over to meet them.

"Did you get all your shopping done, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," Snape replied.

"Did you get something for me?" Lupin asked with a mischievous grin.

"Perhaps," Snape said coolly.

"What is it?" Lupin asked playfully, trying to peek in the bags Snape was holding.

"Those are your bags, Lupin," Snape informed him. "You gave them to me to hold, remember? It's not in there. And here, you can take them back."

"C'mon, Sev, just give me a little hint," Lupin coaxed.

"You'll just have to wait till Christmas," Snape said firmly.

Lupin laughed. "Well, I guess I'd rather be surprised, anyway. Shall we go have a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks?"

"All right," Snape said. Lupin slipped his arm through Snape's, and the Potions Master heaved a sigh, pretending to be annoyed. But Lupin smiled up at him with blue eyes full of laughter and a radiant, joyful smile, and for a moment he looked like the fifteen year old boy Snape had first fallen in love with. Snape could not find it in himself to even pretend to scold Lupin, so he allowed the werewolf to lead him through Hogsmeade, still clinging to his arm contentedly. And if a few villagers raised their eyebrows, and a few of the students giggled, well, it was a small price to pay in return for Lupin's smile.

*** 

Lupin and Snape stopped by the Slytherin common room that night for one last visit before they left for Snape Manor. Aric had just been released from the hospital wing, although he had not been allowed to go to Hogsmeade (both because of his condition and his detention), and was sitting beside the fire being fussed over by Yvonne and a few other girls. Lupin had brought a large box of Honeydukes assorted sweets: candy canes, marshmallow snowmen, and chocolates molded in Christmas shapes like trees, wreaths, bells, and Santas.

"It's sort of an early Christmas present," Lupin said with a smile as he passed the box around, "since we'll be leaving tomorrow, and I won't see you again till the Yule Ball."

"Actually, Professor," Pansy said, "we have something for you, too."

"A present?" Lupin asked, sounding delighted. "For me?"

"Yes, sir," Pansy said, grinning. "We'll be right back." She and Millicent ran to their room, then returned with two gift-wrapped packages. Draco had suggested that it might be prudent to buy something small for Snape, too, just so that he didn't feel snubbed. It was unlikely that he would, as Snape was not the sentimental type, and in any case, usually received his annual Christmas bribes from the Slytherin parents, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and the need to curry favor with one's superiors was an ingrained Slytherin trait. 

"For you, sir," Millicent said, handing Snape his gift. "Merry Christmas." From the size, shape, and weight of the box--not to mention the wrapping paper printed with the Honeydukes logo--it was obviously a box of chocolates.

"Ah, thank you," Snape said awkwardly, obviously startled. He couldn't recall ever receiving a present personally from a student, although the parents of his Slytherins normally sent him expensive gifts every Christmas.

"And for you, Professor Lupin," Pansy said, handing Lupin a much larger box. "These are from everyone in Slytherin." 

"Everyone?" Lupin asked, glancing at Aric out of the corner of his eye.

"Everyone," Pansy said emphatically. Aric scowled furiously, but did not contradict her.

"Why, thank you!" Lupin exclaimed, looking very touched. "I didn't expect this. Thank you so much, all of you." The Slytherins all beamed at him, looking very pleased with themselves, except for Aric, who kept scowling.

They passed a pleasant evening, eating candy and drinking hot chocolate, and talking about nothing in particular--just their holiday plans and what they hoped to get for Christmas and who was taking whom to the Yule Ball. No one mentioned tests or grades or near-fatal pranks. 

Patrick Parkinson seemed to take a good deal of pleasure in watching his marshmallow snowman melt in his cocoa. He cackled wickedly as Miriam and Slaine giggled.

"Slytherin humor," Snape told Lupin.

"James and Sirius used to enjoy biting the heads off gingerbread men at Christmas," Lupin chuckled.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Snape muttered.

"Sometimes I worry about you," Pansy told her brother, shaking her head.

"You should worry more about what Mum will say when she finds out who you're going to the Ball with," Patrick said with a grin.

"Oh, drink your cocoa, brat," Pansy said, but in an affectionate manner.

Lupin played cards with some of the students, and Snape played chess with Dylan. Finally, when the younger children (and a few of the older ones) started yawning, Lupin called it a night. 

Snape and Lupin returned to their quarters, and as they walked into the bedroom, Lupin said, "Look up, Sev." Snape glanced up and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

Snape laughed. "You know that isn't really necessary, Remus."

Lupin kissed him lightly on the lips. "I know," he said with a grin, "but I welcome any excuse to kiss you, Severus. And besides, I wanted to get this out of my system before we left Hogwarts. Somehow I doubt that Lady Selima will be happy if I start hanging mistletoe up all over Snape Manor."

Snape laughed again, in a much more wicked manner. "It would almost be worth it, to see the expression on her face!" Then he smiled slyly at Lupin. "So Remus, how long do you suppose it will take to 'get it out of your system'?"

"Oh, a very long time, I'm sure," Lupin said in a husky voice, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck and giving him a much deeper and more lengthy kiss.

"Then we'd better get started," Snape said breathlessly when they finally came up for air.

*** 

Snape, Lupin, and the boys arrived at Snape Manor the next morning after breakfast, laden down with bags and suitcases filled not only with clothes and personal items, but numerous Christmas presents as well. Dylan, although he was no longer single, was still quite popular, and was carrying a shopping bag filled entirely with presents from his fellow students, mainly the female ones.

"Well, aren't you the popular one?" Lupin teased.

"I had twice as many presents last year," Dylan said cheerfully. "Some of my admirers have abandoned me now that I'm no longer available."

In addition to their bags, they were also burdened with the cages containing Dylan's owl and Lupin's pet rat, but they somehow managed to get everything through the Floo in one trip. They stepped out of the fireplace and into the drawing room at Snape Manor, and gasped in surprise. There was a huge Christmas tree, over six feet high, standing in one corner of the room. Vorcher sat on the floor beside it, unpacking cardboard boxes filled with Christmas ornaments. 

When he saw them, he hastily scrambled to his feet and bowed, saying, "Welcome, Master. Vorcher begs the Master's pardon; the Mistress did not expect Master to arrive this early. Shall Vorcher fix tea and breakfast for the Master, the young Master, and their guests?"

"No, thank you," Lupin said politely. "We ate at Hogwarts."

Snape was still staring in shock at the tree. "Mother bought a Christmas tree this year?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Well, it is the Christmas season, after all, Severus," Lupin pointed out.

"My parents were never that big on Christmas, Lupin," Snape replied. "Although they did put up a tree and decorations when my mother was entertaining guests, simply because that was what people expected. But it was all for appearances."

"The Mistress and Master have not put up a tree for Christmas since the Master retired from the Ministry and Master Severus left home," Vorcher said, with just a hint of reproach in his voice. "But the Mistress said we should have a tree this year since Master Severus was coming home for Christmas." Vorcher smiled happily now. "And a Christmas feast!"

"A tree?" Snape asked, still staring at the item in question. "Just because we've come to stay for the holidays?"

"It was a lovely thought," Lupin said, smiling at him warmly. "It's just not Christmas without a tree. My family always had one, even if it was just a scrubby little thing that was more of a branch than a tree."

"It's a great tree!" Dylan said enthusiastically. "Can we help decorate it?"

"Of course," Selima said, entering the room. "That was why I had Vorcher wait until today to bring down the decorations." She gave Lupin a small, ironic smile. "It seemed like the sort of thing a Gryffindor would enjoy."

"I love decorating Christmas trees," Lupin said, grinning back at her, unoffended.

"Me too," added Dylan. "I always helped my mother and uncle and aunt decorate the tree at home." He smiled, a little sadly, and Lupin gave him a hug.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" Lupin asked, and Dylan smiled again, with real pleasure this time.

"Perhaps we should take our bags up to our rooms and get unpacked first?" Snape suggested, and his lover and sons all gave him identical pleading looks. Lupin in particular looked so much like an eager child awaiting Christmas that Snape couldn't help but laugh. 

Even Lady Selima smiled. "I think the unpacking can wait, Severus," she said almost indulgently. "Besides," she added, staring at the overflowing bag of Dylan's Christmas presents, "it seems that you can take care of some of the unpacking right here, once the tree is decorated. It's just as well that I bought a tree this year, or you would have no place to put your presents. The four of you certainly seem to have many friends."

"Oh, those are all Dylan's, Grandmother," Theodore laughed. "He's the most popular boy in the school!"

"You take after your father, I see," Selima said dryly to Dylan, who grinned.

"So everyone says, Lady Selima," Dylan agreed.

Snape watched in bemusement as Lupin and the boys helped Vorcher unpack the Christmas ornaments he remembered from his youth: delicate hand-blown glass spheres of green, red, gold, and silver--all very elegant and tasteful; nothing cute or sentimental like reindeer or Santas or angels. Lady Selima despised "cute," and Snape rather agreed with her, having a vivid memory of Elaine Baddock's collection of round-eyed, childlike, saccharine-sweet angel ornaments; Elaine had appallingly bad taste for a Slytherin.

There was a set of fanciful animal ornaments, though--a phoenix, unicorn, hippogriff, griffin, and several types of dragons, all hand-blown glass in exquisite colors. "How lovely!" Lupin exclaimed, holding up the phoenix, which was wrought in subtle shadings of red and orange that almost seemed to glow with an inner light.

"A gift from Ali," Selima sighed. "Of course."

Snape remembered those ornaments, which Ali had brought back from one of his frequent trading missions when Snape was five years old. Of all Snape's relatives, Ali was the only one who would choose such a whimsical gift. They did not entirely meet with Selima's approval, but since they were more elegant than cute, still merited a place on the tree, if only because they were a gift from a kinsman.

"Perhaps we should put up the tinsel first?" Lupin suggested. 

"No tinsel this year," Vorcher said, smiling proudly. "The Mistress bought these." He opened another box and pulled out a long silver chain, along which were strung clear glass icicles, which tinkled softly against each other like wind chimes.

"I always thought that tinsel was a bit tawdry," Selima said with a disdainful little sniff.

"So realistic-looking," Lupin said, gently laying a finger against one of the icicles. "I almost expect it to feel cold to the touch." They carefully strung the chain around the tree, using a bit of levitation magic to reach the top of the tree. Next Vorcher brought out a set of gold and silver candleholders, and a box of small white candles. "Ah, real candles," Lupin said. The Potter family used to put electric lights on their tree, but he should have realized that a family as steeped in tradition as the Snapes would never stoop to using what they considered "Muggle devices".

"Of course," Selima said, sounding offended. "I would hardly use those crude Muggle electric lights."

Lupin smiled. "When my friend James was a boy, he somehow managed to set the tree on fire while playing with the candles. After that, his parents always used electric lights."

"There is a flame repellant spell set on the tree," Selima said, "and I never leave the candles lit when the tree is unattended. Nor would I leave a small child unattended with a tree full of lit candles. Then again, the Potter boy always got into an inordinate amount of trouble, so perhaps it wasn't entirely his parents' fault."

Snape scowled, recalling that the trouble James Potter got into usually involved himself, and that James usually managed to escape with a slap on the wrist if he received any punishment at all. Everyone always believed the golden boy's word over that of Snape's...well, nearly everyone. Professor De Lacy had of course favored his own House over Gryffindor, and Branwen had never been moved by Potter's charming smile and glib tongue. 

Then Snape looked over at Lupin, who was laughing with the boys as they decorated the tree, looking as eager and excited about the coming holiday as any of the first-years. His scowl eased into a smile, and his resentment dissipated. James Potter was dead, after all, and Snape was alive and well, with Lupin by his side. The golden boy would probably have a fit if he could see his friend spending Christmas with "that slimy git" and two Slytherin foster sons--in the mansion of one of the oldest Slytherin families in the wizarding world, no less. Snape's smile grew a little wider and smugger; yes, it was shaping up to be a very merry Christmas, indeed.

"A word with you in private, if you please, Severus," Selima said softly, interrupting his thoughts.

Startled, Snape glanced at his mother; her face was set in its usual blank, polite mask, which probably did not bode well for him. He silently groaned and followed his mother out of the room, not wanting to disturb Lupin and the boys, who were still preoccupied with decorating the tree. "Yes, Mother?" he asked warily when they were alone.

"I received a call from Priscilla Parkinson this morning at breakfast," Selima replied. "She was ranting about her granddaughter going to the Yule Ball with a Muggle-born boy. I don't suppose you'd care to shed some light on the subject?"

Snape shrugged. "Perhaps I did hear that some Hufflepuff boy had asked Pansy to the Ball. It's hardly my job to keep track of the students' romances."

"Priscilla seems to feel that as Head of Slytherin, you should have prevented this from happening, or at least informed her of it," Selima said, her face still calm and bland.

Snape snorted. "If I tried to keep track of every flirtation and romance in the school, I would have no time left to teach. So long as the students aren't making out in the halls or sneaking out after hours, it's hardly my concern. It is the Parkinsons' job to decide whom their daughter--or granddaughter--may or may not date. If they have failed as parents to raise an obedient daughter, it is their problem, not mine, and you may tell Priscilla I said so."

To Snape's surprise, his mother smirked and said, "Oh, I will, and take great pleasure in doing so. I cannot tell you how many times Priscilla has chided me--ever so gently and for my own good, of course--for allowing my son to stain the family honor, telling me that it is my duty as a mother to make my son behave properly."

Snape smiled with relief. "Well then, that's settled."

"So what do you really know about the situation, Severus?" Selima asked curiously. "Is this a mere act of rebellion on Pansy's part, or is she truly smitten with this Muggle boy?"

Snape shrugged. "Miss Parkinson suddenly seems to have become quite rebellious, but I don't think she's doing this just to shock her family. Her eye has been roving among the young men at Hogwarts ever since her unofficial engagement with Mr. Malfoy was broken off, and she does not care for any of the candidates her parents are considering as possible replacements. She does not wish to make a loveless marriage for wealth, or so she told one of her friends. And she considers the threat of being disowned an empty one because her brother will inherit the estate, anyway. She declares she is quite able to make her own way in the world, although I suspect she doesn't realize how hard that can be, especially for a pampered pureblood girl. Still, she was brave enough to help fight the Death Eaters during the final battle, and she seems quite determined." 

Snape tried to look sour, but couldn't quite hide his amusement. "Lupin and Bleddri have been a bad influence on my students. Branwen, too--by her mere presence, she makes the Slytherin girls wonder why they should not become heads of their families instead of their brothers."

"Would it shock you to learn that I have had that same thought myself a time or two?" Selima asked lightly.

"Not really," Snape admitted with a faint smile. "You have been running the Snape family for years, even if Father was the official Lord, and you would have been heir to the Bashir clan if women could inherit the title."

Selima gave him a small smile and inclined her head in acknowledgment; Snape found it a little odd, though not displeasing, to actually be having a pleasant conversation with his mother. "And this Muggle-born boy?" Selima asked, changing the subject. "What is he like?"

Snape shrugged again. "A typical Hufflepuff, serious and hardworking. Clever enough, though not outstandingly so, the way Dylan or Miss Granger are. Miss Parkinson finds him handsome, and was impressed by his bravery during the final battle. They were only supposed to be tending patients in the field hospital, but were forced to fend off a Death Eater attack, and all the students acquitted themselves admirably, according to the Healer and the other wizards who were there with them. Mr. Finch-Fletchley seems quite smitten with Miss Parkinson, but I'm not sure that this is anything more than a passing fancy on Miss Parkinson's part; she doesn't really know him very well outside of class. It could be that if her parents simply hold their peace and wait it out, she might tire of him and move on to someone else. She was infatuated with Dylan--along with nearly every other girl at Hogwarts--only a few months ago, after all. On the other hand, if the Parkinsons forbid her to see him and threaten disownment, it's quite possible that it will only make Mr. Finch-Fletchley into a more appealing and romantic figure. Most of the Slytherin girls are very fond of torrid romance novels and tragic tales of star-crossed lovers."

"Forbidden fruit is more desirable," Selima said with an ironic little smile. "A concept you should be familiar with." Snape scowled, and his mother said, "Peace, Severus; I meant no offense. We have called a truce, have we not--you and Lupin and I?"

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, relaxing a little. It was something of a miracle, after all, that she had accepted Lupin's presence in his life, and invited the werewolf to spend the holidays at Snape Manor. "But I do not desire Lupin because he is forbidden." He paused, then added, more honestly, "At least, that is not the only reason." He half-expected her to ask what other reasons there might be, but she merely looked thoughtful and said nothing. Actually, she and Lupin had been getting along fairly well recently, and Snape wondered once again what had transpired between them the day of his father's funeral.

Selima blinked, and the thoughtful look vanished from her face. "Let us go check on the others," she said briskly, "and see what they have done with the tree. I hope that the Professor has better taste than most of his fellow Gryffindors. Then again, I suppose he can't really do any damage since he's using our decorations. Do you know that I once saw a tree belonging to a Gryffindor family that was decorated solely with lion-shaped ornaments and red and gold tinsel?"

"Lupin has better taste than most Gryffindors," Snape assured his mother. Then he remembered Lupin's red, lion-printed pajamas, but decided that they reflected more on Dumbledore's poor taste than Lupin's, since they had been a gift from the Headmaster.

"Ah, there you are," Lupin said with a smile, as Snape and his mother returned to the drawing room. "We're just about done; you missed all the fun!"

Selima looked over the tree, nodded approvingly, and said, "Well done." It seemed that despite Lupin's questionable Gryffindor tastes, the tree met with Lady Snape's exacting standards. The various ornaments and candleholders had been neatly and evenly dispersed over the entire tree, with no empty spaces near the bottom of the tree, which most people tended to overlook, or near the top of the tree, where it was hard to reach without using magic. The candles were distributed evenly among the ornaments, and the ornaments had also been carefully arranged so that no two of the same color hung next to each other.

Lupin and the boys smiled proudly. "Thank you," Lupin said. "There's just one ornament left." He held up a star, which unlike the other ornaments, was not made of glass, but had been carved from a large piece of clear crystal; its facets seemed to shimmer as Lupin tilted it slightly to catch the sunlight falling through the window. "I thought perhaps you would like to do the honors, Lord Snape," Lupin said, holding out the star. Snape took it and placed it on the tree; by standing on his toes and stretching his arm up, he could just barely reach the top of the tree without resorting to magic. "There!" Lupin said with satisfaction. "Now it's complete."

"Can we light the candles?" Dylan asked.

Selima smiled; she seemed to be in a remarkably good mood, and Snape wondered whether it was due to the holidays or the gossip they'd shared about the Parkinsons. Well, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed. "We can light them tonight after dinner," Selima said. "It needs to be dark in order to get the full effect."

Vorcher took the empty boxes back up to the attic, and Lupin, Snape, and the boys unpacked their gifts and placed them beneath the tree. Theodore and Dylan couldn't help but notice that some of the gifts Lupin unpacked had their names on them.

"Hmm," Dylan said thoughtfully, shaking one box, which failed to make any noise. "I wonder what it is?"

"Maybe you shouldn't do that," Theodore said half-jokingly. "Remember what happened to Aric when he shook that booby-trapped present!"

"I don't think that Remus would give me a Porvora for Christmas," Dylan said with a grin.

"No peeking," Lupin admonished sternly, shaking a finger at his sons. "You'll just have to wait until Christmas to find out what they are!" But despite his stern tone of voice, his blue eyes glinted with laughter.

"Yes, Remus," the two boys chorused meekly, then grinned at each other.

"I see Hermione gave you a present, Severus," Lupin said pleasantly.

"Yes," Snape said gruffly. "Something utterly useless, no doubt--more knitting, probably."

"I thought the scarf she gave you last year was quite handsome," Lupin said sweetly. "And it would come in handy if, say, we decided to have a snowball fight or build a snowman on the lawn."

Snape snorted. "You may indulge in such childish pastimes if you wish, Lupin, but I have no intention of building a snowman or participating in a snowball fight. In fact, I intend to spend as much time as possible indoors, where it is dry and warm, like any sensible person would."

Lupin smiled nostalgically. "But Severus and I had a splendid snowball fight once, back in fifth year," he told the boys.

"Really?!" they exclaimed, having difficulty picturing that scene.

Snape snorted again. "Lupin started it," he said defensively.

"Well, yes," Lupin admitted. "But you cheated."

Snape smirked. "I told you not to throw that thing at me; you were fairly warned, Lupin. Never mess with a Slytherin."

Dylan and Theodore looked intrigued, so Lupin had to explain the story of how he had thrown a snowball at Snape, who had retaliated by using magic to create a huge snowball that was as big as Lupin. The boys laughed, then glanced out the window at the snow-covered grounds of the Snape estate. "Can we go outside after we get unpacked, Professor?" Dylan asked Snape eagerly.

Snape glanced at his mother, expecting her to object to having something so undignified as a snowball fight to take place on the grounds. Nor had there ever been a snowman built at Snape Manor in Snape's memory, although his mother had once commissioned an artist to create an ice sculpture on the lawn for a Christmas party. But to his surprise, Selima just shrugged and said, "I suppose it's all right. Just don't build any anatomically correct snowmen like your father did."

"You know about that?" Dylan asked, startled.

Selima smiled. "Indeed; gossip has always traveled quickly in the wizarding world. I believe Evan got a week's detention, and his father was furious, although I think his mother was secretly a little amused."

"Anatomically correct snowmen?" Theodore asked, raising his eyebrows.

"A snowman and a snow-woman, to be exact," Snape said dryly. Dylan and Theodore laughed. 

"We'll behave ourselves, Grandmother," Theodore promised with a smile.

"Good," Selima said. "Just make sure you're back inside in time for lunch at noon."

They went upstairs and got unpacked, although Snape suspected that the boys had done only a cursory job of it, considering the haste with which they finished and ran outside, their footsteps clomping noisily as they hurried down the stairs. But Snape felt pleased to see them acting like normal children, eager to play in the snow, so he held his peace and didn't scold them.

Lupin, ever the child at heart, stared after them so wistfully that Snape said, "Oh, go on! I'll finish unpacking."

"Thanks, Sev!" Lupin said gratefully, without even a token protest. "But wouldn't you like to join us?"

"No," Snape said firmly. "The three of you can go catch pneumonia if you wish. As I said, I prefer to stay dry and warm; I shall sit by the fire and catch up on my reading."

"As you wish," Lupin said, looking a little disappointed. He threw on an outer robe of thick, waterproofed wool, put on a pair of wool gloves, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. "I think I'll stop by the kitchen on my way out, and pick up some coal and a carrot for the snowman."

Snape looked at his half-unpacked suitcase and caught a flash of green amidst his black garments; he looked more closely and saw that it was the scarf that Granger had given him for Christmas two years ago. "I don't know how the blasted thing got in here," Snape said gruffly, throwing the scarf at Lupin, "but here, you can use it for your snowman, since I'll never wear it."

"Thanks, Sev," Lupin repeated with a grin, and ran out of the room.

Snape finished unpacking, lit the fireplace in his room with a flick of his wand, and settled down in the chair beside it with his book. It was a rare Potions text that he had recently obtained, but he hadn't had much time to read it, between his teaching duties, his mother's dinner party, and the attack on Aric. He had been looking forward to finding some quiet time to read it during the holidays, and opened the book with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. But strangely enough, he couldn't seem to concentrate, and he had to keep flipping the pages back, because he couldn't remember what he had just read a minute ago. He glanced over at the closed window just as a snowball hit it, causing the glass to rattle in its frame.

Snape set aside the book, strode across the room, and flung the window open. "My mother will have a fit if you break the window, Lupin!" he called down, certain that his sons would have better sense than to do such a thing.

The werewolf grinned up at him, his robes and hair covered with clumps of snow. "Come on out and play, Severus!" Lupin called. "I need some help out here--two against one just isn't fair!" Theodore and Dylan laughed; they did not have nearly so much so much snow on their robes.

Snape leaned out the window, smirking, suddenly feeling much more cheerful. "You need to get over your Gryffindor notions of fairness, Lupin," he retorted. "A Slytherin never plays fair."

"Believe it or not, Severus," Lupin said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I have learned from past experience." And Snape noticed too late that Lupin was holding another snowball in one of his hands; before the Potions Master had a chance to step back from the window, Lupin whipped the snowball up and hit Snape square in the face.

Snape spluttered and wiped the snow from his face, and looked down to see Lupin laughing triumphantly. "Surely your Slytherin pride won't let you pass up that challenge!" Lupin shouted.

Dylan and Theodore just stood there, their eyes wide and round with shock, and they gazed at Snape apprehensively, waiting to see what he would do to Lupin. But then, they were Slytherins, which meant that they had much more sense than their Gryffindor foster father. Snape was pleased to note that the werewolf had not completely corrupted them.

Snape pulled out his wand and gave Lupin a sinister smile. "On the contrary, Lupin, it seems that you have learned nothing from our past encounter." He raised his wand and began chanting an incantation.

"Hey!" Lupin protested. "That's cheating!"

Snape didn't bother to dignify that remark with a response. Theodore and Dylan bolted for cover as a huge pile of snow slid off the roof of the mansion and buried the werewolf beneath it. Snape smiled smugly at the mound of snow, but when Lupin didn't immediately emerge from it, the boys approached, looking worried.

"Remus?" Theodore called. "Are you all right?"

"Do you think he was knocked unconscious?" Dylan asked anxiously. "Maybe we should dig him out."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Snape cautioned, but it was too late. As boys knelt down to dig at the pile of snow, Lupin's arms suddenly shot out, grabbed the startled boys, and pulled them down into the snow with him. Snape sighed and shook his head. "You ought to be ashamed," he said, "letting a Gryffindor trick you so easily!" The boys sat up, wiping snow from their faces, and grinned sheepishly. "Well, he is rather sneaky for a Gryffindor," Snape conceded.

Lupin jumped up and shook himself off, rather like a dog--or wolf. "You shouldn't scold them, Severus," he laughed. "After all, you fell for that trick easily enough when we were boys!"

"I was young and foolish then," Snape said. He sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "I see that I shall have to come down and lend Mr. Rosier and Mr. Snape the benefit of my years of accumulated wisdom and experience."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Lupin protested indignantly. "You were supposed to be helping _me!"_

Snape grinned at him wickedly. "It seems that the boys need my help more. Besides, do you honestly expect me to side against my own House?" He stepped away from the window, ignoring Lupin's continued protests, which could barely be heard over the boys' laughter, and paused only long enough to throw on a cloak and pull on a pair of gloves before Apparating down to join his lover and sons on the lawn.

Lupin fought bravely, like a good Gryffindor, but was no match for three Slytherins, and soon found himself buried under a merciless onslaught of snowballs. "Enough!" he laughed, spitting snow out of his mouth; he was covered with so much snow that he was barely recognizable, with just a few patches of black robe and brown hair showing beneath a thick layer of white. "I give up! I cry mercy!"

"Slytherins have no mercy," Snape informed him with a wicked grin, but nevertheless broke off his attack, and the boys came over to help Lupin dust the snow off his robes. The werewolf shook himself off vigorously once more, splattering Theodore and Dylan in the process.

"Hey!" Dylan protested with a laugh, throwing up an arm to ward off the spray of snow.

"It's worse than having a pet dog," Snape grumbled good-naturedly.

The snowball fight had been quite strenuous, and by now everyone was ready to move on to the more sedate task of snowman-building, although Lupin insisted, over Snape's complaints, that they do it by hand instead of using magic. "What's the point, otherwise?" Lupin asked.

"What's the point in doing unnecessary work?" Snape retorted, but gave in and helped build the snowman, enjoying himself immensely even though he complained loudly the entire time. With the four of them working together, it didn't really take that much effort to build a small snowman, with charcoal eyes and mouth, a carrot nose, and the green scarf wrapped around its neck. Inspired, Dylan and Theodore decided to sculpt a snow-snake next, curved in an "S" shape beside the snowman. They used two pieces of leftover charcoal for the eyes, and Dylan, catching sight of a small, forked twig lying on the ground, had a sudden flash of inspiration and used it as the snake's tongue.

"Very artistic, Mr. Rosier," Snape said approvingly. "Remind me to give Slytherin five extra points when we go back to school."

The boys grinned proudly at each other, and Lupin shaded his eyes with one hand as he looked up towards the sun. "I think it's almost lunchtime," he said. "We'd better go in and get cleaned up before Lady Selima scolds us for being late."

*** 

Selima gazed out of one of the upstairs windows, unnoticed by her son and his companions as she watched them play in the snow together. It was an extremely odd sight, to see her dour and sullen son laughing and throwing snowballs at the werewolf as if he were no older than Dylan and Theodore. She could not recall ever seeing him do such a thing as a child, but then, he'd had no siblings and few playmates as a young boy, and besides, Severin had not approved of children shouting and running wild around the estate. He had always found the Rosiers' visits to the estate annoying, mostly due to Evan, who had been nowhere near as quiet and obedient as Severus. And then Selima suddenly remembered how magical and exotic snow had seemed to a young girl who had lived mainly in a desert country before moving to England. Her parents, like Severin, had not approved of such nonsense as snowball fights, but she'd had the opportunity to play in the snow once she started going to Hogwarts...

*** 

She was walking across the courtyard one morning in December during her first year. Cynric Diggory, then a mischievous second-year boy, was hiding behind a pillar with a stack of snowballs, waiting for unsuspecting victims to stroll by. Before she knew what had happened, Selima was struck in the back of the head with a snowball, and she stumbled and fell forward in the snow. Cynric burst out laughing, and Anya Gravenor, Selima's yearmate, hurried forward to help her up and brush the snow from her robes. "That was mean, Cynric Diggory!" Anya shouted.

Cynric, who had not yet discovered the charms of women, just laughed at his future wife. "And what're you going to do about it, little girl?" he asked, but there was no real malice in his grin.

Selima drew herself up, straightening her spine and attempting to project an air of dignity. "Nothing right now," she replied coolly before Anya could answer. "But I will remember this incident."

A tall, black-haired boy, a handsome third-year Slytherin named Prospero, approached the trio of younger students and gave Selima a smile that held both amusement and respect. "You should apologize, Cynric," he said. "I sense that this young lady would make a dangerous enemy. Besides, a gentleman should never be so rude to a lady."

Anya sniffed disdainfully. "And is he a gentleman?"

"Of course!" Cynric said indignantly. "I am the heir to one of the wealthiest and most respected pureblood families in the wizarding world!"

"Then act like it," Prospero said sternly, and placed his hand on top of the younger boy's head and pushed down.

Cynric did not fight him, but allowed Prospero to propel him forward into a bow, and even added a little courtly flourish by placing one hand over his heart. "I apologize most deeply for my rude behavior, ladies. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me?"

Anya giggled, and Selima replied lightly, "This once I shall forgive you, sir." It would not do to make an enemy of a member of such a prominent family, after all.

The boys laughed good-naturedly. "Perhaps we should allow the ladies a chance at revenge?" Prospero suggested. "A snowball fight, girls versus boys."

"No fair!" Anya objected. "The two of you are bigger and stronger than us!"

Cynric looked pleased and flattered by that statement, and seemed to stand a little taller; Prospero looked amused by his reaction. "You are correct, Lady Anya," he said keeping up his courtly demeanor. "So why don't you partner with Cynric, and I shall partner with Lady Selima, and help her take her revenge on this rogue!"

*** 

And that was how she had met her three closest friends at Hogwarts. Prospero had been a bit of a clown, and rarely took things seriously, but even so, Selima had still been flattered that the older boy had not only defended her, but had known her name when she was, after all, merely a first-year from a family of no importance--at least, not by the standards of the snobbish Slytherin elite. She remembered how cold and crisp the air had been that day, remembered the exhilaration she had felt (enhanced slightly by the thrill of indulging in a game forbidden at home) as she flung snowballs at her companions, not minding at all the cold wetness of the snow, not even when it trickled down her neck or seeped through her wool robes as it melted. Her parents would not have approved, but they had not been there to forbid it, and she had rationalized that she was forming alliances with children from three old pureblood families.

She felt tears sting her eyes, and she closed them until the sensation died away, telling herself that it was foolish to go maudlin over a simple childhood memory. When she opened her eyes and looked out the window again, Severus and the others had abandoned their snowball fight, and were building a snowman on the lawn. She watched the four of them laugh together, watched Lupin affectionately brush some snow off Dylan's hair, watched Severus pat Theodore on the shoulder when the snowman was completed, and suddenly she recalled what Lupin had told her on the day of the funeral: "It's too late to forge the kind of close relationship the Weasleys have with their children; that needs to be built up over a lifetime." 

She had never before desired that kind of close relationship with her son, but as she stared through the window, watching Severus interact with his own son and foster son, she felt a sudden pang of regret for lost opportunities, for what-might-have-been. What would her life be like if she had married Prospero? Perhaps then she would not have closed off her heart, and Severus would have had a loving mother and father...except that Severus would not be Severus if she had married Prospero. She told herself that it was Prospero's fault that she had not been able to love Severus as a mother should, but a niggling little voice in her head told her that she was not being completely honest. 

There had been one moment in her marriage when she had felt something akin to passion, something that was almost affection, the night that she and Severin had been elated over his promotion, the night that they had conceived Severus. She realized now that if she and Severin had tried, they might have been able to build a real marriage together, but they had let the moment pass, and returned to their comfortable, impersonal routine, their lives running on a parallel course--living alongside each other, yet always apart. 

She had told herself that there was nothing left for her but duty after she and Prospero parted, but that was not entirely true--there had still been room in her heart for Anya, her childhood friend. Perhaps if she had tried harder, she could have loved Severus, too. And even if she was incapable of love, she could have protected him better. For the first time, she truly felt remorse for not protecting Severus from his father's punishments, for doing nothing when he had been accused of being a Death Eater. She had told herself that it was her duty to obey her husband, but it was also a mother's duty to protect her child. She had made the choice to follow the path of duty and marry Severin, after all--as bitter as that choice was, and as limited as her options were, it had still been her own choice--while Severus had never chosen to be born into a pureblood family, to parents who were bound to each other by duty and politics, not love. No more than Selima had chosen to be born into a family that saw her as nothing more than a pawn to be bartered off to gain an advantageous marriage alliance.

She suddenly felt very weary, and leaned against the window for support, the glass cold beneath her cheek and hands. She gazed down at her son and whispered, "I'm sorry," although she knew that he could not hear her. She wasn't sure if she would ever have the courage to say it to his face.

She just stood there, leaning against the glass for--she did not know how long; most likely several minutes, although it felt like hours--until an anxious voice said, "M-Mistress?" Startled, Selima turned around to see a worried-looking Vorcher standing in the doorway. "Is the Mistress ill?" the house-elf asked.

"No, I am fine," Selima said briskly. "I am--a little tired, that is all."

"Shall Vorcher prepare some tea for the Mistress?" 

"Yes, thank you," Selima replied distractedly, not noticing that she had thanked a servant who wasn't supposed to warrant thanks. Nor did she notice that Vorcher looked even more worried by her response, because she was looking out the window again; Lupin seemed to be indicating to the others that they should head back to the house. "And prepare some hot cider as well," Selima added, turning back towards the house-elf. "Likely Severus, Professor Lupin, and the boys will be chilled after spending so much time in the snow all morning."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher said, bowing. "Vorcher will see to it at once. And lunch will be ready in five minutes, Mistress."

"Good," Selima said. "You may bring the tea and cider, along with lunch, to the dining room as scheduled."

*** 

Lupin, Snape, and the boys ran up to their rooms and stripped off wet outer robes, cloaks, gloves, and scarves; cast a few quick drying spells; then hurried downstairs to the dining room just as the clock struck noon. They were pleasantly surprised to find Vorcher not only serving lunch, but setting out mugs of hot, steaming cider.

Lupin cradled a mug in his hands, taking a moment simply to appreciate the heat seeping into his still-cold hands. Then he took a sip of the cider and sighed with satisfaction as the warmth spread through the rest of his body. "Ah, Vorcher, this really hits the spot!" he said gratefully. "Thank you very much."

Vorcher smiled, looking pleased. "You're welcome, Master Lupin. It was the Mistress's idea."

Lupin smiled at Selima. "Then, I must thank you also, Lady Selima. It was a kind thought."

Selima looked embarrassed, and Snape quipped, "There's no need to be so offensive, Lupin. Most Slytherins consider 'kind' an insult rather than a compliment."

Lupin laughed. "I assure you, Lady Selima, no offense was intended!"

"Then I shall take none, Professor," Selima said, graciously inclining her head. "Although I would consider it more practicality than kindness--I would not wish the Lord or his heir to catch a cold, after all."

"Of course not," Lupin said gravely, although his eyes were still sparkling with laughter. "But you need not have worried, since I suffered the brunt of the attack in our snowball fight. I'm afraid that one Gryffindor werewolf is no match for three wily Slytherins." The three Slytherins exchanged wicked grins.

"That goes without saying," Selima replied, and everyone laughed, including Lupin. "Well, go ahead and eat," Selima added, "before the food gets cold."

Lunch was surprisingly simple fare (at least by Snape Manor standards), and was perfect after a morning spent playing in the snow: hot soup and fresh bread, still warm from the oven. There was sweet, creamy butter to go with the bread, and also platters of sliced cheese and fruit on the side. Snape, Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan all ate heartily, having worked up an appetite from their snowball fight and snowman-building, and did not notice at first that Lady Selima seemed oddly subdued.

It was Lupin, of course, who finally did notice that while the rest of them were almost finished eating, Selima's bowl of soup was still more than half-full, and that she was absent-mindedly shredding a slice of bread into crumbs without eating any of it.

"Lady Selima?" he asked in a concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

She looked up, startled, and dropped the remainder of the bread onto her plate. "Of course, Professor," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that you've barely touched your food," Lupin said. "I was wondering if you might be feeling ill."

By now, Snape, Theodore, and Dylan were staring at Selima as well, and she looked a little flustered, then gained control of herself again. "Of course not," Selima replied in her usual cool voice. "I'm just not very hungry at the moment. After all, I didn't spend all morning running around in the snow like the rest of you."

Snape, who had begun to look worried, relaxed and said, "Mother has better sense than you, Lupin."

"You were running around in the snow, too, Severus," Lupin pointed out with a smile.

"Only to protect the boys from you," Snape retorted.

"They were the ones ganging up on me!" Lupin protested as Theodore and Dylan laughed.

"You know, Severus," Selima said, changing the subject, "now that Theodore is your heir, we should consider introducing him into society."

"Not more dinner parties!" Snape groaned.

"He needs to begin building alliances and forming connections," Selima said firmly.

"He's already doing that at school," Snape argued desperately, "by socializing with his classmates."

"All well and good, Severus, but we should also be making allies of their parents. And there are other pureblood families whose children do not attend Hogwarts--"

"It's his final year at Hogwarts!" Snape insisted. "He needs to concentrate on his N.E.W.T.s!"

Theodore glanced nervously back and forth from his father to his grandmother, who both looked equally stubborn and determined. "Um...perhaps we could keep the socializing minimal until I graduate?" he suggested diffidently. "Then maybe later, in the summer..."

"Well, perhaps you're right," Selima conceded. "Your N.E.W.T.s are important, but you will also find that well-placed connections can be more valuable than good grades."

"Yes, Grandmother," Theodore said meekly. "But the Snape family does already have some valuable allies: Harry Potter, the Weasleys, the Donners, and Professor Blackmore and her husband." If he felt any distaste about claiming certain Gryffindors as allies, he kept it well hidden.

"True," Selima agreed, looking much calmer. "I suppose we can keep the socializing minimal for now." She turned to her son and added sternly, "But not cut it off entirely. You cannot afford to be a recluse the way your father was if you want your son to hold a proper position in society."

"Yes, Mother," Snape growled reluctantly.

"And after Theodore finishes school," Selima added happily, "we can hold a graduation party for him!"

Lupin smiled, looking amused, and Snape repressed a groan. They had won a temporary reprieve, but had only delayed the inevitable. Theodore did not look entirely happy about the prospect of parties and socializing, but he seemed resigned to it, and not nearly as dismayed as Snape was. But then, as a Nott, he had taken part in such socializing and political maneuvering for all of his young life, doing his duty as a pureblood heir even if he did not particularly enjoy it. He took it for granted, the way most of his peers did, and was really much better suited to being the Snape heir than Snape himself had been.

"I would be honored, Grandmother," Theodore said politely, and Selima gave him an approving smile. 

And in the end, Selima agreed to hold no parties during the holidays, although she intended to invite some of her acquaintances over for tea. It was agreed that if Snape would greet her guests politely as the Lord of the Manor should, he would be allowed to excuse himself from the actual tea, pleading a heavy workload of preparing lesson plans and tending to the affairs of the estate. A private feast for the family only would be held on Christmas Eve, since Snape, Lupin, and the boys would be attending the Yule Ball on Christmas night. Snape and his mother relaxed and finished their meals, having achieved a bargain that was satisfactory to both sides. Snape mused to himself that perhaps he did inherit some of his mother's merchant instincts, after all.

The rest of the day passed by peacefully: Selima went out to do some shopping; Dylan and Theodore went to the library to read more of the old Snape histories, and later played some chess; and while Lady Snape was gone and the boys were preoccupied, Snape and Lupin locked themselves in their room and made love. By the time Selima returned home, Snape and Lupin were dressed and decorously sipping tea in the drawing room with the boys, the very picture of respectability. Dressed in the expensive dark blue robe Snape had given him one Christmas, with his gold-and-silver hair pulled back into a neat tail, Lupin could have passed for a pureblood Lord himself, if one had not known his true identity. Perhaps they looked a little too respectable, because Selima gave them a suspicious look, but she joined them for tea without comment.

Later that night after dinner, they went to the drawing room, and as promised, Selima lit the Christmas tree candles with a sweeping wave of her wand. Each facet of the crystal star at the top of the tree reflected and magnified the dim flames of the candles, sending a blaze of light through the darkened room.

Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan gasped in awe. "It's so beautiful!" Lupin exclaimed.

This sight was familiar to Snape, of course, but he had never really appreciated it until now. Christmases at Snape Manor had not been particularly happy occasions for him as a child; they had merely been another excuse for his mother to throw one of her parties and do more political maneuvering. But seeing the awe and delight on the faces of his lover and sons made Snape regard the tree in a new light. Even Lady Selima was smiling slightly, looking almost mellow--a dramatic change from her normal stiff, dignified manner, although a stranger probably would not have noticed the difference. He wondered if it could be possible that even Selima was not immune to being infected by the werewolf's Gryffindor sentimentality.

"Yes, Lupin," Snape said softly. "It is beautiful."

Selima lit a fire in the fireplace, and they sat in the drawing room together, admiring the tree. Vorcher served them mulled wine and squares of freshly-baked gingerbread cake topped with dollops of whipped cream. He then quietly retreated to the far corner of the room, waiting unobtrusively to clear away the dishes when they were done, or to obey any other instructions the Master or Mistress might give. Even the house-elf looked blissfully content as he gazed not just at the tree, but at the five humans in the room. They said little as they sipped their wine and ate their gingerbread, but the silence seemed comfortable rather than awkward.

After everyone said goodnight, and Snape was alone with Lupin in their room, he said what he had been unable to say earlier in front of the others. "The tree is beautiful, Remus--and so are you." 

Lupin smiled at him tenderly. "You're such a sweet-talker, Severus Snape."

"It's true," Snape said, reaching up to loosen the ribbon holding Lupin's hair back. The werewolf didn't often wear his hair in a ponytail, and Snape much preferred it loose, but there was a certain pleasure in watching Lupin's golden-brown hair suddenly spill across his shoulders. He couldn't resist running his hands through Lupin's hair, reveling in the sensation of silk sliding through his fingers. Lupin sighed, his eyes closing with pleasure, and he tilted his head back slightly to encourage the motion.

"The tree looked beautiful to me," Snape continued, still stroking Lupin's hair, "because I could see it through your eyes. I always hated coming home to Snape Manor, but now I find that I'm happy to be here, because you and Theodore and Dylan are with me."

Lupin opened his eyes. "I'm glad, Severus," he said softly.

Snape let his hands drop to Lupin's shoulders, and gently pulled Lupin towards him; the werewolf leaned willingly into his embrace. He pressed his mouth against Lupin's, and slid his tongue between Lupin's parted lips; Lupin's mouth tasted of cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg--the spices in the mulled wine they had been drinking earlier. They stayed like that for a long time, lips pressed together, tongues entwined, until they finally had to come up for air, gasping for breath.

Snape began to undress his lover at a much less hurried pace than he usually did, pausing to kiss every inch of exposed skin as he slowly peeled back Lupin's robe and shirt. As always, he paid special attention to Lupin's throat as the werewolf tilted his head back again, lightly kissing the hollow of Lupin's throat before catching the skin there between his teeth, gently nipping and sucking; Lupin moaned. Snape remembered to stop and cast a silence spell on the room before they proceeded any further, although at the moment, he didn't really care that his mother was upstairs or that the boys were just a few rooms down the hall.

By the time Lupin's robe and shirt lay discarded on the floor, and Snape was kneeling before him unfastening his trousers, Lupin could no longer stand that excruciatingly slow pace and growled impatiently. He pushed Snape's hands away, and quickly divested himself of the rest of his clothing, then set to work on divesting Snape of his, growling as he fumbled with fastenings and buttons, his fingers made clumsy with eagerness and lust.

"Down, boy," Snape said with a smile, and Lupin snarled at him playfully. That snarl and the sight of Lupin's canine teeth, sharp and pointed, almost but not quite fangs, excited him further. He kissed Lupin again, running his tongue across those teeth, and Lupin let out a muffled whine. Snape struggled out of his clothes with Lupin's help as they stumbled towards the bed, their kisses and caresses growing more urgent. Moving backwards blindly with Lupin in his arms, Snape felt the backs of his knees strike the bed, and he allowed himself to fall back in a sitting position, and pulled Lupin down onto his lap.

Lupin growled, his voice low and soft, his breath tickling Snape's ear and sending a shiver down his spine. Then he felt Lupin's sharp teeth pressing into the skin of his neck, and desire pulsed through his body, as his blood pulsed through the vein that rested just beneath Lupin's mouth. He sighed, wrapping one arm around Lupin's waist, holding him close, and reaching up with his free hand to firmly entwine his fingers in Lupin's long hair, filled with complete love and trust; he wondered now how he could ever have feared Lupin, werewolf or not. Then the pressure of Lupin's teeth eased, leaving a bruise but not puncturing the skin, and Lupin lifted his face so that their lips met again.

They continued to kiss and caress, hands and mouths roaming freely over each other's bodies until they were both dizzy with desire and need. "Now, Severus, please," Lupin groaned. Snape reached over to the nightstand drawer, still keeping one arm wrapped around Lupin, and pulled out a familiar-looking jar of lavender oil; Lupin grinned. "My, how foresightful of you, Severus, to have that so handy, considering that we just unpacked and moved in this morning."

"One of us needs to be practical, my love," Snape purred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "And since you're a Gryffindor--" His voice managed to turn the word into a loving insult. "--that leaves only me."

"How fortunate that you're a Slytherin, then," Lupin laughed, then gasped as the scent of lavender filled the air and he felt Snape's fingers, cool and slippery with the oil, sliding inside him. Snape kept his eyes fixed on Lupin's face, drinking in the sight of his lover moaning with pleasure and abandon, face flushed and eyes squeezed shut with ecstasy--it was far more intoxicating than the wine they had been drinking earlier. He wanted to throw the werewolf down on the bed and take him right then and there, but all the years he had spent as a pureblood heir and a Death Eater had taught him a few useful things--patience and discipline among them. And besides, the anticipation would only make fulfillment sweeter when it finally came. So he kept a rein on his own desire while he pleasured his lover, the werewolf rocking back and forth on his lap, until low, drawn-out moans gave way to quick pants, and Lupin gasped, breathless with desire, "No more, Severus! I need you now, please!" 

Snape grinned, withdrew his fingers, and reached for the jar again. He slicked the oil over himself slowly, enjoying the sensation, although it would be much more pleasurable to feel himself buried deep in Lupin's body. Still, he took his time about it, because he was enjoying the way that Lupin was staring at him with hungry, dilated eyes, whimpering and licking his lips impatiently. Apparently he was taking too long, because the werewolf suddenly growled and pounced on him, and before Snape knew what had happened, he found himself flat on his back with Lupin straddling him.

Hmm; he would have to remember that a werewolf could only be pushed so far--not that he minded the position he found himself in. "It's not the full moon yet, Lupin," Snape laughed. The werewolf's only response was another growl, and then he kissed Snape hard, sealing their mouths together, driving his tongue between Snape's lips. Snape arched up off the bed, raising his hips while Lupin lowered himself down, and Snape found himself sliding into his lover's warm and willing flesh, and both of them broke off the kiss to groan. 

Lupin placed his hands on Snape's chest, bracing himself as he slowly lifted himself up, and then lowered himself back down again. Snape lightly raked his nails down Lupin's back, and the werewolf whined and increased the pace slightly. Encouraged, Snape thrust up into Lupin with a quick, sudden snap of his hips, and Lupin cried out wildly, his blue eyes flying wide open with shock and pleasure, but they were glazed and unseeing. 

And then those eyes did look down and focus on Snape, but there was little human awareness behind them, only the animal instinct of the wolf. Lupin snarled, baring his teeth, and they both lost control, Snape thrusting up as hard and fast as he could, and Lupin slamming his body downwards to meet those thrusts with just as much urgency. Fighting the urge to close his eyes and let the pleasure simply wash over him, Snape forced himself to keep them open so that he could watch Lupin and see the love and need and sheer lust in those pale blue eyes. 

The werewolf was growling incoherently, and Snape could hear himself calling out Remus's name over and over again as he reached up and began stroking Lupin's erection, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts, but his brain was fogged with lust and it took too much effort. So he simply lay back and let Lupin ride him, focusing his energy on stroking Lupin and bringing him to climax, which happened quickly enough. Lupin slammed his hips down one last time, then threw back his head and howled as he came, and Snape found himself coming too, as the howl of the wolf still echoed in his ears.

A few minutes later, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, sticky and sweaty, but extremely happy and sated. Lupin nuzzled Snape contentedly and whispered, "It's sort of naughty when you think about it, isn't it? Making love in your childhood bedroom, I mean."

Snape chuckled. "If I had known you would find it so stimulating, Lupin, I would have brought you to Snape Manor sooner."

"Still," Lupin said, "Lady Selima has been remarkably tolerant of us lately."

"Please, Lupin," Snape said with a pained look. "I would rather not discuss my mother in bed, if it's all the same to you."

Now it was Lupin's turn to chuckle. "Sorry, Sev," he said, giving Snape a quick kiss.

"I forgive you," Snape said magnanimously; he felt too lazy and content to bother with scolding the werewolf, anyway. Lupin chuckled again and snuggled a little closer. It suddenly occurred to Snape that he finally had everything he had ever wanted, everything that had made him so jealous of Potter and Black: he had a family that loved him--a very odd family, one of choice rather than blood, but a family nonetheless; he had friends--Lupin, Branwen, Dumbledore, and Kamiyama--and maybe even Bleddri and Black could be included on that list; and most of all, he had Lupin. 

He was filled with joy, and at the same time, a sense of terror that it could all disappear at any moment; for Snape, happiness was still a relatively unfamiliar and fragile feeling. He pulled Lupin closer, holding him tightly, trying to reassure himself that Lupin was real and not a dream that would vanish in the morning.

It seemed that Lupin was not a Legilimens after all, because for once he mistook Snape's intent, and sighed happily. He pressed his face against Snape's neck and growled softly, "Mine," his voice barely audible, but smugly content and fiercely possessive.

And then Snape relaxed, and the fear drained out of him as suddenly as it had emerged. "I love you, Remus," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Severus," Lupin replied tenderly, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, untroubled by bad dreams or memories of the past.

*** 

The days leading up to Christmas passed by quickly and pleasantly for the most part. There were more snowball fights, and Vorcher would always have hot cider or cocoa or mulled wine waiting for them afterwards. Dylan went through the Floo to the Donner estate in Wales to drop off the gifts for his great-uncle, aunt, and cousin, and also to pick something up, although he wouldn't say what it was. But later that day, he sent his owl Blodwen with a gift-wrapped package to Hogwarts.

Selima's "friends" dropped by for tea on a couple of occasions, and Snape greeted them politely as he had promised his mother he would, although he could see the gleam of malicious curiosity in their eyes, and knew that they would take delight in gossiping about him behind his back later. But although it annoyed him, he was used to being gossiped about, ever since his Death Eater days, and he took some comfort in knowing that they would feel the sharp edge of Selima's tongue if they dared to bad-mouth him to her face. He knew his mother well enough to know that however much she might disapprove of his lover and his lifestyle, she would never allow any insult to the Lord of the estate--and hence, the family honor--to pass unchallenged. 

Of course, that didn't mean that Snape wouldn't also face Selima's wrath later in private, for putting her in such a position. But as it turned out, Selima did not scold him after her tea sessions, so perhaps her pureblood associates had more sense than he had thought. Perhaps it helped that Lupin discreetly made himself scarce when company came, retreating to their room to work on the carving he was making for Theodore's Christmas present. 

"No sense in antagonizing your mother, after all," Lupin said cheerfully, as thin, curling strips of wood fell away from his knife as he carved. "I know that they know I'm here, but as long as I stay out of sight, we can pretend that I'm not, and that your scandalous werewolf lover does not exist."

Snape stared at Lupin with a combination of respect and worry. "Yes, Slytherins are very good at participating in a mutual lie for the sake of appearances. You're beginning to think like us, and that scares me a little."

Lupin laughed. "Well, perhaps there has always been a bit of Slytherin in me." A bittersweet smile crossed his lips. "I have a lot of experience with lying, after all. I pretended for years to be a normal, if rather sickly, human. I lied to my friends, sneaking around behind their backs to see you in fifth year. And I lied to myself, pretending not to notice when they taunted and harassed you, pretending that there was nothing I could do to stop them. I overlooked the part of them that I hated, because I was scared to lose the part of them that I loved. I told myself that the one outweighed the other, but was that really true?"

Lupin looked troubled and guilty, and he had stopped carving, his hands resting still on his lap. Snape gently pulled the knife and piece of wood out of his grasp and set them aside, then clasped Lupin's hands in his own. "You may have done a lot of lying, but you are very bad at it, Remus," Snape said with a faint smile. "Everyone knows you are a werewolf now, and the Marauders figured it out before you were even fifteen. Black figured out that we were seeing each other back in fifth year, and in hindsight, I think Dumbledore and Branwen knew, too. And as bad as you are at lying to other people, you are even worse at lying to yourself, or you wouldn't have felt so guilty about what your friends did to me."

"But I--" Lupin started to say.

Snape laid a finger over his lips to still his protests. "I'm not saying that I forgive them. Well, maybe I forgive Sirius, but not Potter or Pettigrew. But if you overlooked the Marauders' faults, you also overlooked mine. You overlooked all the times I hurt you, even when I exposed your lycanthropy to the school and cost you your job. You overlook all my little--and not so little--faults: my bad temper and sarcasm, my love for the Dark Arts, and my sneaky Slytherin ways in general."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said tenderly, "you're wrong about that. I never overlooked what you call your faults, your sneaky Slytherin ways. I have always seen them, and I love you for them. They are part of what makes you what you are. I love you, all of you, just as you love the wolf in me."

Snape stared at Lupin in shock; to think that all these years, he had been so jealous of the Marauders, because he had believed that Lupin loved them better than him! But if what Lupin had just said was true, it almost seemed like it was the other way around: he loved Snape completely, even the most selfish and bitter parts of him, but however dearly Lupin had loved the Marauders, he had not loved or accepted the arrogance and cruelty in his friends, even though it was mainly due to the callowness of youth and the prejudices their families had taught them. 

If he was going to be completely honest with himself (which was a rare occurrence), Snape had to admit that many of his own Slytherins, Draco in particular, had been no better than the Marauders, just a little more subtle. All these years, he had longed to be first and foremost in Lupin's heart, and it seemed that he had been all along. That realization completely floored him, and he just sat there staring at Lupin, speechless, his eyes filled with wonder.

"I don't think that I could love you the way I do if you were all sweetness and light, Severus," Lupin said gravely, although there was a gentle smile on his lips. "There is a little darkness in me that I think is drawn to the darkness in you."

"Even if you're a werewolf, you're not--" Snape started to say.

Lupin shook his head. "I don't mean the fact that I'm a Dark Creature," he interrupted. "I mean that you understand, as I do, what it feels like to be despised, to be an outcast, to feel so lonely that the despair eats away at your soul. As much as I loved James, I could never have fallen IN love with someone like him, who had lived a safe and happy and sheltered life, who had never really experienced pain and suffering. He was kind and compassionate to me, he felt sympathy for the way that I suffered, but he could never truly understand what it was like." Lupin sighed. "Although I guess he learned enough about suffering when Voldemort started killing off his family."

"Lupin, I...I...I..." Snape stammered.

Lupin smiled and reached up to cradle Snape's face between his hands. "So you see, my snarky Slytherin," he said affectionately, "you are the only one for me. You always have been."

"I love you, Remus," Snape said in a hoarse voice, too choked up to speak any louder than a whisper. 

"And I love you, Severus," Lupin replied, and leaned forward and kissed Snape; a long, slow, and infinitely sweet kiss. "Do you want to...?" Lupin asked coyly, his voice trailing off as he let his eyes slide towards the bed.

Snape hesitated, then said regretfully, "We'd better not, just in case my mother decides to summon me into her presence while her guests are here. It would be very bad if I ran downstairs looking like I've just risen from bed."

"Well, I suppose I should finish Theo's carving first, anyway," Lupin sighed, then smiled at Snape. "A rain check, then?"

"So long as I can claim it tonight," Snape said with a grin.

"Agreed," Lupin said, sealing their bargain with a quick kiss on the lips.

"My mother was wrong when she said you would make a good merchant," Snape said slyly. "A true merchant would bargain for better terms."

Lupin smiled at him seductively. "Perhaps I intend to renegotiate our contract when you're in bed, and more amenable to my terms."

Snape laughed out loud. "I take it back!" he said. "You would rival any Bashir as a merchant, even Ali!"

Lupin laughed, then said in a more serious tone, "By the way, Severus...it means a lot to me that you've forgiven Sirius. Thank you."

"Yes, well," Snape said gruffly, "he's still a moron, but I suppose I have to get along with him for your and Branwen's sakes."

"You've even started calling him by his first name," Lupin said with a smile, and Snape stared back at him blankly. "Just now," Lupin reminded him, "you said, 'I forgive Sirius,' not 'I forgive Black'."

Snape felt his face turn red. "Oh, don't read so much into it, Lupin!" he growled. "It's a mere slip of the tongue, nothing more." Lupin just grinned, obviously not fooled by Snape's bluster, and the Potions Master sighed and relented. "Well, it's not like I consider him my best friend or anything," Snape grumbled, "but he did apologize to me about what he did back in school, which is more than Potter senior or Pettigrew ever did. But the real reason that I forgave him was because he stood by Draco and Narcissa after the final battle, and shielded them from the Aurors. That was what told me that he had really changed, and that his apology was more than mere words."

Lupin flung his arms around Snape and hugged him tightly. "I love you so much, Severus Snape!" he whispered fiercely.

"I love you, too, Remus," Snape replied. "But I will turn you into a wolfskin rug if you ever repeat what I just said to Black!"

It was an empty threat, but Lupin kissed him on the cheek and said, "It will be our little secret, Sev." Then he picked up his knife and resumed working on the half-finished carving. Snape was content to just sit there and watch him, delighting in the way that Lupin's long gold-and-silver hair fell across his face as he bent his head forward to gaze intently at the piece of wood in his hands, and delighting in the way that Lupin managed to turn a simple block of wood into what looked like a living creature with a few strokes of his knife. And most of all, he delighted in the way that Lupin would glance up every now and then to smile at him lovingly.

*** 

The day Priscilla Parkinson came over for tea did not go quite so smoothly, but neither was it a disaster; in fact, Snape quite enjoyed himself. He greeted her with cool but polite formality, as befit the Lord of the Manor, and was about to excuse himself when Priscilla said in an icy voice, "It is disgraceful, what is going on at the school these days!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, carefully keeping his expression bland, and asked in a mildly curious voice, "And to what might you be referring, Mrs. Parkinson?" 

"Didn't we already have this talk, dear?" Selima murmured, projecting just the slightest hint of patience being tested in her voice. It was all a sham, however; there was a faint gleam of amusement in her dark eyes, perceivable only by someone who knew her very well.

"I'm talking about Slytherins mingling with Mudbloods, of course!" Priscilla snapped. "Your own foster son, Severus, is setting a bad example, dating that Mudblood girl!"

Snape shrugged indifferently. "Mr. Rosier takes after his father, I suppose--turning a simple schoolboy romance into high drama. But it doesn't really matter whom he offends, being heir to two estates. He is already Lord outright of the Rosier estate, his title confirmed by the Ministry of Magic, and Lord Donner is hardly likely to disown him for taking up with a Muggle-born girl. Mathias has a soft heart, and he's an idealist like Dumbledore."

"And don't you care what the boy does, Severus?" Priscilla fumed. "He is your ward, after all."

Snape shrugged again. "I find the wench to be extremely annoying, but she has her uses. She is a talented potion-brewer, and she has close ties to Harry Potter and the Weasleys. It does no harm to have allies in the Savior of the Wizarding World and the Minister of Magic."

Priscilla fumed even more, her fair skin turning red with anger. Behind her back, the corners of Selima's mouth curved up just a fraction of an inch, in what was almost a smile. "Well, maybe you don't care what Dylan Rosier does, Severus, but I care very much that my granddaughter is going to the Yule Ball with that Mudblood Hufflepuff boy!"

"Well," Snape said indulgently, "it is to be expected that Dylan will run a little wild; his father died before he was born, and Ariane spoiled the boy--it is not surprising, after all, for a young widowed mother to lavish devotion upon her only son. But I am indeed surprised by Pansy's behavior--a well brought up pureblood girl, running around with a Mudblood boy." He clucked his tongue in disapproval, and his mother's smile grew a little wider. "At least, I had assumed that she was too well brought up to do such a thing. A child's behavior reflects upon their parents' upbringing, do you not agree, Mother?"

"Oh, indeed, Severus," Selima said as Priscilla swiveled around to glare at her. She smiled with false sweetness at the other woman and said, "At least, that is what Priscilla always says."

Priscilla spluttered with rage, unable to get a coherent word out, and Snape decided that it would be a good time to make his escape. He bowed slightly and said, "I pray you excuse me, ladies. I have some matters of the estate to attend to, as well as lesson plans to prepare for the coming term."

"Of course, Severus," Selima said pleasantly.

"Then please enjoy your tea, Mother. And happy holidays to you, Mrs. Parkinson." Snape bowed again and swept out of the room while Priscilla was still spluttering. As soon as he was out of sight, he allowed a wide grin to spread across his face as he hurried up the stairs to his room and to Lupin, humming a Christmas carol under his breath.

*** 

On Christmas Eve, Selima set out candlesticks on the dining room table, and had Vorcher lay out the good china and crystal, and everyone dressed up in their good robes. Lupin wore his favorite robe of plush blue wool embroidered with gold and silver thread along the edges, a gift from Snape. Selima wore the same green velvet robe that she had worn to the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and Lupin gallantly told her that she looked beautiful. Snape nearly fainted when Selima smiled and replied, "Thank you, Professor. You're looking quite distinguished yourself tonight."

"Severus picked out this robe for me," Lupin said cheerfully.

"I am glad to see that my son is not completely lacking in taste," Selima said with a straight face, and Snape was not sure whether he had just been complimented or insulted, but decided that it was probably better to leave well enough alone.

They had a splendid feast by candlelight; the main course was roast beef, browned on the outside and tender, pink, and succulent on the inside. Lupin and Snape exchanged a smile, their eyes filled with laughter at a private joke, recalling a night they had spent at Grimmauld Place the year before, when Lupin in his wolf form had begged for roast beef from the dinner table, and even gnawed contentedly on the bone. "It's a good thing that the full moon has already passed," Snape whispered. "My mother would not appreciate having a wolf at the dinner table." Lupin laughed, and Selima gave them a suspicious look.

Dessert was a plum pudding; Vorcher brought it to the table already doused in brandy and set aflame. Lupin smiled and clapped his hands together in delight like a child; the boys looked as though they would have done the same if not for their Slytherin dignity. "Oh, how wonderful!" he exclaimed. "A Christmas pudding!"

"Of course, Master Lupin," Vorcher said, but he looked pleased by Lupin's reaction. "It is Christmas, after all, and a proper feast must be served, since Master Severus has come home this year." The flames were extinguished, and Vorcher sliced the pudding and served it along with a cream sauce.

"This is wonderful, Vorcher!" Lupin said, after chewing and swallowing his first bite. "You've truly outdone yourself with this feast!"

The house-elf beamed with pride, and bowed and said, "Thank you, Master Lupin." Snape had to lift a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. How quickly Vorcher had gone from regarding Lupin with disapproval to falling under his spell as nearly everyone else did! He cast a sidelong glance at his mother to see her reaction, and somehow he was not entirely surprised to see a look of ironic amusement on her face. 

"Ouch!" Theodore cried as he bit into his pudding.

"Are you okay, Theo?" Dylan asked.

Theodore pulled a silver coin out of his mouth, and replied, "Yes, I think so. I didn't quite break my tooth on this."

"Master Theodore found the lucky coin!" Vorcher said excitedly.

Selima smiled at her grandson. "It means you will have good fortune in the coming year."

"I think my fortune has been pretty good already," Theodore said with a smile. "I have a new family, and for that I am very grateful." From the way his gaze swept around the table, it was clear that he meant Dylan and Lupin as well as Snape and Selima. In a lighter tone he added, "But I will keep this as a good-luck charm," and slipped the coin into his pocket.

"Maybe it means your luck will get even better!" Dylan said with a grin.

"It has been a...difficult year for all of us," Selima said slowly, a faraway look in her eyes, and Snape wondered if she was thinking of his father. The boys suddenly looked grave, and he knew that they must be thinking of their parents who had been slain in the final battle.

"A year filled with great sorrow, and great joy," Lupin said softly.

Selima nodded in agreement. "A year filled with endings...but also new beginnings." She raised her glass of wine. "So let us drink then, to the new Lord and heir, and to good fortune in the coming year." The others raised their glasses and clinked them together, then solemnly drank to the toast.

After dessert, they refilled their wineglasses and retreated to the drawing room to sit, and talk, and admire the tree. Without really discussing it, it had become a nightly ritual during their brief stay at Snape Manor, mainly due to Lupin, who seemed to love the tree, especially with the candles lit and the crystal star blazing with reflected light. Lupin took such pleasure in the smallest things, Snape mused as he gazed at Lupin, watching the delight in the werewolf's face as he admired the tree, and noting with appreciation the way the reflected candlelight played against Lupin's face and hair, giving him an almost angelic glow. 

They sat very close to each other on the couch, but in deference to Lady Selima's sense of propriety, were not quite touching. In spite of Snape's many vociferous complaints about the way Lupin "mauled" and embarrassed him in public, he secretly missed the way that Lupin always snuggled up to him. He would like nothing better than to put his arm around Lupin right now, but it would not do to provoke his mother, when she had been so agreeable of late, and Snape consoled himself with the thought that he could hold Lupin in his arms soon enough in the privacy of his room after everyone retired for the night.

They talked quietly, of nothing in particular. Selima passed on some trivial gossip she had heard from the guests who had come to tea, and Theodore and Dylan talked about some of the things they had read in the Snape histories; rather than finding them boring, as Theodore had originally feared they would be, the boys seemed to find them fascinating, which pleased Selima. Snape supposed it helped that nearly every one of his ancestors had been practitioners of the Dark Arts, which all Slytherins were drawn to.

Lupin saw the boys casting eager, curious glances towards the presents beneath the tree, and he smiled and suggested, "Perhaps we should call it a night? The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Christmas will arrive." Lupin chuckled. "At least, that is what my parents always told me--though I remember feeling so wide-awake with excitement and anticipation that I felt I would never fall asleep!"

"Technically, it will be Christmas in about two hours," Snape pointed out. "We could just stay up and open the presents at midnight."

"No, no, no!" Lupin protested vehemently. "Then the real Christmas morning is such a letdown, with no presents left to open. No, we must do it properly, and get a good night's sleep and open the presents in the morning."

Snape glanced at his mother, who looked amused. "Well, Professor Lupin seems to feel rather strongly about this issue," Selima said, "so I suppose we must humor him, Severus."

Snape fixed a stern look on his face and said to the boys, "To bed, then."

The boys grinned at him, but said meekly, "Yes, Father," and "Yes, Professor." Everyone said goodnight and went upstairs to bed.

As soon as they were alone in their room, Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin and pulled him close. "Merry Christmas, Remus," he whispered into Lupin's ear.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Severus," Lupin said, resting his head comfortably on Snape's shoulder. "But technically, it's not Christmas yet."

"Yes," Snape agreed, "and I seem to recall you saying something about how you have trouble falling asleep on Christmas Eve. Do you feel sleepy, Lupin?"

"Not at all, Severus."

"How shall we pass the time, then?"

Lupin smiled and raised his head up off Snape's shoulder. "Oh, I'm sure we'll think of something," he murmured as he leaned in for a kiss.

*** 

At Grimmauld Place, Harry was enjoying his Christmas vacation. He and Sirius picked out a Christmas tree together, the tallest, bushiest, greenest tree on the lot, and proudly brought it home to Professor Blackmore. The Professor seemed amused, particularly by Sirius, who carried himself with the air of a conquering hero who has just returned home after slaying a dragon, but she dutifully praised the tree, her eyes sparkling with laughter, and helped them decorate it. Bane involved himself in the festivities, but was more hindrance than help, getting himself tangled in the tinsel, and stealing one of the shiny Christmas ornaments for the hoard of treasures he kept stashed in the attic. Hob had quietly pointed out Bane's "nest" to Harry one day; it was tucked up high in the rafters of the attic, a collection of the kinds of shiny objects that would attract a raven's eye: several foil candy wrappers, a silver Sickle, a bronze Knut, a bottlecap, a piece of broken glass, a silver spoon that Bane must have filched from the kitchen, a shiny brass button, and a cheap hairclip that Ginny had lost during the summer. No doubt Bane was now adding the ornament to his collection, but Sirius just laughed when he saw the bird fly off with it.

"That will be my Christmas present to you, Bane," he said.

Harry accompanied Sirius to work one day; he told Sirius that he wanted to see what his job was like, which was true enough, but mostly he just wanted to spend some time with his godfather, and Sirius seemed very pleased by his request. He helped Sirius file some paperwork at his office; in theory, two Ministry clerks were supposed to be available to help him part-time, but they had other duties to tend to in other departments as well, and regarded Werewolf Support as a dead-end position with no opportunity for advancement. Arthur Weasley was trying to change that type of attitude, but the Ministry, as Blackmore had once pointed out to Harry, was set in its ways and resistant to change. So in practice, the clerks tended to shirk their duties in Werewolf Support, which left Sirius with a mountain of paperwork on his desk. 

"Thanks, Harry," Sirius said gratefully. "It will be different this summer, once your friends start working for me. Dennis Creevey, Brad Doherty, and Martin Parry want to work for me part-time during the summer, and Arthur's given me permission to hire two permanent full-time assistants. I'll probably hire Crabbe and Goyle if that Lovegood girl doesn't talk them into starting a Thestral carriage business with her."

Harry shook his head a little; he wasn't quite sure how Crabbe and Goyle, who had threatened him with bodily harm on a steady basis for six years, had wound up being considered his "friends". Still, even if they didn't exactly hang out together, Crabbe and Goyle had turned out to be pretty decent once they stopped being Malfoy's lackeys. They worshipped Lupin, and they seemed to have a soft spot for Harry's new housemate, Allegra Zabini, who had somehow managed to coax Goyle into taking her to the Yule Ball. It probably wasn't that much of a sacrifice on Goyle's part, since he had apparently been unable to obtain a real date, but most older students would consider it beneath their dignity to take a first-year to the Ball, and Allegra was the envy of all the first-year girls in the school.

"Crabbe seems to have a thing going on with Luna," Harry told his godfather. They were an odd couple, but seemed somehow suited to each other. 

Sirius sighed. "Well, maybe I can still convince Goyle to work for me. And Doherty seems like a sharp kid, and he's really eager to work in Werewolf Support. It would probably be worth waiting another year to hire him. And I think that we need more paid employees to work at the clinics; right now they're staffed mainly with volunteers. Of course that means I'll need a bigger budget, unless I can come up the funds on my own..." Sirius sighed again. "Well, perhaps we can hire a few employees with the money from Cassidy's toy wolves; I hear they've been selling very well."

Once the paperwork was done, Sirius eagerly left his office and went out into the field. He stopped by to visit werewolves who had recently moved into new homes or started new jobs to see how they were doing, and he also visited potential employers, and attempted to coax or badger them into hiring werewolves. He also stopped by other businesses that donated food, clothing, or other necessities to the Werewolf Support Program, and dropped the items off at the charity clinic in Diagon Alley. 

"Wow, Sirius," Harry said, impressed, "you work really hard."

Sirius smiled proudly. "It's hard work, but it's satisfying, seeing how far we've come." Then he sighed. "And it's also frustrating, seeing how far we still have to go. Some of the werewolves are leery of accepting help from outsiders, and many of the human wizards are still holding on to their prejudices, equal rights bill or not. There are a few children in Lukas Bleddri's pack, and I want to see that they're given the opportunity to enter Hogwarts when they come of age--without having to hide their true identities and be locked up during the full moon, the way Remus had to."

"There are child werewolves?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, Moony developed lycanthropy when he was a child," Sirius reminded him. "And apparently so did Bleddri--or maybe I should call him 'Diggory'. Anyway, there are some children in the werewolf pack--a few who are normal human children of werewolf parents, and a couple who are actual werewolves." Sirius grimaced. "And there are a few werewolves who are only a year or two older than you, Harry. None of them ever had the chance to go to Hogwarts, or any other school. They were cast out by their families and left to fend for themselves on the street until Bleddri took them in."

Harry thought of how difficult Lupin's life had been, and realized that as bad as it was, it could have been much worse; it was a sobering thought.

Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder. "But hopefully, I can make sure that such a thing never happens to any child again."

"It's important work you're doing," Harry said.

Sirius smiled. "Yes, Branwen was right to urge me to take the job; I'm glad I did. It's frustrating at times, and I hate the paperwork, but I love what I'm doing. Say, it's getting late--why don't we stop and have lunch? My treat, to pay you back for helping with the paperwork."

Sirius took him to the Sakura, which was run by the pretty Japanese lady who had come to the Career Fair, then to Fortescue's for dessert. "As long as we're in Diagon Alley, do you need to do any last-minute Christmas shopping?" Sirius asked.

"I do need to get something for Professor Blackmore," Harry replied, "but I'm not sure what."

"Well, let's take a look around," Sirius said. "She's a bookworm like Snape and Remy, and she loves anything to do with that blasted raven of hers. I'd suggest getting her Poe's 'The Raven,' but Snape already bought it for her a couple years ago."

Harry grinned. "I already got Bane a box of chocolates for Christmas."

"You're a quick learner, Harry," Sirius laughed. "Although I'm afraid we can't win. Bane is grumpy unless we feed him, but Branwen scolds us for making him fat if we give him candy!"

Harry spotted the perfect gift in a jewelry store--a small brooch shaped like a raven, made of polished jet set in gold. As the clerk was wrapping up his purchase, Sirius asked, "Anything else, Harry? Did you get Miss Weasley something for Christmas yet?"

Harry flushed a little. "Um, yeah, I got her a box of candy from Honeydukes."

Sirius shook his head disapprovingly. "Oh no, that just won't do! Not for a girl who you regard as more than a friend, anyway."

"Sirius, keep your voice down!" Harry hissed. They were a few other customers in the shop, who were regarding them curiously. Harry was careful to keep his hair combed down over his scar, but his face had been plastered on the front page of the Daily Prophet so many times that most people found it easy to recognize him. "Anyway," Harry asked in a hushed tone, "don't girls like stuff like candy and flowers?"

"Yes," Sirius replied, lowering his voice, "but you want to give her something more personal, something that says you spent a lot of time picking out something special with her in mind."

"Well, what should I get?" Harry asked helplessly.

"Look around," Sirius suggested. "We're standing in a jewelry store, after all. Perhaps you can find her something she can wear to the Ball. Do you know what color dress she's wearing?"

"Uh, no," Harry replied anxiously. "Was I supposed to ask?"

Sirius sighed. "Something simple, then, that will go well with most anything. With her coloring, something gold set with either red or green stones would look nice."

"Red and gold are Gryffindor colors," Harry said with a grin. He looked at a glass display case filled ruby rings and bracelets and necklaces; they were all very pretty and very expensive. Harry could afford it, of course, but they weren't the sort of thing that Ginny usually wore, and he thought that she might feel uncomfortable accepting such an expensive gift from him. 

The Weasleys were proud, and had always been a little uneasy about accepting gifts from him, even snacks on the train ride to school, so he had always been careful not to be too extravagant with his birthday and Christmas presents to them, although he had so much money that he had always felt it was a shame that he couldn't share it with his friends. The way that they had welcomed him into their home and made him feel like part of the family was worth far more than gold to him. Well, they weren't poor anymore now that Mr. Weasley was Minister of Magic, but he still felt a little funny about buying expensive jewelry for Ginny.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know, Sirius. These are just too...well...I mean, we're not even going out together yet...I mean, we're going to the Ball, but we're not 'going out,' if you know what I mean..."

He was both embarrassed and relieved when the sales clerk, a pretty blonde woman about the same age as Sirius, glided forward and interrupted his babbling. "I understand, Mr. Potter," the clerk said smoothly. "You wish to buy a gift for a female friend, but you do not wish to be...ah...presumptuous?"

Harry felt his face turn red. "Uh, yeah, I guess," he mumbled, then shot a glare at his godfather, who was grinning and looking highly amused.

"Perhaps not rubies, then, but garnets?" the clerk suggested, and led him to another display. "Perhaps this?" She held up a gold band set with a small garnet. Harry hesitated, and the clerk said, "Well, perhaps not. A ring signifies certain intentions, after all." Harry felt his blush grow deeper. "Well, perhaps a bracelet, then, or perhaps these...?" She indicated a pair of simple gold hairclips, each decorated with a small flower whose petals were made of tiny red garnets.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed. "That's perfect!" They were pretty, but it wouldn't seem like he was proposing marriage or something if he gave them to her. Sirius seemed a little puzzled by the strength of his response, and Harry explained with a grin, "Bane stole one of her hairclips during the summer; I found it in his nest in the attic. So this will sort of make up for it."

Sirius chuckled. "I'll have to tell Branwen what a thief her bird is! I'm sure Ginny will like your present, Harry."

So he had the hairclips gift-wrapped, and later had Hedwig take the package to The Burrow.

When they returned home, they found Blackmore decorating the Black mansion with the help of Hob and two ice elementals. Hob was hanging up holly wreaths and boughs around the house, and the elementals were decorating the windows with frosty snowflake patterns; Harry remembered that Professor Blackmore had done something similar at Hogwarts last Christmas. When they were done, the elementals landed on Blackmore's shoulders to be petted and praised, and the Professor didn't seem to mind that they were leaving wet footprints on her robe and frost in her hair. 

Bane watched sulkily, and Harry reached into his pocket and offered the bird a piece of chocolate. The raven forgot his sulk and eagerly flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder; Harry staggered a little under the bird's weight. Bane was much heavier than Hedwig, and Harry wondered how Professor Blackmore managed to carry him around all day without her shoulder aching.

Harry thought nothing more of the elementals--Professor Blackmore's specialty was Summoning, after all--until they went to sit in the drawing room and sip hot cocoa after dinner. The room was dark and chilly, and Sirius took out his wand to light the fireplace and the candles on the tree (Professor Blackmore had brought over some old-fashioned candleholders from Blackmore Manor that she said were family heirlooms). But Blackmore placed a hand on his arm to stop him, then called out a brief incantation--Harry could make out the Latin words for "fire" and "invite"--and suddenly the fireplace burst into flame, and a red-and-gold bird soared out of it. 

At first, Harry thought it was a phoenix, but it looked nothing like Fawkes; its body was made up of living flames, not feathers. The bird swooped around the tree, lighting the candles with a flourish, then dove down towards Blackmore's shoulder. Bane let out a squawk of alarm, and launched himself up into the air and flew over to land on Harry's shoulder, where he cawed angrily at the fire elemental, who had just usurped his place. The flame-bird landed on Blackmore's shoulder, and made happy, crooning noises as she stroked it.

"How can she do that without getting burned?" Harry asked in amazement. "And how come her robes aren't catching fire?"

Sirius laughed. "Branwen has many amazing powers. But in this case, the answer is quite simple: she wears a pendant enspelled with a powerful protective charm against fire. A useful device that many Summoners wear--well, at least they used to. No one practices Summoning much these days; it fell out of fashion during the war--it's partly Branwen's fault, ironically enough. Summoning has always been regarded with fear and suspicion because most people think of it as Dark Magic, and when Branwen disappeared during the first war, people assumed she'd been carried off by demons that she summoned and lost control of."

"Oh," Harry said. He should have realized that she was using some kind of protective magic; they had made Fire Shield Potions in Snape's class, after all. Then he wondered about something else. "She summoned that elemental without doing any of things we do in class--no protective circle or material components, no binding spell or gift, just an incantation, and it didn't even sound like the ones we learned in class."

"It wasn't a real incantation," Sirius told him. "All she did was call the elemental by name, and ask it to come if it willed. She is a Master-class Summoner, the greatest anyone has seen in hundreds of years." He smiled at his wife, his eyes filled with both tenderness and awe as the fire elemental flew up into the air again, swooping playfully in circles around Blackmore, who was laughing. Bathed in the flickering orange light cast by the candles, the fireplace, and the elemental, she looked strangely beautiful and otherworldly. "She is a remarkable woman," Sirius said softly. "The elementals do not come to her call because she commands them; they come because they love her. That's why it's safe for her to summon them without a protective circle or binding spell."

"Oh," Harry repeated, feeling dumbfounded. It often seemed to him that he was surrounded by people who were extraordinary even by wizarding standards: Sirius was an Animagus; Lupin was a werewolf; Master Bleddri was not only a werewolf, but the long-lost heir to the Diggory family; Snape, of course, was a former Death Eater and double-agent; Dumbledore was...well...Dumbledore; and now it seemed that his step-godmother was not only a Summoner, but the elementals would come to her hand as tamely as Hedwig came to his.

The elemental finally dove back into the fireplace and disappeared, and Bane resumed his rightful place on his mistress's shoulder, barking out one last indignant caw in the direction of the fireplace. Blackmore smiled and said cheerfully to Harry and Sirius, "Come now, your cocoa is getting cold," as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The three of them sat together on the couch, and Blackmore picked up a book that had been left on the coffee table. As she opened it, Bane hunkered down on her shoulder, a look of eager expectation on his face, like a child settling down and waiting to be read a favorite bedtime story. She reached up to stroke the feathers on his chest affectionately, then began reading in her rich, melodious voice, "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary..."

Harry grinned and sipped his hot chocolate. It was an odd bedtime story, but then again, he had a rather odd family. Still, he loved them, he suddenly realized, even demonic Professor Blackmore and cantankerous Bane, and wouldn't trade them for anything. Sirius leaned back against the couch, looking very contented, and slipped a companionable arm around Harry's shoulders, and the two of them drank their cocoa and listened to Blackmore read. Bane croaked happily when she reached his favorite line.

"Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore'..."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Yule Ball this year is very eventful.

Christmas morning dawned, and Theodore and Dylan woke earlier than usual, feeling more excited about Christmas than they had in years. Dylan felt like a little boy again, eager to run downstairs and see what toys were waiting under the tree for him, which was silly, because he was too old for toys, and there was nothing that he especially wanted this year. He supposed that what he was really excited about was spending his first Christmas with Remus and the Professor and Theo. Still, although there was nothing in particular that he really needed--he had plenty of books and clothes, and Snape had already bought him a new broom to replace the broken one--he was still eager to go downstairs and open his presents.

Theodore felt much the same, only even more excited, because when he had been a young child, he couldn't really enjoy Christmas unreservedly, having to gauge his father's mood first to see how he should act. If Thaddeus was in a bad mood, it was wise to remain quiet and tiptoe around him. The best times were when Rafe came to visit, or when they went over to visit the Dietrich family on Christmas, because Thaddeus never harmed his wife or son in front of witnesses (although he would punish them in private later if they angered him). And if those visits happened to coincide with Thaddeus being in a good mood, it was safe for Theo to laugh and run around and play with Rafe and his cousins. 

He could even recall a few happy times spent playing games with Aric and Aric's sister Erika, although they usually ended up fighting eventually, because the loser of the game would claim that the winner had cheated, or because they were tired of sharing their toys, but Rafe would intervene before things got out of hand. But even in the happiest of times, Theodore had never relaxed completely, always keeping a wary eye on his father. So now it made him almost giddy to feel no fear, but only joy and anticipation on Christmas morning.

They quickly dressed, but hesitated over whether they should go wake their parents or not. "It's a little early," Theodore said.

"The sun's up," Dylan pointed out with a grin. "It's not that much earlier than the usual time we wake up at school, but the Professors do like to sleep in on weekends and holidays. But we could at least go down and look at the tree. And maybe shake a few presents and hope they don't explode."

But as they walked down the hall, Lupin emerged from his and Snape's bedroom. "So you're finally up!" he said cheerfully. "I thought you were going to sleep all morning!" He looked back in the bedroom and called, "Rise and shine, Severus!"

"Oh, shut up!" Snape growled sleepily. "How can you be so damned chirpy this early in the morning when you're a bloody Dark Creature? Aren't werewolves supposed to be nocturnal?"

The boys choked back laughter as Lupin replied in an unperturbed voice, "Oh, don't be such a grump, Sev. It's Christmas, after all. Come on, let's go open our presents!"

"Oh, all right," Snape grumbled, "since it's clear that you're not going to give me a moment's peace. But you can't open presents until Mother gets up."

"Do you think she's still sleeping?"

"Not likely, with all the bloody racket you're making."

A few minutes later, Lupin and the boys trooped downstairs, followed by a sleepy, grumpy Snape. Except that although he made a big show of yawning and glowering at Lupin, Dylan didn't think that Snape was really as grumpy or sleepy as he pretended. Still, like a good Slytherin, he kept that observation to himself.

It turned out that they didn't have to wait for Lady Selima to wake, because she came down the stairs about a minute after they did, looking as elegant and composed as always, without any sign of sleepiness or having dressed in haste. "Good morning," she said pleasantly. "You're all up early."

"Merry Christmas, Lady Selima," Lupin said cheerfully. 

Vorcher hastily scuttled forward, looking a bit anxious and flustered; apparently he hadn't expected everyone to be up this early, either. He bowed and said, "Good morning, Mistress, Masters. Shall Vorcher prepare breakfast?"

"Shall we have breakfast before opening presents?" Selima asked, just a touch too innocently. Snape was the only one who seemed to notice the faintest hint of amusement in her black eyes.

The boys covered up their disappointment well, fixing polite smiles on their faces, and Theodore said, "As you wish, Grandmother." But Lupin looked so dismayed that Snape almost burst out laughing.

"I fear that the anticipation would give Lupin a stroke, Mother," Snape said with a grin. "Or else he'll choke trying to rush through breakfast; he's worse than the children. A Gryffindor trait, I suppose."

Lupin pretended to glare at his lover, and Selima smiled. "Well then, I suppose we would not want Professor Lupin to perish of anticipation. Presents first, and then breakfast. But you may bring some tea to the drawing room, Vorcher."

Lupin and the boys tried not to squirm or look too impatient while they waited for Vorcher to bring the tea; Snape and Selima exchanged amused, almost conspiratorial looks. Snape suddenly wondered if hell had just frozen over: he was here at Snape Manor with his werewolf lover, and not only was he happy about it, he was actually getting along with his mother! And even more miraculously, his mother was getting along with the werewolf! He wondered if he ought to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

Just then, Vorcher returned with the tea. After everyone had taken a cup of tea and added their preferred amounts of sugar and cream--Selima and Snape deliberately took their time about it, as Lupin looked nearly ready to burst and even the boys' impatience was beginning to slip through their polite masks--Selima finally instructed Vorcher to start passing out the presents. The house-elf read the tags and passed them out one at a time, and everyone waited and watched politely as the recipient opened his or her gift. This was Lady Selima's idea of Christmas: civilized, dignified, and orderly, with no chaos or indiscriminate ripping into presents as seemed to take place in the Weasley household. Still, Lupin and the boys didn't seem to mind. 

The first box Vorcher picked up happened to be Lupin's. "Ah yes," Lupin said as he accepted it, "this is from the Slytherins." He opened the card and read, "'To Professor Lupin, this is from everyone in Slytherin. We thought you should have this, as you are now an honorary member of Slytherin'." Snape snorted, and the boys grinned at Lupin. "So what is it?" Lupin asked them. "Come on, give me a hint."

"Open it and see," Dylan said eagerly. "We can't ruin the surprise for you!"

"Oh, just open the bloody thing, Lupin!" Snape snapped. "This is what you woke me up at the crack of dawn for, after all."

"Put some more sugar in your tea, Severus," Lupin said serenely. "Perhaps it will make you less grouchy." But he tore off the wrapping and opened the cardboard box that lay beneath it, and pulled out a green velvet robe. It was a formal, floor-length robe, with a high collar, silver fastenings, intricate silver embroidery around the edges, and the Slytherin crest embroidered across the breast. "Oh!" Lupin gasped.

"Do you like it?" Theodore asked eagerly.

"I love it!" Lupin exclaimed, his eyes filling with tears, and hugged both of the boys. "Thank you so much; it really means a lot to me that the Slytherins consider me one of them now."

"It was really Pansy's idea," Dylan admitted.

Selima raised an eyebrow as she watched Lupin, then turned to her son. "Sentimental, isn't he?" she observed mildly.

"Indeed," Snape said, taking a sip of his tea. "It's a Gryffindor trait." But inwardly, he was also surprised and touched by his Slytherins' gesture. He made a mental note to award some extra points to his House when he returned to school.

"It's beautiful," Lupin said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I'll wear it to the Ball tonight." Theodore and Dylan grinned proudly at each other. "By the way, did Aric really contribute something towards the gift?" Lupin asked.

"Yes," Theodore replied, still grinning. "Everyone in Slytherin gave something."

Lupin gave him a wry smile. "I won't ask how you managed to achieve such a miracle, although somehow I suspect it involved blackmail."

Dylan and Theodore looked startled and a little guilty, and Snape laughed, in his low, wicked voice. "You really are starting to develop a Slytherin sensibility, Lupin. My students chose well for your gift."

"Perhaps there's hope for him yet," Selima said dryly, and Lupin chuckled good-naturedly.

Vorcher continued passing out presents. Snape received the usual Christmas bribes from the Slytherin parents, mainly expensive imported chocolates and liquor. The Zabinis showed a little originality by combining the two and giving him a box of liqueur-filled chocolates. 

Selima opened several gifts, some addressed to her personally, and others to the Snape family in general. There were more boxes of chocolates and bottles of expensive wine, but also a few gifts that had obviously been chosen with Selima's fondness for tea in mind: a box of petit fours from her favorite bakery, a set of delicate porcelain tea cups and saucers, and a tin of what Selima assured the others was a very rare and expensive type of tea imported from China. There were also small pieces of artwork and bric-a-brac, some tasteful, some not. Selima held up a chubby-cheeked, round-eyed porcelain angel from Elaine Baddock and frowned at it distastefully. 

"Another piece for the attic," she sighed. "I thought that Gryffindors were the only ones who liked 'cute'. Sometimes I think there is nothing in Elaine's head but air!"

"It would be a pity, wouldn't it, if a certainly clumsy werewolf accidentally dropped and broke it?" Lupin asked, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "No one can expect a beast to have proper manners, after all."

Selima flushed slightly, having said such things often enough herself, a reaction that surprised Snape; he had not expected her to feel guilty about insulting a werewolf. But she quickly recovered and asked politely, "Would you like to look at the angel, Professor Lupin?"

"Indeed I would, Lady Selima," Lupin replied, just as politely. As she handed it to him, he let it slip through his fingers, and it fell to the floor, and the tinkling sound of breaking glass filled the air. "Oops," Lupin said, an exaggerated look of dismay on his face. "How clumsy of me! I'm so sorry, Lady Selima!"

Selima heaved an exaggerated sigh. "It cannot be helped, I suppose. Vorcher, clean up this mess."

"At once, Mistress!"

The house-elf quickly swept up and disposed of the broken glass, then continued passing out presents. Dylan received many boxes of candy from his female admirers, and one of Cassidy Sinclair's magical music boxes from Goewin and Math. He and Theo also received gifts from their male friends: Quidditch books and posters, decks of Exploding Snap cards, and keychains shaped like tiny Golden Snitches. The latter were from Blaise and Allegra; Blaise's card said that Allegra had picked them out. 

They found out that the wings of the Snitch would flutter when you pressed a hidden button on the keychain, and Dylan said with a grin, "I'm afraid it might fly off with my keys!"

"Sounds like something Fred and George Weasley would invent," Theodore joked. "Besides, you don't really have any keys. Neither do I, come to think of it." Lupin's cottage and the Donner mansion were secured with warding spells rather than conventional locks, the "key" to the Rosier mansion was Dylan's ring that had once belonged to his father, and they always used the Floo to commute to Snape Manor. 

"Well, we'll have to find you some, so you have something to put on your keychains," Lupin said with a smile. "I can give you keys to the cottage, although you don't really need them."

"Speaking of the Weasleys," Snape muttered, as Vorcher handed him a large package addressed to "Severus Snape and family, from the Weasleys" in Molly's handwriting. He opened it without enthusiasm, but his expression brightened when he saw what lay inside. "Mince pies; no sweaters this year, thank Merlin!" He passed around the box, and they munched on the small, tart-sized pies as they continued opening presents.

"She really is a good cook," Selima said, sounding a little surprised. 

"Her one saving grace," Snape replied. "It almost makes up for all the havoc her sons have wreaked at Hogwarts over the years. Almost."

"Then I'm glad I gave her that trifle dish for Christmas," Selima said casually.

"What?" Snape asked, not sure that he had heard right.

"A trifle dish," Selima repeated patiently, "made of cut crystal, very expensive, along with a bottle of good rum, since she was so keen on that Raspberry-Rum Trifle recipe we were talking about when the Weasleys came over for dinner." She gave her son a less patient look. "You cannot think that I would not send a gift to the Minister's family; that would be an unthinkable snub."

"Of course not," Snape said, still a little dazed at the thought of his mother currying favor with Molly Weasley. He decided not to point out to her that she'd had no problem with snubbing the Weasleys before Arthur became Minister; Selima would probably only see it as irrelevant, anyway. One flattered the people in power, and ignored those who were not; that was the Slytherin way. 

"I'm sure that Molly will like your gift," Lupin said with a pleasant smile, although the same thought that had occurred to Snape had occurred to him as well. Molly Weasley was a generous person, and would not hold the past against Selima. Besides, she had seemed quite charmed by Lady Snape at the dinner.

"And Mrs. Weasley will be flattered that you remembered that conversation about the trifle," Theodore added shrewdly, and Selima smiled at him approvingly.

"A true Slytherin," Lupin said with an amused smile, and ruffled Theodore's hair affectionately.

"Maybe she'll make us some trifle," Dylan said hopefully.

There was also a gift from Fred and George, a set of deluxe fireworks. Selima raised her eyebrows a little at those, then said, "Well, I suppose it would be all right if you set them off on New Year's Eve." And there was one more Weasley-related gift, a box of Canary Creams for Lupin that Harry and Ron had bought at the twins' shop.

"Oh, please don't eat any of those, Lupin," Snape groaned, as Lupin eyed the Creams eagerly. "God only knows what you'll turn into--a canary with fangs, or a wolf with yellow feathers!"

"Oh, don't be silly, Severus," Lupin chided. "I'm a normal human when the moon isn't full." Which was not entirely true, as he still possessed heightened senses and had a certain wolfish nature to his personality, but in any case, he left the Creams untouched, with a little sigh of regret.

Theodore didn't fancy turning into a giant canary himself, and he doubted that his grandmother or Dylan did, either. "We could give them to Allegra," he suggested, then explained to Selima, "My friend's little sister. She likes those things, for some reason."

"Maybe we could serve them to Priscilla Parkinson the next time she comes for tea," Dylan snickered.

"I see that you do indeed take after your father, Dylan," Selima said with a wry little smile. "It is a most amusing thought, to be sure, but alas, would reflect poorly on the Snape family's reputation." She held out her hand. "You may give them to your friend's sister, but I will hold on to them until you return to school." Lupin grinned and handed the box over to her.

Professor Kamiyama sent Snape a Castella cake, a rectangular, honey-sweetened sponge cake that his card said was a specialty of Nagasaki, where he had recently gone on some business of the wizard's council. It had been placed in a box that had a preservation spell cast on it, so it still smelled fresh-baked and delicious--which made everyone hungry as they'd had no breakfast but the mince pies yet, so Snape passed the box of cake around as well. Kamiyama's grandchildren sent Lupin more of the Japanese comic books that he loved.

Dumbledore gave Lupin several pairs of fuzzy wool socks striped in Gryffindor and Slytherin colors--red and gold, and green and silver--as well as a couple of matching stocking caps. "As eccentric as ever, I see," Selima muttered under her breath. Snape opened his own gift from the Headmaster with trepidation, expecting more socks, but what he found was even worse: green flannel pajamas printed with a design of cheerful, smiling, cartoonish snakes. Selima's eyebrows shot up into her forehead when she saw them, and Lupin doubled over with laughter, nearly falling off the couch. The boys looked as though they were trying very hard not to laugh.

"This is all your fault," Snape snarled accusingly at Lupin. "You suggested this to the old man, didn't you?"

"I did no such thing, Severus," Lupin said, feigning a hurt look. "I assure you, Albus is more than capable of coming up with such...er...original gift ideas all on his own. And it's not really respectful of you to refer to the Headmaster as 'the old man'--you need to set a good example for your sons, after all. Vorcher, will you pass me that box there, that one with the silver ribbon? Thank you. Here, Sev, open my gift now."

Lupin smiled at him sweetly, and Snape gave him a suspicious glance, but unwrapped the box and opened it, revealing a set of black silk pajamas. His face instantly turned red as he recalled Lupin's casual comment during the summer, when they had been staying at Grimmauld Place, that they needed to replace Snape's plain gray nightshirt with "something sexier". 

Lupin was grinning unrepentantly. "I honestly had no idea that Albus was going to give you pajamas for Christmas too, but they do say that great minds think alike!"

Theodore coughed and hastily took a sip of his tea, while Dylan looked like he was going to choke from the effort of trying to suppress his laughter. Lady Selima just sat there, her eyebrows still raised, staring at them in disbelief, while Snape seriously contemplated strangling his lover on the spot. He managed to restrain himself, but glowered balefully at Lupin, muttering, "A wolfskin rug," under his breath.

Vorcher quickly continued passing out presents in an attempt to distract Snape, or at least to deter him from flinging Unforgivable Curses around the room. Sirius gave Lupin one of Cassidy's recording spheres, "so that you can record Dylan's and Theodore's Quidditch matches," and Branwen gave them books: Potions texts for Dylan and Snape, a book on protective circles for Theodore, and a Shakespeare anthology for Lupin. Hermione gave hand-knitted scarves to Lupin, Snape, and Theodore: red, black, and green, respectively, with their initials embroidered in gold, red, and silver thread.

"How many scarves does the girl think I need?" Snape grumbled. "And besides, she ought to be spending her free time studying for her N.E.W.T.s instead of on nonsense like this."

Lupin smiled, ignoring his tirade. Theodore was surprised that Granger had given him a present, and despite the fact that he didn't much care for the Muggle-born girl, he felt a surge of pleasure at seeing his initials on the scarf--"T.S." for "Theodore Snape" instead of "T.N." for "Theodore Nott". The thrill of being addressed as a Snape, in knowing that he was the Professor's son, had still not worn off, and it made him feel a little more kindly towards his foster brother's girlfriend. "Why'd Granger give me a present?" he wondered out loud.

"Because you're my brother now, you git," Dylan replied affectionately. "She wouldn't give presents to me and Remus and the Professor and leave you out." He opened his own present from Hermione, which looked much too small to be a scarf. It turned out to be a silver pendant shaped like a Japanese kanji character, similar to the one she had given him for his birthday, except that one had been the character for "friendship" and this one was...

Dylan's eyes widened; his Japanese lessons with Lupin had progressed far enough for him to recognize the character, but as he was temporarily rendered speechless, Lupin obligingly named it for him. "It's the character 'ai,'" he said cheerfully, "which means 'love'."

Snape snorted and Selima looked a bit sour, but neither of them said anything. Theodore just smiled, still admiring his monogrammed scarf, and Dylan grinned and added the charm to the "friendship" necklace he was already wearing.

Lupin smiled at the two silver charms that were now hanging from a length of black cord around Dylan's neck. "The best sort of love often blooms from friendship," he said, and Snape flushed. Theodore ducked his head, letting his dark hair fall forward across his face to hide his own blush, as he pretended to be preoccupied with wrapping the scarf around his neck.

Vorcher handed Selima a large package that was from the Bashirs. It turned out to be a tapestry embroidered with the Bashir family tree. "It's very pretty," Lupin said politely, and it was, gold thread on black velvet.

"It is my mother's way of making a point," Selima said with a humorless, ironic smile. "She is quite cross with me for supporting Cyril's claim to the Diggory title, and she wishes to remind me of my duty to my family, and that I am a Bashir as well as a Snape."

She set it aside, but the boys looked at it curiously. "Hmm, I guess Mr. Bashir isn't related to Ali Baba after all," Dylan said after examining the tapestry.

"Of course not!" Selima said, rolling her eyes. "Is Ali still telling that old story? He's been doing it since we were children. Ali Baba is a fictional character; the two of you should know better."

The boys smiled sheepishly, and Lupin pointed out, "But many stories have a grain of truth in them, Lady Selima--like the tales the Muggles tell of Merlin and King Arthur."

"In this case, I assure you, it is pure fiction," Selima replied. "Besides, I cannot see that Ali Baba is someone that people would wish to emulate. He gained his fortune by stealing it from thieves, and it was only the cleverness of his slave girl that prevented the thieves from killing him in revenge." She sniffed disdainfully, and Lupin grinned, because it was obvious that she was familiar with the stories in "The Thousand and One Nights". He was amused and encouraged by the fact that cold and proper Lady Snape apparently liked to read fairy tales. "Do you find something amusing, Professor?" Selima asked him coolly.

"No, Lady Selima," Lupin replied innocently. "In fact, I quite agree with you. But for most people, the name 'Ali Baba' merely conjures up an image of exotic adventure, which I assume is what your cousin wishes to convey."

"You are correct," Selima conceded. Then she told Theodore and Dylan, "My cousin is a charming man, but you cannot trust anything he says--not without verifying it first, at least. He is fond of telling outrageous tales, partly to sell his wares, and partly just for the sheer pleasure of it."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Yes, Lady Selima."

It turned out that Ali had sent presents to everyone in the family, even Lupin and Dylan. He gave Selima a bolt of beautiful silver-brocaded green silk "to be made into a dress that befits your loveliness, my beautiful cousin," his card said. Lupin's gift was a tiny carving of a wolf made from turquoise--a Native American piece, according to Ali's card; Lupin was quite enchanted with it. Dylan and Theodore received small Turkish carpets similar to the one in the library upstairs.

"I'm going to kill him," Snape growled, then said in a less menacing tone to the boys, "I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to keep--"

"Don't worry, Professor," Dylan reassured him. "They're ordinary rugs." He held up the Christmas card that had come with the gift. "But Mr. Bashir says that he'll enchant them for us if he can get the Ministry to revoke the ban on flying carpets."

Lupin laughed, and both Snape and Selima sighed and shook their heads. Snape's gift was a book on Potions, but it was written in Arabic. "I can't read more than a few words of Arabic," he said regretfully. 

It was his mother's first language, of course, but after initially being snubbed as "foreigners," the Bashirs had been careful to assimilate into British wizarding society. They always spoke English in public, and mostly at home as well. It was practical for a merchant to learn to speak many different languages, but since her son was not going to be a merchant, but the heir to the Snape family, Selima had raised him as a proper pureblood heir. She had taught him Latin, because that was the foundation of the spell incantations that the British wizards used, and a smattering of French and German, because the pureblood elite considered it genteel. But she had taught Snape only a little Arabic, just enough to exchange polite greetings with his Bashir grandparents. He had never regretted the lack before, but he now he was disappointed that he was unable to read what was probably an interesting Potions text. It looked very old, and he suspected that it contained some recipes that did not appear in the English books he owned.

"I can translate it for you, Severus," Selima offered, "though it will take some time." 

"Thank you, Mother," Snape said, surprised but sincerely grateful. "I would appreciate that."

Selima opened the present from Snape and Lupin next: an ivory carving of a dragon with a coiled, serpentine body. It was very small, and fit neatly in the palm of her hand with room to spare as she lifted it up to examine it more closely. "A netsuke," she said with obvious pleasure.

"Ah, you're familiar with netsuke, then?" Lupin asked. "A friend in Japan obtained it for us."

"Of course," Selima replied in answer to his question. "The Bashirs deal in all sorts of artwork, and the Snapes own an art gallery, after all. Sometimes they get in netsuke; this is a very nice piece." She hesitated, then added, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Lady Selima," Lupin said pleasantly, then nudged Snape in the side with his elbow.

"You're welcome, Mother," Snape said.

Dylan's face lit up when he opened his gift from Snape and Lupin. It was a black velvet dress robe with a design of roses and thorny vines embroidered in silver thread along the hem and cuffs. "Thank you, Professor, Remus," he said. "It's beautiful; I'll wear it to the Ball tonight."

"You've grown a bit over the summer," Lupin said with a smile. "I noticed that you were outgrowing the robe you wore to last year's Ball and Branwen's wedding."

There was also a second gift, in a much smaller box. Dylan laughed out loud when he opened the lid to reveal a quill made from a peacock's tail feather.

"Don't look at me," Snape said. "It was Lupin's idea."

Dylan wasn't offended. "Hermione will like this; she told me once that I'm a bit of a peacock," he said good-naturedly.

"That's what everyone in Slytherin calls him," Theodore said, grinning. "The boys, anyway."

Selima also gave Dylan a dress robe, this one made of shimmering silvery-gray cloth, almost the exact shade of Dylan's eyes. "Thank you, Lady Selima," he said delightedly. He laughed and added, "I wish I could wear them both tonight!"

"I am sure you can find another occasion on which to wear it," Selima said, "especially since you are so popular with the young ladies. If not, we can create an event for you to show off your robe at."

Snape groaned, "You promised, no parties until after Theodore graduates!"

Everyone else laughed. "Then I will wear it to your graduation party, Theo," Dylan said, grinning at his foster brother.

Selima also gave Theodore a robe in Snape colors: black velvet, embroidered with a serpentine pattern in red thread along the edges. "Thank you, Grandmother," he said politely.

She handed him a small box, saying, "This is a key of sorts, although I would prefer that you not put it on that flying keychain your friends gave you." Curious, Theodore tore off the wrapping, revealing a small jewelry box. Nestled inside the velvet lining was a wide gold band; the front of the ring was flat and etched with the Snape crest, a snake curved into the shape of an "S". It was similar to the Snape Lord's signet ring, except that it was less ornate and the crest was carved in bas-relief, not high enough to be used as a seal as the Lord's ring was meant to be. "This a new heir's ring I had made for you," Selima explained. 

"A new ring?" Theodore asked. "Didn't the Prof...I mean, didn't Father have one when he was still heir?"

Selima sighed. "Yes, but he sent it back after his father disowned him, and Severin destroyed it in a fit of temper. But I thought that you should have a proper heir's ring, so I had a new one made, and cast the enchantment on it myself. It will allow you to bypass the locks and wards on the Manor and estate."

"Thank you, Grandmother!" Theodore repeated, with much more enthusiasm this time, feeling very pleased. Like the monogrammed scarf, the ring was a welcome reminder that he was a Snape, and moreover, it was a sign that Lady Selima had truly accepted him as part of the family. He slipped the ring on his finger; it was a little too large, but it magically contracted until it fit snugly on his finger. He looked up, eyes shining, and smiled at her warmly, his face open and vulnerable, without that hint of guarded reservation that was second nature to most Slytherins, and especially to someone who had been the son of a sadistic Death Eater.

Lady Selima's expression of cool dignity thawed slightly, and she gave him a small smile that was almost affectionate. Snape lifted his hand to his face, regarding his mother with a thoughtful look as he absent-mindedly traced his lips with one finger; he couldn't remember ever seeing such an expression on her face before. Was Lupin right? Had she really changed? Strictly speaking, the ring was more symbolic than anything else; the wards could be set to allow family members to Floo or Apparate into the Manor without using a magical key like the ring, but it was a nice gesture, and it obviously meant a lot to Theodore. She had even given Dylan, who was technically not part of the Snape family, a gift--one that was obviously expensive and custom-made, that must have been ordered well in advance. 

Then Snape jumped a little, startled out of his reverie when Vorcher said, "Master Severus?"

Snape took the present that Vorcher was proffering, and opened it. As it was from his mother, Snape was not surprised to find that it contained a robe--a black velvet dress robe embroidered with a pattern similar to the one on Theodore's robe, except that the embroidery was black not red; no doubt his mother knew that he refused to wear anything but unrelieved black. The black-on-black design was difficult to see unless one looked closely at it, but was elegant and attractive, in a subtle way.

Lupin apparently agreed, because he said, "It's very beautiful, Lady Selima." Then again, Lupin's taste was questionable, because he thought Snape was beautiful, too--not that Snape was going to argue the point. He'd finally stopped questioning Lupin's love for him, even if he didn't always feel worthy of it, and simply accepted it, and was grateful that Lupin loved him, for whatever reason.

"Thank you, Mother," Snape said, with a little more warmth in his voice than he usually used when addressing his mother. He was not so much thanking her for the robe as he was for Theodore's ring, and the way she seemed to have accepted Lupin and Dylan as part of his life. 

"You're welcome, Severus," Selima replied.

Selima also gave Lupin a robe, one made of rusty, red-orange velvet the color of autumn leaves. It was a color Snape had never considered when buying Lupin robes in the past, but it actually went well with his fair skin and golden-brown hair. Lupin draped it over his shoulders to see how it looked, and laughed, "I'm becoming quite the clotheshorse, myself--soon I'll be giving Dylan a run for his money! Thank you very much, Lady Selima; it's lovely. It makes me think of the way the woods look in the fall, when the leaves are turning color." 

"You're welcome, Professor," Selima said politely, then added, somewhat less politely, "If you are to be associating with my son and grandson, I cannot have you running around in rags. If I cannot make you respectable, at least you shall be respectably attired."

"I greatly appreciate it, Lady Selima," Lupin said, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

Theodore and Dylan opened each other's presents next. Dylan gave Theodore a green-and-silver fountain pen and a silver letter opener with a handle shaped like a serpent; Theodore regarded them with only mild interest until he saw that they were both engraved with his initials. Then a wide grin spread across his face and he said, "Thanks, Dylan!" Dylan was equally pleased with his gift, a black cloak with red roses embroidered around the edges.

Dylan burst out laughing. "Thank you, Theo, but maybe I should be a little worried that everyone seems to think that I'm such a peacock!"

"Well, I was thinking of getting you a mirror instead," Theodore teased, "except that I was afraid your head would swell up!"

"Like James Potter," Snape whispered to Lupin, recalling a certain prank that he and Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes had played on James back in third year that had involved a little Swelling Solution and some Valentine's Day chocolates. It was a bit petty of him, Snape supposed, but he still took pleasure in the memory of Potter's head literally swelling up to match his oversized ego. Lupin just smiled.

Theodore then opened Snape's present, which was an advanced text on runes by someone named Elias Tremayne. "Tremayne is one of the foremost experts on runes in the wizarding world--I have been inquiring as to whether he might be interested in taking you on as an apprentice, but he's a bit of a recluse and difficult to get hold of. But in any case, this text is required reading if you wish to obtain a Master's certification in Rune Lore."

"Yes, I do," Theodore replied earnestly, "and I would be honored if Master Tremayne will accept me as his apprentice. Thank you, Father. I'll study the book carefully, and work hard to pass my Ancient Runes N.E.W.T."

Snape smiled at him indulgently. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Theodore. Tremayne is a former curator with the Museum of Wizarding History, and he still does some consultant work for them occasionally, so an apprenticeship with him could lead to a job at the museum. And it's possible that there may be an opening in Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, not right away, but say, in the next three to five years. Professor Driscoll is getting on in years, and he's getting a little tired of teaching unruly children. He's been making noises about retiring in a few years and settling down to do some independent research and write a book."

"Me?" Theodore said, startled. "A teacher?"

Dylan grinned. "Why not? You could make it a family tradition."

"Two Snapes teaching at Hogwarts might be a little overwhelming for the students," Lupin joked.

"I don't think I could ever live up to Professor Snape's reputation," Theodore laughed.

Snape looked pleased by that remark; he was rather proud of his sinister reputation. "I will handle terrorizing the students; you need only teach," he said smugly, and Lupin and the boys laughed. "But seriously, it's only a suggestion. You have many options open to you, but I just thought you should keep it in mind. And you will need to pursue your studies beyond the N.E.W.T. level after graduation if you want to qualify for a teaching position. Working with Tremayne or at the museum would provide you with some useful experience in the meantime."

"Yes, Father," Theodore said, sounding very determined. Then he grinned and added, "It might be nice to hand out detention rather than receive it!"

"Yes, handing out my first detention was quite a thrill," Snape reminisced. "To a Gryffindor, of course."

"That goes without saying," Lupin laughed.

Lupin gave two gifts to Theodore; the first was a set of carving tools--blades of varying lengths and widths for finer detail work than his penknife could manage. "Thank you, Remus," Theodore said gratefully. "I hope one day I can carve as well as you."

Lupin noticed that Selima was frowning slightly, and he said pleasantly, "You have an interest in art, don't you, Lady Selima? I've noticed that you have many fine carvings and sculptures displayed around the house." His smile was as genial as always, but there was a hint of warning in his blue eyes.

Selima immediately picked up on it, and was reminded that as gentle and good-natured as he seemed most of the time, Lupin was still a werewolf, and that a wolf was protective of its cubs. Selima inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, giving him a look of grudging respect. It was easy to look only on the surface and mistake Lupin's gentleness for weakness, but she knew better than to underestimate him by now, because Lupin was anything but weak. He had stubbornly stood up to her, and deftly manipulated her, all while maintaining that deceptively soft-spoken manner and gentle smile. She might not be happy about her son's relationship with the werewolf, but Slytherins respected strength, and she had come to respect Lupin.

"Yes, Professor," she said smoothly. "I did not know that Theodore was interested in such things." She turned to her grandson. "Perhaps during the holidays I can take you to visit the art gallery that we own--it would be a good idea for you to become more familiar with the various Snape investments."

"Yes, Grandmother," Theodore said obediently, relieved that she wasn't going to make a fuss about his hobby, which most of the snooty pureblood elite would regard as a bit crude and unseemly. Working with one's hands was something that the lower classes and Muggles did. "I would like that very much." He opened Lupin's second gift and completely forgot his misgivings. "It's my Patronus!" he exclaimed with delight as he held up the small weasel carving that Lupin had managed to complete in time for Christmas. It stood up on its hind legs in a protective stance, its mouth open to reveal tiny wooden fangs. He flung his arms around Lupin and hugged him, saying, "Thank you, Remus!"

Lupin hugged him back, smiling at him fondly. "You're welcome, Theo. I'm glad you like it."

Selima looked a little surprised, although Lupin was not sure whether it was due to the gift or Theodore's reaction to it. "May I see that for a moment, Theodore?" she asked, and he handed her the weasel. She examined it closely, then returned it to him. She stared at Lupin for a long moment, with an expression he could not quite read on her face; it seemed to be a bit quizzical. Finally she said, "Very fine, remarkably lifelike work. You are a man of many talents, Professor."

Lupin smiled. "That's high praise coming from you, Lady Selima. Thank you."

"Have you ever sold any of your carvings? It's certainly the equal of many pieces that I've seen at the gallery."

Now it was Lupin's turn to look startled. "Oh no, it's just something I do for fun. Although I guess I did carve a few fox figurines to be sold at Professor Kamiyama's temple in Japan when we were visiting him a few years back. But I only did it to pass the time." He smiled again. "I guess it never occurred to me to try and do it for a living, although perhaps I might have, if I had thought of it, when I was unemployed."

"Maybe you could have been a famous artist," Dylan said, only half-jokingly.

Lupin smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm very happy to be a teacher; I wouldn't trade it for any other job, not even Minister of Magic."

Dylan and Theodore gave their guardians books for Christmas. For Snape, they bought a Potions text entitled: "Toxic Tonics: a Treatise on the Medicinal Uses of Hellebore, Hemlock, and other Poisonous Herbs".

"Ah," Snape said, his eyes lighting with interest when he opened his present. "A somewhat archaic and dated text, but quite interesting, and difficult to find these days. Many modern Healers avoid using the potions described in this book because of the potential danger to the patient if one gets the dosage wrong." A disdainful expression crossed his face for a moment. "It's easier to prescribe something safer but less effective than go to the trouble of brewing the potion properly."

"Not everyone possesses your expertise in potion-brewing, Severus," Lupin said gently.

Snape smiled smugly and preened a little. "True," he conceded. "In any case, Hogwarts does have a copy of this book in the restricted section of the library, but I've been wanting a copy for my own collection for quite some time now. Where did you find it?"

His sons smiled at him proudly. "Mr. Jigger recommended the title when I asked him what you might like for Christmas," Dylan replied, "and he helped us track down a copy through a used book dealer."

"Thank you," Snape said, and the boys beamed at him. "I shall have to thank Mr. Jigger as well." He looked at the pile of liquor bottles and candy boxes that he had received from the Slytherin parents. "I'll take him a bottle of brandy the next time I drop by the shop." Jigger didn't care much for sweets, and besides, Snape preferred to keep the chocolates for himself. He would share some with Lupin, though, since chocolate did have certain aphrodisiacal qualities--not that Lupin really needed any help in that department.

For Lupin, the boys had picked out a set of novels by his favorite author, Ariel Zoltaire. "How wonderful!" Lupin cried enthusiastically. "It's his--or her--latest trilogy!"

"You don't what sex the author is?" Snape asked curiously.

"No one knows," Lupin replied. "There's no picture of the author on the book jackets, and he or she never makes personal appearances. Thank you so much, Theo, Dylan. I've read 'Demon Lover,' but I haven't read 'Demon's Destiny' or 'Demon's Daughter' yet. I've been meaning to pick them up, but things have been so hectic..." He smiled. "But we're on vacation now, so I'm looking forward to sitting by the fire and reading these."

Snape gazed at the books, curling his lip in distaste. "Don't tell me that you're reading those trashy romance novels that the Slytherin girls are so fond of," he said scornfully.

"They're not trashy!" Lupin protested indignantly. "And while there's some romance in them, there's also plenty of action and adventure--not that there's anything wrong with a little romance!"

"Ali Bashir would like 'The Beggar Prince,'" Dylan chimed in. "It's about a young wizard who travels around the world on a flying carpet. He has all sorts of adventures, wins a fortune, and marries a princess at the end." Snape stared at him incredulously, and Dylan grinned sheepishly. "Er...Pansy left it lying around in the common room. I just happened to pick it up and leaf through it when I was bored one day."

"I see," Snape said, not sounding convinced. "Well, they still look like trashy romance novels to me." He picked up "Demon Lover," which featured a beautiful young woman with an ample, heaving bosom being embraced by a handsome but sinister-looking man in black robes. Snape took a sip of tea, then nearly choked when he read the summary on the dust jacket. When he was done coughing, he exclaimed, "This is about a woman who is kidnapped and taken to the palace of the King of Demons, where of course the King falls madly in love in love with her."

"Of course," Lupin agreed. "That is usually how these stories work."

Snape stared at the book suspiciously. "Are you sure that Branwen isn't the mystery author writing under a pen name?"

Lupin chuckled. "It's probably just someone who's created a fanciful tale inspired by her disappearance and recent reappearance in the wizarding world. Most people assumed she was carried off by demons, as you yourself have often pointed out. Perhaps Branwen should sue for a percentage of the royalties."

Snape handed the book back to Lupin with a disgusted look. "The author probably remains anonymous because he or she would be ashamed to have their real name associated with such trash. This Zoltaire can't even come up with an original idea--Branwen seems to be the model for the heroine in this book, and the plot of 'The Beggar Prince' was obviously stolen from 'Aladdin'."

Lupin smiled. "That may be so, Severus, but it's all in how you tell the story. And Mr. or Ms. Zoltaire manages to create quite a page-turner of a tale. You should try reading one of the books before you judge them."

"I'd sooner read one of Gilderoy Lockhart's books," Snape declared contemptuously.

Meanwhile, the pile of presents under the tree had grown much smaller. Vorcher handed one of the few remaining boxes to Selima. It was from Theodore and contained a pair of silver hair combs set with small, round pieces of amber that looked like droplets of clear, dark honey--a near-perfect match to the color of Selima's skin. "Thank you, Theodore," Selima said, sounding pleased. "They're beautiful."

"You're welcome, Grandmother," Theodore said, then admitted, "Dylan helped me pick them out. He said the combs would stand out more against your hair, while a necklace or bracelet of amber beads would blend in with your skin tones."

"Yes, Mr. Rosier has quite an eye for color," Selima acknowledged with a note of wry humor in her voice. "If he ever tires of brewing potions as a career, he could always become a fashion designer."

Dylan laughed, and Snape shuddered and said, "Perish the thought, Mother! What a waste that would be!"

Dylan's gift to Selima was a matching brooch of amber set in silver. She pinned the brooch to her robes, and slid the combs into her hair.

"You look beautiful, Lady Selima," Lupin gushed, and the combs did indeed look quite striking against her black hair.

"You are a shameless flatterer, Professor Lupin," Selima retorted, but she looked pleased, and the boys grinned happily. They had fretted a little over what to get Lady Snape for Christmas; Theodore in particular had wanted to make a good impression on his new grandmother.

Vorcher picked up the next box, read the tag, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Th-this must be a mistake," he stuttered. "The tag says 'to Vorcher'."

"It's not a mistake," Lupin assured him. "The gift is for you."

"No one has ever given Vorcher a present before," the house-elf sniffled.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Selima said. "What's next, presents for the owl, too?"

"Actually, I did buy owl treats for Socrates and Blodwen, although I didn't wrap them," Lupin said cheerily, and Selima sighed heavily.

"Just tell me that you didn't give him clothes, Lupin," Snape muttered. Not that he was overly-fond of Vorcher, but his mother would have a fit if Lupin freed the house-elf.

"Of course not," Lupin said reproachfully. "The point of a gift is to make the recipient happy." And Vorcher would hardly be happy if he were freed, however much Lupin might disapprove of the enforced servitude of house-elves.

The present turned out to be a box of sweets from Honeydukes. "Thank you, Master Severus, Master Lupin," Vorcher said happily, hugging the box to his chest.

Snape gave Lupin a horrified look. "Did you have to put _my_ name on the tag?!" he demanded. "I didn't have anything to do with it!"

Lupin patted him on the arm in a soothing manner. "It's Christmas, Severus. Don't be such a grump."

All the presents seemed to be gone, so Selima dismissed Vorcher, and he scampered off to the kitchen to fix breakfast, still sniffling happily and clutching his box of candy. Lupin looked puzzled and a little hurt, and Snape cleared his throat and said gruffly, "There should be one more present under the tree."

Dylan crawled under the tree to look for it. "Ah, here it is," he said, finding it hidden beneath the overhanging branches. It was a very small box, only a few inches square, wrapped in silver and green paper. "No wonder we nearly missed it," he said, handing the box to Lupin. 

Lupin smiled at Snape and said apologetically, "I should have known you wouldn't have forgotten me." He examined the box curiously. "Hmm, it's a bit too small to be a robe."

"Oh, just open it, Lupin," Snape growled, looking a little embarrassed and casting a nervous glance in his mother's direction.

Now Lupin was really intrigued. He eagerly tore off the paper, exposing a small, velvet-covered jewelry box. He pushed back the lid and gasped softly.

"What is it, Remus?" Theodore asked, and the boys crowded around him, eager to see what Snape had given him. It was a gold ring, engraved with a design of running wolves that circled the entire band.

"Oh, Severus," Lupin whispered, "it's beautiful." He lifted the ring out of the box with a trembling hand and slipped it onto his finger; it was a perfect fit. He looked up at his lover and smiled, eyes filled with tears. For all that he complained about public displays of affection and claimed that he didn't care that they couldn't get married, the crotchety Potions Master was a romantic at heart. Still, such gestures didn't come easily to Severus, and Lupin was deeply touched by his gift. Although he'd been careful up until now to behave with a certain degree of decorum in order to avoid offending Lady Selima, all such thoughts flew out of his head as he kissed Snape soundly on the mouth, then hugged him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he whispered fervently.

"Er...you're welcome, Remus," Snape said awkwardly, his face flushed. He really should have given the ring to Lupin in private, but he hadn't thought to buy Lupin a second gift, and he would have been hurt if Snape had not given him a present in front of the others. Besides, he hadn't anticipated this strong a reaction--he'd hoped that Lupin would be pleased with his gift, of course, but figured that he'd save the kissing and hugging until they were alone. He gingerly patted Lupin on the back, not wanting to hurt his feelings by pushing him away, but he was afraid to look at his mother and see her reaction. He braced himself for an explosion, but all he heard was a resigned, slightly irritated sigh. He risked a glance at his mother, and saw a very strange expression on her face; he wasn't quite sure what it was...regret, perhaps? And possibly a hint of envy...or was he imagining things? Then she saw him looking at her, and her cool, composed mask immediately slipped over her face again.

"Professor Lupin," Selima sighed, "could you please control yourself?"

"I beg your pardon, Lady Selima," Lupin said with a grin, pulling away from Snape and quickly running his sleeve across his eyes. "You know how sentimental we Gryffindors can get."

"Indeed," Selima said dryly, rising to her feet. "I'll see you in the dining room. Vorcher should have breakfast ready in a few minutes. 

"What about all this...?" Lupin gestured towards the torn wrapping paper and ribbons lying on the floor, as well as the stacks of opened presents.

"Vorcher will clean it up later, of course," Selima said, in a tone that said it should be perfectly obvious, then left the room. 

The boys followed her, after thanking Lupin and Snape once again for their presents. "It was a great Christmas," Dylan said, grinning widely.

"The best!" Theodore agreed emphatically.

"I'm glad," Lupin said, and then he and Snape were left alone in the drawing room. He wrapped his arms around Snape's neck and smiled at him tenderly. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Remus," Snape said and gave him a long, lingering kiss before they reluctantly parted and joined the others in the dining room for breakfast.

*** 

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Draco disappeared immediately after breakfast, when McGonagall told him that a special package had been delivered to the school office for him. He ran off, looking eager and excited, and the rest of the Slytherins returned to the dorm.

They gathered in the common room, exchanging presents with each other or showing off the presents they'd gotten from home. "I wonder what Draco got, that an owl couldn't just drop off in the Great Hall?" Crabbe mused out loud.

"Aw, it's probably just something from his Mummy that was too heavy for the family owl to carry," Aric said, sneering a little just on principle, but he was in a good mood after opening his own presents, and was feeling too lazy and mellow to pick a fight this morning. Apparently Crabbe and Goyle were disinclined to fight, too, because they let his insult pass without comment.

"Luna gave me a model Thestral," Crabbe said proudly, showing it off to Goyle.

"Is that really what they look like?" Aric asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he stared at the model, which looked like a skeletal, bat-winged horse.

Crabbe and Goyle, and several of the other students stared at him in surprise. "You mean you can't see them?" Goyle asked.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Aric drawled, "but I've never killed anyone, nor seen anyone be killed."

"Maybe Durmstrang's reputation is slightly overrated, after all," Brad joked. "I thought there would be dead bodies piled up all over the place!"

"No, but rumor has it that there are a few buried in the basement," Aric said with a straight face, and enjoyed watching the expressions on Crabbe's and Goyle's faces as they tried to figure out whether he was joking or not.

Just then, Draco walked in, carrying a large red gift bag and a large red-and-green striped box topped off with a red bow. Curiously, there were several holes punched into the lid of the box. "Merry Christmas, Avery," he said nervously, handing her the box.

"Why, thank you, Draco," Serafina replied, rewarding him with one of her rare smiles, then froze when the box moved--or rather, something inside it moved, causing the box to shift in her hands. Very slowly and carefully, she set the box down on the floor and removed the lid. A reddish-brown kitten with large, pointed ears and bright, intelligent golden eyes poked its head out and looked at her inquisitively. Serafina just sat there, her face frozen and expressionless, and Draco worried that this might not have been such a good idea after all, although the werewolf was usually right about these sorts of things.

"Lupin said he thought you might like a familiar," Draco said, a little defensively.

The kitten mewed at her anxiously, and Serafina stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and tentatively running a finger along its forehead. The kitten jumped out of the box, crawled onto her lap, and mewed at her in a commanding, imperious tone. Serafina smiled a little, and began to stroke the kitten, who purred loudly.

Draco let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's an Abyssinian," he explained, still enough of a Malfoy to want her to know that he had gotten her an expensive purebreed, and not just some alley cat. "They're believed to have originated in Egypt, since they resemble cats in ancient Egyptian paintings and sculptures."

"So maybe this cat's ancestor was the pet of a Pharaoh," Millicent said whimsically. She was fond of cats herself, and owned a large black Persian male named Sable.

"They're supposed to be very intelligent," Draco added.

"Thank you, Draco," Serafina said, smiling at him again; whatever misgivings she'd had about the cat seemed to have vanished. "He's very beautiful."

"Er, actually it's a she."

Serafina gazed at the kitten thoughtfully as it continued to purr, a blissful expression on its face. "Then, since she is an Egyptian cat, I will name her 'Bast,' after the Egyptian goddess of cats," Serafina decided, and Bast mewed in a way that seemed somehow approving.

"Glad you like her," Draco said, looking very relieved, and handed her the red bag. "I also got some stuff for the cat--er, I mean, Bast. Food, bowls, bed, litter box, catnip mouse..."

Several of the students, particularly the girls, gathered around to fuss over the new kitten. Sable looked a bit disgruntled about all the attention that the newcomer was getting, and Millicent stroked him, whispering, "Be nice now, Sable; you've got to look after her. She's like a first-year, and you're an upperclassman." The cat did not look convinced. "And Avery's an expert at casting curses, and she's likely to turn you into a rat if you're mean to her familiar." Sable looked alarmed, then reluctantly walked over to greet Bast, who purred and rubbed up against him.

"Oh, how sweet!" Miriam said. "They like each other!" Sable gave his mistress an aggrieved look that seemed to say, "Why me?" and Millicent just laughed.

Meanwhile, Aric lounged in an armchair by the fireplace, only half-listening as Yvonne prattled at him and showed off some new jewelry and clothes that her family had given her for Christmas. Her endless chatter did get rather tiresome, but she was very pretty, and Aric did feel a certain satisfaction that he was able to get a date to the Ball when his cousin had not. Still, he didn't think he'd be interested in pursuing a relationship with Yvonne beyond going to the Ball, and besides, there was no point in getting too attached to any one girl when his parents would arrange a suitable marriage for him when the time came. 

Hopefully they'd allow him some choice in the matter, but he would still be expected to choose from a list of candidates that they had selected and approved. Yvonne came from a well-to-do pureblood family (although they were not as wealthy as the Snapes or Malfoys), so it was possible that he might end up marrying her after all, although he found the prospect a little dismaying. 

He supposed his sister Erika would say that Yvonne was not to blame for being so shallow and flighty, because she was exactly what pureblood girls were expected to be: pretty, decorative, and empty-headed, with no ambition other than to someday marry a handsome and wealthy pureblood man. His sister was pretty (though he would never admit that to her face), but she was definitely not empty-headed; it was something of a sore point with her that Aric would inherit the Dietrich estate even though she was the older sibling. That had caused some friction between them over the years--although they loved each other, Erika resented him for being the heir just because he was male, and Aric felt pressured to prove that he was worthy of the title, which was no easy task when Erika had been a top-ranked student at Durmstrang. 

It helped a little that she was now working abroad at one of Gringotts' overseas branches; a little distance seemed to make things less strained between them--absence makes the heart grow fonder, as the saying went. He had told her a little about Master Bleddri's classes in his letters to her, and this Christmas she had sent him a beautiful rapier with a jeweled handle. His parents had indulged him and paid for his fencing lessons, but they thought that physical combat was a waste of time for a wizard. 

But Erika understood how much he loved it, and although they fought constantly, she had never teased or taunted him about this one subject. They both knew, without ever openly discussing it, that he had taken up fencing because Rafe had loved it, and that he had continued with it after Rafe's death because it made him feel closer to his uncle. So although his older sister frequently got on his nerves, he was touched by her gift of the sword, which was something his parents or grandparents would never have thought of giving him.

He had gotten nice presents from his family, though, including a set of new robes (black and gold) for the Yule Ball, and an antique gold pocketwatch that was a family heirloom. He remembered that he always used to pester his grandfather to let him play with it as a child, because he loved the way that the cover snapped open and shut. It was time now, his grandfather said, to pass it on to the future heir of the Dietrich estate.

Aric had also received a gift from Takeshi, a book of medical spells. His detention had not really been so bad; he worked hard at the clinic, but Takeshi was always kind to him, giving him some tips on what to expect on his N.E.W.T.s and what sorts of things he should study in order to apply for a job at St. Mungo's. Even Kyra would joke around with him in a friendly manner when she stopped by to help at the clinic. And he enjoyed working on the Wolfsbane Potion even though it smelled foul.

"If you think it smells bad, you should try tasting it," Bleddri had said dryly.

Aric had to admit that Bleddri had been decent to him. The werewolf had been satisfied that he'd been working hard and behaving himself after the first day, so he'd let Aric take some time off the next day to go with Takeshi to St. Mungo's and get tested for a Healing Gift. The Healer who tested him informed him that he did indeed have a minor Gift, and that they would certainly be interested in hiring him as mediwizard if he did well on his N.E.W.T.s. 

The following day, Bleddri had skipped going to the clinic, and instead had Aric help him clean and polish the weapons in the Physical Defense classroom. They'd also done a little sparring afterwards, which Aric had enjoyed. It was still an unfair match because of the werewolf's inhuman strength and reflexes, but Aric felt that he had closed the gap slightly. Bleddri had been sweating and panting a little by the time they were done, and he had given Aric a wolfish grin and said, "Not bad; you gave me quite a workout. We should do this more often; I think I'm getting a little soft, working at Hogwarts." He had felt quite proud of himself then, especially since Bleddri didn't evince any "softness" that Aric could see.

Aric sighed, suddenly feeling a little melancholic. There was no one he could share that feeling of pride with, because there was no one at Hogwarts that he felt close enough to confide in, and his parents didn't approve of either Physical Defense classes or werewolf teachers. Even Erika wouldn't understand why he would take pride in a werewolf's praise; Aric wasn't sure that he understood it himself. Bleddri was a worthy adversary, he finally decided--whether you liked him or not, you had to respect that. And he felt pleased that Bleddri seemed to find him a worthy adversary in return. 

Well, maybe he could talk to Takeshi about it--the mediwizard certainly had no problem regarding werewolves with respect. And Kyra would probably think it was funny that he had been able to make the "Pack Leader" (as she referred to Bleddri) sweat. It was strange, but Aric was almost looking forward to resuming his detention and going back to the clinic.

"Are you listening to me, Aric?" Yvonne pouted. 

Aric's history teacher at Durmstrang was almost as boring as Professor Binns, and he had long ago learned the art of paying just enough attention to pick up a few key phrases to prove that you were listening to the speaker, even when you really weren't. "Yes, you said that your father gave you that necklace for Christmas. It's very pretty."

Yvonne smiled, looking satisfied. "I'm going to wear it to the Ball tonight. And the new dress that Mummy gave me, and--where are you going, Aric?"

"Detention," Aric lied. Bleddri had actually given him the day off since it was Christmas, but he wanted to get away from Yvonne's chatter for a little while, and he wanted to try out his new rapier. "I'm supposed to polish weapons for Bleddri."

"You'd think that Master Bleddri could at least let you have Christmas Day off!" Yvonne said indignantly.

Aric shrugged. "It's not really his fault. Dumbledore's the one who handed out the detention; Bleddri's just following orders. Besides, it beats scrubbing bedpans or gutting horny toads."

He went down to the Physical Defense classroom, and both he and Bleddri were surprised to find each other there. The werewolf was sitting alone in the middle of the room, looking pensive and a little unhappy. "Mr. Dietrich," Bleddri said, looking up with a start. "I thought I told you that you could have today off."

"I know," Aric replied. "But I felt like getting away from Slytherin for a little while, and I thought I might try out my new present." He unsheathed the rapier. 

"Is it anything more than a pretty toy?" Bleddri asked, gazing at the sword dubiously. 

"Try it yourself and see," Aric replied, offering it to the werewolf hilt first. Bleddri hefted it experimentally, then took a couple of swings at the empty air; Aric was careful to stand a good distance away.

"Not bad," Bleddri said, tossing the sword back to Aric, who caught it neatly. "Good balance, good grip. But you know I can't let you use that in class." The werewolf smiled sardonically. "Draco's bloody nose was bad enough. Imagine the parents' reaction if you accidentally ran someone through!"

"I know," Aric said with a grin. "I wasn't expecting you to be here, but perhaps we could spar a bit if you don't mind? I don't think that there's much chance of me running you through!" Bleddri laughed, and Aric asked curiously, "Why are you here, anyway? I thought you were going to spend Christmas with your pack."

Bleddri looked uncomfortable and said, somewhat evasively, "I did sleep over last night and open presents with them this morning, but...I felt like being alone, so I came back early."

"Oh," Aric said, feeling disappointed. "Well, if you want to be alone, then..."

But the werewolf shook his head. "No, actually, I could use a little workout." He took one of the practice swords down from the racks on the wall. "Come then, let's try out your new blade..."

*** 

About an hour later, Aric sauntered back to the dungeon, looking sweaty and tired but pleased with himself. Lukas felt better, too, the physical exertion having banished some of his demons. He went back to his quarters to take a shower, and the sight of his Christmas presents laid out across his bed reminded him of why he'd wanted to be alone. Selima had sent him what nearly amounted to an entire wardrobe for Christmas--not just a very fine set of velvet robes, but also shirts and trousers made of silk and good linen. He had to look like a proper pureblood Lord when he appeared in court, her card explained.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, and Takeshi had also given him robes for Christmas, so he certainly had enough clothing to look the part, but he still felt like an impostor, and wondered if he was doing the right thing by challenging Amos for the title. Not that he thought his uncle deserved to keep the title, but Lukas knew that the pureblood elite would never truly accept him as one of their own, no matter how fine his robes were. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life being sneered at and gossiped about behind his back?

_They will do that anyway, whether you regain the title or not,_ he reminded himself. He had might as well reap the benefits along with the disadvantages. And Snape had managed to put up with the gossip and disdain and name-calling for all these years, first as a Death Eater, and then when his relationship with Lupin was made public. Lukas felt a grudging respect for the Potions Master, even if he wasn't always sure that he liked Snape.

The Snape family was turning out to be something of a thorn in his side, but Lady Selima was right when she said that it would be cowardly to try to run and hide from his fate. He touched Gwendolyn's present, a heavy gold torc that had belonged to his father, a gift from Anya to Cynric on their wedding day. The Gravenors had swept Anya and Lukas off in such haste after Cynric's death, that most of his father's possessions had been left behind. He had assumed that the Diggorys had destroyed them, or at best locked them away in the attic, but the torc, at least, had survived.

"I kept this," Gwendolyn's card read, "because I knew how much your father loved it, and I wanted something to remember him by. I always meant to return it to Anya someday, but she never came back to London, and died before I could give it back to her. So now I am returning it to you, Cyril. I think your father would want you to have it."

Lukas slipped the torc around his neck, the metal cold against his skin, and turned to look at his reflection in the mirror. The torc was the sort of thing that Slytherins found beautiful, but that others found sinister-looking: the ends of the collar had been fashioned to resemble serpent heads, and it looked like he had a double-headed gold serpent coiled around his neck. Looking into the mirror was like seeing his father's ghost, and Lukas's hand trembled slightly as he reached up to touch the torc.

"For your sake, Father," he whispered to the mirror's reflection, "I will win back the title and become Lord Diggory, no matter what Amos and the other purebloods say."

*** 

Later that evening at Snape Manor, Snape and his family gathered together in the drawing room to say goodbye to Lady Selima before heading over to Hogwarts for the Yule Ball.

"My, how handsome you all look in your new robes," Selima said lightly, and the boys and Lupin grinned at her while Snape fidgeted impatiently. While his stay at Snape Manor had been surprisingly pleasant, he was looking forward to getting away from it for a little while. Hogwarts was still more "home" to him than the Manor was, and besides, he was hoping that he and Lupin could sneak away from the Ball early and spend some time alone in their quarters. "By the way, Theodore," Selima asked, "who are you taking to the Ball this year?"

"No one," Theodore replied, and Selima frowned slightly. "I waited too long before asking anyone," he added, feigning regret. "I was preoccupied with my studies, and before I knew it, all the Slytherin girls my age had dates. I thought perhaps I could go with Serafina as a friend, but then Draco surprised everyone by asking her out."

"There will be plenty of time for dancing and girls after graduation," Snape said firmly. Personally, he thought the Ball was a waste of time, although for once, he appreciated it, because it gave him a welcome excuse to leave the house.

"The Yule Ball is not just a chance for the young people to dance and flirt with each other, Severus," Selima said sternly. "It is an opportunity to socialize with one's peers, make alliances, and demonstrate one's social standing." To her grandson, she said, "Your dedication to your studies is commendable, but you must not neglect your social responsibilities as well."

"Yes, Grandmother," Theodore said meekly. "I will be more careful in the future."

"The Ball will likely end late," Snape said casually, "so we'll sleep over at Hogwarts and return in the morning after breakfast." Dylan and Theodore smiled, so he assumed that they were looking forward to spending some time with their respective paramours as well.

"I shan't wait up for you, then," Selima replied pleasantly. "Have a good time at the Ball."

"Are you sure you won't come with us?" Lupin asked, ignoring Snape's look of horror. He felt a little guilty about leaving Selima alone in an empty house on Christmas night. "The Headmaster has invited several alumni to the Ball, and I'm sure he would be happy to see you."

"No, thank you," Selima replied, much to Snape's relief. "I'm looking forward to having some peace and quiet for a change. I think I shall sit by the fire, drink some tea, and read a good book. Perhaps I can start translating Severus's Potions text."

"Well then, goodnight, Mother," Snape said, and hastily went through the Floo before his mother could change her mind. The boys followed, after politely saying goodbye to Selima.

Lupin lingered behind for a moment. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked anxiously, although he knew that Selima's pride probably wouldn't let her answer in the negative regardless of her true feelings. "I always hated spending Christmases alone." He had spent a few very bleak Christmases alone, after his parents died and before he reconciled with Severus.

But Selima gave him what appeared to be a sincere smile and said, "Thank you, Professor, but I will stay home tonight. It is my gift to Severus, you see. He has been remarkably well-behaved and reasonable of late, although I know that behaving like a proper pureblood Lord is something of a strain on him, so I wish to reward him. And I am sure that he would appreciate an evening away from Snape Manor and his duties as Lord."

Lupin smiled at her and said gently, "It is true that Severus is uncomfortable with his role as Lord Snape, but he has enjoyed his stay here, and so have the boys and I." Selima looked thoughtful, but said nothing in response, so Lupin said, "Merry Christmas, Lady Selima. We'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Merry Christmas, Professor," Selima replied, and Lupin flung a handful of Floo Powder in the fireplace, and stepped through to join his lover and sons at Hogwarts.

*** 

Draco, along with several other Slytherin boys in the common room, was waiting impatiently for his date to emerge. Then the girls glided in, proudly showing off their new robes, and Draco started to say, "Finally!" but his voice trailed off and his jaw dropped open in shock when he spotted Serafina.

She had done something to her hair to make it wavy and less limp-looking, and framing each side of her face were several thin braids, swinging gently as she walked forward, the purple beads that weighted the ends clacking softly against each other. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks and lips that made her look less pale than usual, and she had used some kind of cosmetics (eyeliner? eyeshadow?) around her eyes, a very subtle shading that nevertheless made her violet eyes stand out dramatically. The simply cut but elegant violet robe she wore also enhanced and called attention to the remarkable color of her eyes.

Serafina smiled self-consciously. "Do I look that silly? I told Parvati and Pansy and Millicent that I didn't want to fuss with all these braids and makeup and whatnot..."

"You look beautiful, Avery!" Draco blurted out, still looking shocked.

No one had ever called Serafina "beautiful" before, and she wondered if Draco was just being polite, although it was a little out of character for him to be careful of another person's feelings. And when he was deliberately flattering someone to curry favor, he usually did so in a much more smooth and polished manner.

But the other boys were staring at her with similarly stunned expressions. "You look really nice, Sera," Theodore said, looking impressed.

"Merlin's Beard!" Damien muttered, looking as slack-jawed as Draco. "Who could ever have imagined...?"

It was Crabbe and Goyle who finally convinced her that Draco's reaction was sincere. "Wow, you look great!" Goyle exclaimed, and Crabbe nodded vigorously in agreement. The other Slytherin boys were capable of dissembling, but Crabbe and Goyle were not. They had no subtlety, and on the few occasions that they tried to lie, it was always painfully obvious.

"Thank you," Serafina belatedly replied to Draco, who smiled and offered her his arm, saying, "Shall we, then?"

She was a little worried about leaving her new kitten alone all evening, but Slaine, Miriam, and Patrick promised to baby-sit Bast, and the kitten seemed perfectly content, curled up against Sable's side on the rug beside the hearth. The older cat looked less than thrilled about the situation, but didn't try to push the kitten away.

So Serafina laid her hand on Draco's arm, and he escorted her out of the dorm. Pansy and Millicent giggled, looking very smug and pleased with themselves.

*** 

Lupin was surrounded by a crowd of Slytherin students soon after he entered the Great Hall, all eager to know if he liked their gift. "Of course I do!" Lupin laughed. "I'm wearing it, aren't I?" He spun around playfully, letting the robe billow out around him. "I don't think I've ever been so well-dressed before! Thank you all very much."

The Slytherins were pleased, but out of the corner of his eye, Lupin saw the Gryffindor students staring at him in shock. A few, like Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, gave him hostile, suspicious looks, while others looked shocked, and Harry looked a little hurt. Lupin silently cursed himself; he had been so happy that the Slytherins had accepted him, that he hadn't stopped to think that the Gryffindors, particularly Harry, might see his wearing a Slytherin robe as a rejection of them. He sighed a little, thinking that he might have to start wearing Gryffindor and Slytherin colors on alternating days.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" Pansy asked.

"Nothing at all," Lupin lied, forcing himself to smile cheerfully. It would only increase the tension between the two Houses if he pointed out that the Gryffindors didn't appreciate seeing him in Slytherin colors.

There was one Gryffindor, at least, who didn't seem bothered by his new robe. "You look so handsome, Professor Lupin!" Allegra exclaimed as she ran up to him, followed by her "date," Goyle.

"Why, thank you, Allegra," Lupin said with a smile. "You look very pretty yourself." 

"Portia lent me the dress," Allegra informed him brightly. "Isn't it nice?"

It was a nice enough red dress, with a bit too much lace around the neck and sleeves for Lupin's taste, but Allegra obviously liked it, which was the most important thing. "It's lovely," Lupin agreed.

"You look really nice tonight, Allegra," Goyle said gallantly.

"Thank you, Greg!" Allegra replied, beaming at him. "So do you. Say, Professor, have you seen Dylan and Theo? I want to know if they liked their keychains."

"They're right over there with Professor Snape," Lupin said, pointing across the room, where they had stopped to speak with Math and Goewin, who had come to the Ball as guests of Dumbledore. Dylan was accompanied by his date, Hermione. "And yes, they did like your presents very much."

"C'mon, Greg, let's go say hi to them!" Allegra tugged at Goyle's hand, and he smiled at her indulgently and meekly followed along. Lupin smiled after them, amused and touched by the sight of the former bully being so gentle and considerate of the little girl.

Just then, Millicent walked in with Miles Bletchley, and the Slytherins left Lupin's side to cluster around them, welcoming the former Slytherin Keeper like a returning hero. The students were all talking excitedly at once, so it was difficult to follow their conversation, but Lupin was able to gather that Miles, a reserve player for the Falmouth Falcons, had been called upon to replace the regular Keeper after he was injured by a Bludger during a recent match, and that he had successfully defended the goals, contributing to the Falcons' ten-point victory over the Tutshill Tornados. Miles smiled smugly, basking in the adoration of his House.

Millicent, too, was smiling like a cat with a bowl of cream, but for an entirely different reason. She held up her left hand, displaying a glittering diamond ring. "My Christmas present from Miles," she said, and the Slytherin girls shrieked with excitement. 

"Oh my God!" Yvonne squealed, her voice rising nearly a full octave in pitch, and Aric winced, as did several other students standing nearby. "Are you engaged?!"

"I'm your best friend!" Pansy said reproachfully. "How could you not tell me about this?"

"Miles just gave it to me few minutes ago, right before we came to the Ball," Millicent explained.

"Now that I'm a full-fledged player, I can afford to support a wife," Miles said, grinning from ear-to-ear. 

"But aren't you still a reserve player?" Aric asked, rubbing his ear. "Won't the regular Keeper take over in the next game?"

"He has a cracked skull," Miles said cheerfully. "He'll be laid up in St. Mungo's for a few months, and he says he intends to retire before his brains are permanently scrambled. So I'm now the official Keeper for the Falmouth Falcons." 

The Slytherins cheered loudly, and Lupin came over and said, "Congratulations, Miles, on both the promotion and your engagement."

Miles shook Lupin's outstretched hand, still grinning. "Thanks, Professor."

"And congratulations to you, too, Millicent. Have you set a date?"

"Thank you, Professor, and no, not yet. We'll have to wait until I graduate, of course. Perhaps next fall or winter."

"A Christmas wedding would be very romantic," Pansy sighed. "Can I be a bridesmaid?"

"No," Millicent replied, and Pansy looked crestfallen. "Because you'll be my maid of honor, silly," Millicent added with a grin. The two girls hugged each other.

"Er...congratulations," Justin said, extending his hand towards Miles. He looked a little uncomfortable standing amongst the crowd of Slytherins.

"Uh, thanks," Miles said, shaking Justin's hand and giving him a puzzled look, as if trying to place his name and face.

"Oh, Miles, this is Justin Finch-Fletchley," Pansy said gaily, gesturing towards her date with one hand, and not so incidentally showing off the wrist corsage of roses that Justin had given her. "You remember him, don't you?"

"Oh right," Miles said, "the one who nearly got killed by a snake in Lockhart's dueling club." He gave Justin an even more puzzled look. "Aren't you a Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, I am," Justin said in an even voice, then smiled and flushed a little as Pansy came over and slipped her arm through his.

"Things are different in Slytherin now," Pansy declared.

"So I've heard," Miles said, his eyes flickering in Lupin's direction, then across the room towards Snape. Then he shrugged and laughed, "Well, you lot will have to get me caught up on all the House gossip!"

Pleased that Justin seemed to be getting along all right with the Slytherins, Lupin excused himself and headed over to join Snape and the others. He was distracted, though, when a pretty brown-haired woman walked into the Hall with a very handsome and dashing-looking dark-haired man. Isabelle Laroque ran towards them, her normally reserved face filled with joy. "Maman, Papa!" she cried, hugging them both, and began chattering at them rapidly in French.

"You should speak English, my sweet, as we were are home in England now," Emilie Laroque nee Prewett gently admonished.

"Yes, Mother," Isabelle said obediently, immediately switching languages.

Lupin detoured to greet the Laroques and said, "Merry Christmas, Emilie. It's so good to see you again. I didn't know that you were coming to the Ball tonight." He knew her, though not very well, from when her older brothers had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. They had also gone to Hogwarts together, although they had not often socialized, since she was a few years younger than him and had been sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Merry Christmas, Remus," Emilie said. "The Headmaster invited us, and I was eager to get a look at my old school again." She smiled, looking around the hall. "It doesn't seem as if much has changed. This is my husband, Thierry, and of course you know Isabelle. My dear, this is Remus Lupin; he worked in the Order with my brothers, and is now a Professor at Hogwarts."

Thierry shook Lupin's hand, and said in a heavily-accented voice, "I am very pleased to meet you, Professor."

"Likewise," Lupin said. He smiled and said pleasantly, "It's so fortunate that Isabelle is bilingual; not many of the British students are, these days. We had a young and homesick first-year student who just moved here from France, and Isabelle has looked after her and made her feel at home. We're very grateful to her." Isabelle gave Lupin a startled look. He smiled warmly at her, and she gave him a hesitant smile in return.

"Yes, little Gabrielle," Thierry said, smiling at his daughter fondly. "Isabelle has mentioned her often in her letters to home."

"Isabelle has always been a good girl," Emilie said, kissing her daughter on the cheek.

"Mother!" Isabelle protested, looking embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

"Yes, it's true that the school used to place more emphasis on learning second languages, back when Hogwarts had more contact with Beauxbatons and the other foreign wizarding schools," Emilie continued. "But the war led to distrust and isolationism."

By this time, Stewart had made his way over to join the group, having followed at a more sedate pace when his date rushed across the room to greet her parents. "Mother, Father," Isabelle said, "this is my friend, Stewart Ackerley. He is my escort this evening."

"Hello, it's very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Laroque," Stewart said, a little nervously.

"He looks like a fine young man," Thierry said heartily, shaking Stewart's hand. "I am sure that you will look after my daughter and conduct yourself as a proper gentlemen should, yes, Stewart?" Thierry's voice was pleasant, but there was a protective and slightly threatening gleam in his eyes.

"Papa!" Isabelle protested, but she smiled a little.

"Of course, sir!" Stewart assured Thierry, looking even more nervous.

Lupin chuckled and Emilie laughed gently. "Fathers are always protective of their little girls, I suppose," Emilie said, then gave her husband a stern look. "Behave yourself, Thierry."

"I was only making polite conversation," Thierry protested innocently.

Lupin chatted with the Laroques for a few more minutes, then finally made his way over to his lover and sons. They, along with Hermione, were talking with Branwen, Sirius, and Narcissa; the latter two were also special guests of Dumbledore's. Lupin gave his best friend a hug, then smiled at Draco's mother and said, "You look lovely tonight, Narcissa." She looked as elegant as always, in a robe of Slytherin-green velvet with silver piping, and silver lacing on the bodice. Her blonde hair was pulled back in an elegant knot, showing off her silver-and-emerald earrings to full effect. "What pretty earrings; are they a Christmas gift?"

Narcissa smiled, looking pleased, and reached up unconsciously to touch an earring with one hand. "Yes, they're from Draco. He designed them himself."

Lupin winked at Dylan. "My, the Slytherin boys seem to have such good fashion sense!" Everyone laughed but Snape, who just snorted.

Another commotion arose as a green-clad figure entered the Hall; it took Lupin a few moments to recognize the handsome, aristocratic stranger as his friend Lukas. The werewolf leader was dressed in green velvet robes that were several shades darker than Narcissa's, with gold trim and fastenings, and there was a gold torc around his neck. As he drew closer, Lupin could see that he was clean-shaven for a change, and that he had tied back his hair into a neat tail with a green velvet ribbon. Lupin noticed for the first time that Lukas wore a gold hoop in each ear; one of the earrings had what looked like a small emerald dangling from it. He had no idea whether Lukas normally wore earrings or not, since the other werewolf usually wore his hair down loose, covering his ears.

"My goodness," Branwen said, raising her eyebrows. "He certainly cleans up nicely." 

Sirius slipped an arm around her waist. "Hmmph!" he snorted, pretending to be angry. "I'm not going to have to be jealous of that pretty-boy werewolf, am I?"

Branwen reached up to pat him on the cheek. "Of course not, dear. Don't go all alpha-male on me. If you start a fight at the Ball with Lukas, you'll be sleeping on the couch for a month."

Sirius kissed his wife. "Then I guess I'd better behave myself," he said with a grin, "because I have certain plans for tonight that don't involve sleeping on the couch--that don't involve sleeping, period." Hermione's face turned bright red, and Theodore and Dylan looked a little bemused rather than embarrassed. They still weren't used to viewing Branwen as someone's wife rather than the demonic Professor Blackmore who struck fear into the hearts of her students.

"Must you do that in public?" Snape complained.

"Now you have an idea of how nauseous I get watching you and Moony get all lovey-dovey with each other all the time," Sirius said good-naturedly.

Hermione giggled, still blushing, while Dylan and Theodore tried not to laugh.

Snape glared at his former enemy. "I do not get 'lovey-dovey' with Lupin, as you put it," he said coldly. "I can't help it if the werewolf mauls me in public."

Lupin couldn't resist a challenge, and he immediately wrapped his arms around Snape, cuddling up against him.

"You see what I mean?! Damn it, Lupin, cut that out!"

Lupin laughed and released his lover, and then Sirius happened to notice the light glinting off something shiny on Lupin's left hand. "Is that a ring, Moony?"

"Oh, yes!" Lupin said happily, extending his hand to show off the ring, much as Millicent had earlier. "It was a present from Severus." Snape immediately turned red.

"Oh, how pretty!" Hermione exclaimed. "I love the wolf design."

Sirius grinned at Snape slyly and said, "It looks an awful lot like a wedding band."

Snape's face turned even redder, and he sputtered out a rather incoherent denial. Lupin beamed; Branwen looked amused; Narcissa looked perplexed, not being used to the trio's antics; and Sirius burst out laughing. Snape's hand drifted towards his wand, but Sirius was saved from being hexed when Lukas joined the group and distracted them.

"My, don't you look handsome tonight?" Lupin teased his friend as Snape glared at the werewolf leader jealously. "Though not as handsome as you, Severus," Lupin crooned placatingly, stroking his lover's arm.

Snape's face turned red again. "I have many faults, Lupin, but vanity is not one of them," he said huffily, but the jealousy vanished from his face. "No need to flatter me."

"But I do think you're handsome!" Lupin protested earnestly.

Snape snorted derisively, but he looked more amused than annoyed. "I always said that Gryffindors had no taste."

"You look very nice tonight, Lukas," Branwen said politely.

The werewolf looked uncomfortable, and reached up to fiddle nervously with the torc around his neck. "The robe was a gift from Lady Selima," he said. "She wants me to look the part of a proper pureblood Lord."

"You do," Lupin assured him. "You look very lordly." And even Snape had to nod in grudging agreement. Narcissa looked confused, and Lupin said, "Oh, excuse me. Lukas, this is Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. Narcissa, this is Lukas Bleddri, our Physical Defense and Interspecies Relations instructor."

"You?" Narcissa asked, looking stunned. "You're the werewolf who's stirred up the wizarding world by challenging Amos for the Diggory title?"

"Yes, and it's nice to meet you, too, Lady Malfoy," Lukas said sarcastically.

Before Narcissa could reply, Dumbledore had taken his place at the head table, and was asking everyone to take their seats so that dinner could be served. They broke off their conversation, and the students hurried over to their respective tables while the teachers and adults went to join Dumbledore at the head table.

*** 

Harry grinned when he saw Ginny walk into the common room wearing the hairclips he had bought her. As it turned out, she was wearing a red robe with gold embroidery, so the garnet-and-gold hairclips matched her outfit perfectly.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said, smiling at him as she reached up to touch one of the clips. "I love these; they're very pretty."

Rosier probably would have made a smooth comeback like, "So are you," but Harry wasn't Dylan Rosier, and he was worried that the words would sound trite or forced coming out of his mouth. So he settled for saying, "You're welcome. I thought I ought to make up for Bane stealing your hairclip during the summer." She looked puzzled, so Harry explained about Bane's treasure hoard in the attic.

"So that's where it went!" Ginny laughed. "Well, Bane can keep that one; I think I definitely got the better end of the bargain!" She added, a little shyly, "You look really nice tonight, Harry."

"So do you," Harry replied awkwardly, wishing he'd decided to attempt being smooth earlier. Wasn't it supposed to be the guy who told the girl she looked nice, not the other way around? He was wearing a new robe, a gift from Sirius and Blackmore, but he didn't think that he looked much different than he normally did; his hair as untidy and unruly as ever, despite his best efforts to tame it. He also would have preferred to be wearing something other than green (Slytherin colors), but Blackmore had picked out that particular robe because she said it matched his eyes, and he hadn't wanted to hurt his godparents' feelings.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked cheerfully as he and Hermione entered the common room. He was wearing a black robe that was a bit plain in comparison to some of the other students' outfits, but it was new, and exactly what he had requested his mother to buy for him. After the horrid maroon, lace-trimmed robes Mrs. Weasley had bought him in fourth year, Ron much preferred "plain," and he was thrilled to be wearing something new and not secondhand. Hermione looked very elegant in a robe of dark blue velvet, with her hair pinned up in a knot except for a couple of loose, curly tendrils of hair that hung down beside each ear. "You missed some," Ron said to Hermione, motioning to the loose tendrils, assuming they had slipped out of the knot.

"They're supposed to be there," Hermione informed him. "Parvati spent half an hour getting everything just right. She says it looks more feminine and less severe that way."

"Boys!" Parvati huffed indignantly. "They don't know anything about fashion! Except for Dylan, of course."

Ron just laughed, for once not jealous of Dylan. "That's because Rosier spends as much time on his hair and clothes as you girls!" 

Parvati and Lavender looked offended, but Hermione laughed along with Ron. "It's true," she admitted. "He is a bit of a peacock."

"But he is lovely to look at," Parvati sighed.

"Aren't you dating Pierce now?" Harry asked.

"That doesn't mean I've gone blind, Harry," Parvati said matter-of-factly and everyone laughed. 

When a boy was escorting a girl from another House to the Ball, it was considered courteous of him to meet her outside her dorm, which meant that while Damien, Dylan, and Brad were coming to Gryffindor Tower to pick up their dates, Ron had to go down to the dungeon to meet Daphne.

"Well, I've got to go pick up Daphne," Ron said. "We'll meet you guys in the Great Hall." He lowered his voice and added, "Remember not to mention the letter to anyone, okay? Her snooty housemates will give her a hard time if they find out; the Slytherins think it's not 'proper' for a girl to ask a guy out or something like that."

"I think that's silly," Ginny said, and she and Harry grinned at each other. "But I won't say anything."

"She's so shy," Hermione said, "that it's hard to believe she actually worked up the nerve to ask you out."

"Guess it must be the old Weasley charm," Harry laughed, slapping Ron on the back; his friend grinned proudly. Harry thought it was a bit odd that his friend was taking a Slytherin girl to the Ball, but Daphne seemed nice enough, and Ron had been floating on cloud nine ever since he'd received her letter. 

"No girl has ever asked me out before," Ron had confided in Harry earlier. "Bill always had girls crawling all over him, but none of them ever paid any attention to me." Harry knew Ron had been hurt that both of his love interests--Fleur and Hermione--had not returned his feelings, and that he had always felt overshadowed by his brothers and Harry, so he had been extremely flattered when Daphne invited him to the Ball. Harry wasn't sure whether Ron was really smitten with Daphne herself, or if he was just overjoyed that someone, anyone, was interested in him for himself. On the other hand, Ron hadn't been very flattered by Luna's crush on him, so maybe it really was love. Even if it was just infatuation, Harry was grateful to Daphne for making his friend so happy.

They left the dorm, and the three Slytherin boys were already waiting outside. Jack and Andrew muttered something about snakes under their breath, but Dylan ignored them, bowed to Hermione, and offered her his arm. She smiled at him and laid her hand on his arm, and they walked down the hall together. Harry took a deep breath, then bowed and offered his arm to Ginny--with not quite the same flair as Rosier, perhaps, but Ginny smiled and slipped her arm through his, and they headed to the Great Hall together.

Harry and Ginny took their seats at their assigned table. Dylan and Hermione were supposed to be sitting at the same table, along with Ron and Daphne, but they went over to say hello to Dylan's great-uncle and aunt first; Dumbledore had apparently invited a number of friends and alumni to attend the Ball this year. Harry had been a little surprised that Dylan was willing to sit among the Gryffindors rather than ask Hermione to sit with the Slytherins, but he was glad that he would be able to sit together with his two best friends. 

Snape and Lupin entered the Great Hall together, and Snape went over to talk to the Donners while Lupin was mobbed by a crowd of Slytherins. Harry's jaw dropped when he saw what Lupin was wearing--a fancy green dress robe emblazoned with the Slytherin crest!

"Wh-why's Lupin wearing a Slytherin robe?" Harry stammered, feeling stunned, and then a little hurt. "Even if he's living with Snape, he's still a Gryffindor!" Lupin glanced across the room and their eyes met for a moment; Lupin looked startled, then gave Harry a small, apologetic smile before turning his attention back to the Slytherins.

"I think the Slytherins gave it to him," Ginny said calmly. "I know they all chipped in to give him some sort of special, secret Christmas present. They've been excited about it for the last couple of weeks, but they wouldn't tell anyone outside of Slytherin what it was."

"And you know all this because...?" Harry asked.

"Because I pay attention to what's going on around me, and I talk to my Slytherin classmates," Ginny replied impatiently. "Don't make a big deal about the robe, Harry; you'll only hurt Professor Lupin's feelings. It's a Christmas present, so he has to wear it to be polite. Remember those red and gold robes Tonks gave him for Christmas last year? He still wears them every now and then, even though Snape complains that they're hideous. Besides, I think that Lupin's probably happy that the Slytherins gave him a gift, when just a few years ago they were sneering and looking down their noses at him."

"I guess," Harry said dubiously. But he still thought it was a bit disloyal to wear, not just a green and silver robe--plenty of people were wearing green tonight, after all, himself included--but one with a Slytherin crest. Although maybe it was not Lupin, but the Slytherins he should be upset with, for giving him the robe in the first place. It was like they were staking a claim on him or something, saying that he belonged to Slytherin now, and not Gryffindor.

Ginny seemed to guess at what he was thinking. She gave him a hard look and said sternly, "Don't make a big deal out of nothing, Harry."

"I didn't say anything!" Harry protested, a bit guiltily.

Ron and Daphne arrived, and Dylan and Hermione joined them once the Headmaster asked everyone to take their seats. Daphne greeted them shyly, and smiled when Hermione complimented her on her robe (pale green embroidered with white flowers).

"Thank you," Daphne said in her soft voice. "That's a very pretty necklace you're wearing; I like the flower design. Was it a Christmas present?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Dylan gave it to me." At first glance, it appeared to be an abstract design of silver filigree, but upon closer examination turned out to be an intricate design of vines and roses. She smiled warmly at her boyfriend. "Thank you, Dylan. I really love it; it's so beautiful."

"You're welcome," he replied quietly. "I'm glad that you like it. It belonged to my mother."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, her eyes widening as her hand flew up to touch the silver necklace around her throat. "I...I didn't realize. Is it really all right for me to...?"

Dylan smiled at her, looking serious but not unhappy. "Yes, I don't think she'd mind. My father had it made specially for her, so it was meant to be given and worn with love."

"Oh, Dylan," Hermione whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "I promise that I'll always treasure it!"

"I will treasure your gift, too," he assured her, reaching up to touch the "love" and "friendship" charms he was wearing around his neck.

Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry, half-jokingly and half-enviously, "God, Rosier is so smooth!"

Daphne overheard and giggled. "He's like a character out of one of Pansy's romance novels!" she agreed.

Ron grinned, looking happy to hear a girl speaking of Dylan Rosier with something less than complete and utter adoration. They looked at their menus, then placed their orders and watched their plates magically fill with food. "So what's up with Lupin's new robe?" Ron asked casually, digging into his plate of roast turkey, gravy, and mashed potatoes. "Did Snape give it to him?"

"It's from all of us in Slytherin," Dylan said cheerfully.

"It was Pansy's idea," Daphne added softly.

"Yes, she thought it would be nice to show him that all of us Slytherins accept him as one of us now," Dylan explained. "Some of them, like Draco, gave him a hard time when he first started teaching here, and they feel kind of bad about it now. So it's to show him that things have changed, and we're happy to have him living in the dungeon with Snape, and that we're grateful for the way he's looked out for us. He's always believed in us, when everyone else said we'd all turn out to be Death Eaters."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Dylan!" Hermione said approvingly. "I'll bet it means a lot to the Professor." Ginny gave Harry an "I told you so" look and nodded in agreement.

Ron didn't look at all perturbed by the matter, but he was still euphoric about being invited to the Ball by Daphne. "I saw Sloper and Kirke giving him dirty looks," Ron said between bites of food. "Guess they don't think a Gryffindor should be wearing Slytherin colors."

"Oh dear," Daphne said, looking distressed. "We didn't think about that. Do you think it will cause trouble for the Professor?"

"I guess we should have realized," Dylan said, frowning. Actually, there had been a certain feeling of smug satisfaction in claiming Lupin as an honorary Slytherin, in knowing that he was "theirs" and not Gryffindor's, or at least, not solely Gryffindor's. But they hadn't intended to get Lupin caught up in the middle of a House feud.

"Oh, don't worry about Sloper and Kirke," Ron said, gesturing dismissively in the air with his fork. "They're a couple of boneheads. If they cause trouble, we'll knock some sense into them, right Harry?"

"Er...right," Harry agreed. Daphne smiled admiringly at Ron, who sat up a little straighter and seemed to stick his chest out a bit. It reminded Harry of the way that male pigeons courted the female pigeons, and suddenly he was choking back laughter, and Lupin's Slytherin robe no longer seemed like such a big deal, after all.

"Well, maybe you can get him a Gryffindor robe for his birthday," Dylan suggested practically, then paused and frowned again. "When is his birthday, anyway?"

"Uh, I don't know," Harry said, feeling a little embarrassed by his ignorance when Lupin had been such a good friend to him. "I can ask Sirius."

"And I'll ask Professor Snape," Dylan said. "I wouldn't want to miss it, after everything he's done for me and Theo."

"I think it's silly," Ginny declared. "I mean, I think it would be nice to get him something for his birthday, but it's silly to get him a Gryffindor robe just because the Slytherins got him a robe with their House crest. I mean, what if the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs get offended? He'll end up having to wear a different House robe every day of the week!"

Put that way, it did seem silly, and they all burst out laughing. "It could happen," Dylan said with a grin. "He is the most popular teacher in the school! Everyone likes him, not just the Slytherins and Gryffindors."

"Yeah, you don't see anyone trying to give Snape a Gryffindor robe," Ron pointed out, and they all laughed even harder.

"Oh my God," Dylan gasped, laughing so hard that tears were running out of his eyes, "can you just picture that?" 

Harry could, and the mental image made him laugh until his stomach hurt. It was almost as funny as the Snape-boggart dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes, although it was difficult to top the stuffed-vulture hat. After that, the conversation flowed smoothly over dinner. Daphne didn't say much, but she seemed a little less skittish and a little more relaxed than she usually did, and she smiled and laughed softly at all Ron's jokes, which Ron seemed to find very gratifying. 

_Well, I guess there's someone for everyone,_ Harry thought to himself. After all, even stuck-up, priggish Percy had managed to fall in love and get married.

*** 

From the head table, Lupin was relieved to see Harry and Ron laughing and getting along with Dylan and Daphne. He resolved to have a private chat with Harry later, but hopefully the Slytherin robe wasn't going to be a big issue. He turned his attention back to his dinner and his companions. Math and Goewin had brought Ariana with them, and Goewin was trying to feed the baby, but little Ariana seemed much more interested in all the bright lights and strange people around her than in the spoonfuls of baby food, which mostly ended up on her and not in her.

"Oh, dear," Goewin said. "She's usually such a well-behaved child."

"She's just excited to be in a new place, I'm sure," Dumbledore said genially. "Why don't I hold her for a little while you get something to eat? I'm sure she'll be hungry later." He took the baby and bounced her gently on his knee, and she stared at his long, white beard in fascination, then grabbed at it with both hands and tugged hard. "Oh my!" Dumbledore laughed, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "She's a very healthy baby, with a good, strong grip!"

"Ari!" Goewin scolded while Math chuckled. Satoshi came over and distracted Ariana by turning into his tanuki form and wiggling his whiskers at her. She laughed delightedly and outstretched her arms, and the tanuki picked her up. She giggled and stroked his furry face, then laughed and pointed when she caught a glimpse of his striped tail. She was passed down the table from person to person, as nearly everyone, especially the women, wanted to coo and fuss over her. 

"Such an adorable baby," Emilie said, and smiled nostalgically at her husband. "Remember when Isabelle was this small?"

"It seems like yesterday," Thierry agreed.

Two of the people at the table, however, were not overawed by the baby, and looked less than thrilled to be there. Lukas didn't like formal gatherings to begin with, and Dumbledore had seated Narcissa next to him, which Lupin feared was a mistake. Narcissa had changed a great deal, to be sure, but her pureblood prejudices could not be erased overnight. The odd thing was that they made a very beautiful and striking pair, both of them blonde-haired and clad in green velvet, looking elegant and aristocratic. But for most of the Slytherin elite, no amount of money or beauty could make up for the lack of blood purity.

"So you are the werewolf teacher Draco has been telling me so much about," Narcissa said disdainfully. "You are not what I expected."

"Funny," Lukas said with an ironic smile as he lifted a glass of wine to his lips, "you are exactly what I expected, Lady Malfoy." His tone of voice made it sound like an insult.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Narcissa asked coldly.

"A typical pureblood snob," Lukas told her bluntly. "Arrogant, petty, and narrow-minded. You look down upon others because in your mind, it makes you feel bigger to make someone else feel small." As Narcissa turned red with rage, he added, still with that ironic smile, "Even though, as a disgraced former Death Eater, you have no right to be looking down on anyone else. But I suppose you can comfort yourself with the fact that at least you're not a werewolf."

"Lukas!" Lupin snapped. "That's enough!"

"We had might as well be at one of my mother's parties," Snape sighed, looking glumly at his glass of wine. "I would like to spend one evening talking about something other than status and blood purity if it's all the same to you two, Bleddri, Narcissa."

"I will behave myself if the werewolf does," Narcissa said, glaring at the werewolf in question.

"And Bleddri," Snape continued, "you might consider this something of a test, a trial run, if you will. If you intend to win back the title, at some point you are going to have to associate with the pureblood elite without openly insulting them. You're going to have to prove to the court that you are able to conduct yourself as a proper Lord should." Bleddri looked sulky, and Snape added in an insinuating voice, "Note that I said 'without _openly_ insulting them'--my mother knows a thousand subtle ways to insult someone while being completely polite and proper on the surface. You should talk to Lady Selima, Bleddri. Subtlety is key when dealing with the purebloods, and no one does 'subtle' better than my mother."

"Great," Lukas groaned, slumping back in his seat. "I have to take lessons in etiquette from Lady Selima!"

"I feel for you, Bleddri," Snape said with a heartless grin.

"Should you really be helping him with this, Severus?" Narcissa asked, frowning disapprovingly.

"You've never been close to the Diggorys," Snape pointed out. "What do you care who inherits the title?"

"That's not the point," Narcissa argued. "It sets a bad precedent, appointing a werewolf head of a pureblood family."

Snape's black eyes gleamed dangerously and his voice took on a sharp edge. "Don't forget that it was a werewolf who helped save your son's life!"

Narcissa flushed and ducked her head, looking a little ashamed of herself. "Of course I didn't mean Remus," she mumbled.

"Lukas aided us in the battle, also, Narcissa," Lupin reminded her gently. "While he did not save Draco directly, he and his pack killed or disabled several of the Death Eaters and giants, who would otherwise have been free to hurt or kill the Order members--and the students." Narcissa bowed her head, and she and Bleddri ate in stony silence. Lupin sighed and tried to ignore them, participating in more cheerful conversations with other occupants of the table, and took a turn playing with little Ariana.

After dinner, the dancing began. Draco came over and dutifully danced with his mother for one song, then escorted her back to the head table before leading Serafina onto the dance floor. "Oh my goodness!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Is that really Serafina Avery?"

"Yes," Lupin replied cheerfully. "She looks very lovely tonight, doesn't she?"

"She looks beautiful!" Narcissa said, still in shock. "But she was always such a plain little thing..."

"I never thought she was plain," Lupin said. "She has beautiful eyes and a beautiful smile. The problem is that she never used to smile. Theo is a handsome boy, too, but no one ever noticed because he was always sullen and scowling. Beauty comes from within as well from without, Narcissa. Sera and Theo had learned it was safest not to attract attention to themselves, so they projected a sort of 'don't look at me' air, almost like a glamor or obscuring spell, if you will, although there was no real magic involved. But now that they no longer feel threatened..." Lupin smiled.

"Perhaps," Narcissa said, still staring at her son and Serafina in bemusement. "Although I think the new dress and hairstyle might have a little to do with it as well."

Lukas shook his head impatiently. "There are plenty of girls in the school who are prettier than Miss Avery, new hairstyle or no. None of them has ever made Mr. Malfoy smile that way before." Draco was smiling at Serafina shyly as they danced, a far cry from his usual air of superiority. He seemed a little bedazzled, and not at all aware of any of the other couples around them. Narcissa pursed her lips, looking unsure as to whether or not she should be pleased by this turn of events. "At least she's a pureblood," Lukas couldn't resist pointing out, and Narcissa glared at him.

Dumbledore was rising from his seat, having asked McGonagall to dance with him. "Why don't you take Narcissa out for a spin on the dance floor, my boy?" he suggested to Lukas.

Lukas and Narcissa both gave him identically incredulous looks. "You've got to be kidding," Lukas said.

"No, I'm not," the Headmaster replied, although there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Narcissa doesn't have an escort, and I know that you'll just sit here brooding all night unless I order you to have some fun." He patted Lukas on the shoulder. "You must learn how to relax and enjoy yourself, Lukas."

Lukas growled irritably. "I do know how to have fun," he grumbled. "It's just that your idea of 'fun' seems to differ radically from mine."

"A dance or two won't kill you, Master Bleddri," McGonagall said, looking amused. "All the other teachers are dancing." That wasn't quite true, because Snape and Lupin were still sitting at the table, but most of the other staff members were out on the dance floor. Branwen and Sirius were dancing together, of course, and Satoshi was dancing with a laughing Madam Pomfrey (he had changed back to his human form but retained his whiskers and tail). Even Filch was dancing with Madam Pince, although he looked awkward and ill at ease.

"Go on and dance," Dumbledore told Lukas and Narcissa. He added with a cheerful smile, "That's an order." 

Lukas stood and bowed to Narcissa with icy formality. She rose and curtsied to him with equal coldness, then laid her hand on his proffered arm, just barely touching her fingertips to the surface of his velvet sleeve, as if she wanted as little physical contact with him as possible. They walked out onto the dance floor, and Dumbledore chuckled, not looking at all concerned by their less than enthusiastic reaction.

"Well, shall we, Minerva?"

"I hope you know what you're doing, Albus," McGonagall murmured as she took Dumbledore's hand.

That left Lupin and Snape alone at the head table, save for Math and Goewin, who were feeding Ariana, who was now finally ready to eat her supper. "Would you like to dance, Severus?" Lupin asked.

Snape scowled at him. "You've got to be kidding," he said, in much the same tone Lukas had.

"But all the other teachers are dancing," Lupin pointed out with a mischievous smile.

"I don't wish to make a spectacle of myself tonight," Snape informed him, the look on his face implying that Lupin had offered an affront to his dignity.

"Oh, what's the big deal, Severus?" Lupin asked. "Everyone knows we're a couple! And nearly everyone here saw me kiss you at the head table last term!"

"Don't remind me!" Snape groaned.

"Oh, pretty please, Severus?" Lupin wheedled in the whiny voice of a child begging for a toy or a sweet. "Pretty please with a cherry on top? Please, please, please--"

"Enough!" Snape snapped as Math and Goewin began to laugh. The Potions Master sighed in exasperation, as he realized that refusing to give in to Lupin could prove just as embarrassing as the opposite would. "One dance," he growled, "and that's it!"

"Three," Lupin bargained.

"One," Snape repeated firmly.

"Two," Lupin counter-offered, "and I promise not to kiss you in front of everyone at the Ball."

"Oh, very well," Snape said huffily, giving in with ill grace, then glared at his lover suspiciously. "Have you been taking lessons from Uncle Ali?"

"No," Lupin said sweetly. "It's a natural gift." He held out his hand, and Snape sighed and took it. They received a few shocked stares as they began to dance, but most of the students were used to seeing Lupin and Snape as a couple by now, and just grinned or giggled. Emilie Laroque, though, who had been away from England for many years, and who had never known Snape very well to begin with, stared at the couple, a dumbfounded look on her face, while her husband raised his eyebrows.

"Things are certainly different here at Hogwarts than they are at Beauxbatons," Thierry said mildly.

"Things must have changed since I was last here," Emilie said weakly.

Lupin smiled up at Snape lovingly, and he whispered, "Thank you, Severus." The Potions Master's grumpy expression softened for a moment, and he gave Lupin a small smile in return before turning to glare at a giggling Slytherin girl.

"You owe me for this, Lupin," Snape growled.

"I promise I'll make it up to you tonight," Lupin whispered into Snape's ear in a sultry voice, and smiled in satisfaction as he felt a shiver run through his lover's body.

"You're evil, Lupin," Snape whispered.

"It must be the influence of my Slytherin robe," Lupin laughed.

Nearby them, Narcissa and Lukas were still arguing as they danced. "You have corrupted my Draco, putting these notions of 'physical defense' into his head," Narcissa was saying. "Do you know that he asked me to buy him a sword? Apparently the Dietrich boy got one for Christmas, and now Draco wants a 'real' sword, too!"

"Then perhaps you should be angry at Mr. Dietrich, not me," Lukas replied.

"It's because of your class that he got interested in swordplay in the first place!" Narcissa retorted. 

"Then take your complaints to the Headmaster," Lukas snapped. "He's the one who created the class in the first place; even if I wasn't here, someone else would still be teaching it. Anyway, you should be glad that your son is learning how to defend himself!"

"What does a wizard need with a sword?" Narcissa demanded. "Draco should be learning defensive and combative magic, instead of wasting his time on your silly classes! You are corrupting him--"

"It was your husband who tried to corrupt Draco and the other students!" Lukas interrupted, and Narcissa's face went pale, and then red. She abruptly jerked away from him and stormed off the dance floor.

"You went too far, Lukas," Lupin said disapprovingly.

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Lupin," Lukas snarled, although he looked just a little guilty. "She's a typical pureblood, refusing to listen to what she doesn't want to hear."

"Her whole life was turned upside-down," Lupin said. "She's not a bad person, but it takes time to overcome a lifetime's worth of prejudice. And Lucius may have been an evil bastard, but he was still her husband. You should apologize to her."

Lukas snorted derisively, but turned to follow Narcissa, calling, "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!" Narcissa ignored him, and ran out of the room.

Snape sighed, "So much for subtlety. My mother has her work cut out for her."

Lupin smiled. "Lady Selima is up to the task, I'm sure. Do you think we ought to check up on the two of them and make sure no blood is shed?"

"If Bleddri hasn't killed my mother for meddling in his life, he isn't going to hurt Narcissa,"Snape said, unconcerned. 

Draco and Serafina were still so wrapped up in each other that they didn't seem to have noticed the disturbance. Crabbe, who was dancing next to them with Luna, reached over and tapped Draco on the shoulder. "Huh?" Draco said, looking up with a start.

"Didn't you see?" Crabbe asked. "Your mum had a fight with Master Bleddri and stormed out of the room."

Draco shrugged. "She doesn't like the idea of me taking Physical Defense lessons, even though they're required, and she had a fit when I asked her if I could buy a sword. I'm sure she'll cool off after a little while. I'll talk to her later." Then he resumed dancing with Serafina.

Since Draco didn't seem worried, Crabbe turned back to Luna with a smile. Snape blinked his eyes in disbelief. "Lupin, is that girl dressed like a Christmas tree?" Luna was wearing a pointed green hat on her head that was topped off with a twinkling gold star, and she was wearing a green dress that flared out at the hem, giving her body a conical shape. The dress was trimmed with rows of tinsel and shiny red and green ornaments.

"Yes, Severus," Lupin replied calmly.

"Oh, good," Snape sighed. "I was afraid someone had drugged the wine. I know I didn't drink enough to start hallucinating."

Lupin laughed, then moved closer, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Snape's arms closed around him, and Lupin sighed contentedly. He was here, in his lover's arms, and everyone could see his claim upon his mate; the wolf could not be happier.

"Time's up, Remus," Snape said softly when the second song ended. 

Lupin sighed, reluctant to end the moment, but a bargain was a bargain. "Thank you for indulging me, Severus," he said.

"You promised to pay me back tonight, remember?" Snape reminded him with a wicked grin, and although Lupin had been looking forward to the Ball for weeks, he suddenly wished the night was over.

"I always keep my promises, Sev," Lupin said in a husky voice.

"Yes, you are disgustingly honorable, like all Gryffindors," Snape agreed good-naturedly. "I've indulged you, so now it's my turn to have some fun." He reached for his wand and grinned again. "Let's go for a stroll in the garden," he said, offering his arm to Lupin.

Snape didn't often initiate public displays of affection, so Lupin was delighted, although he felt a bit sorry for the students who were making out in the rose bushes. Still, you'd think they would have learned by now to take their amorous activities somewhere else. "As you wish, Severus," he said, slipping his arm through Snape's, and they casually strolled arm-in-arm across the room and out into the garden.

*** 

From the head table, Goewin smiled at the pair as they left the room. "An odd couple, but they certainly seem to suit each other. Remus seems to smooth out Severus's rough edges."

"And Severus seems to give Remus strength and confidence," Math said thoughtfully. "Back when we were all members of the Order during the first war, he struck me as being a little too self-effacing for his own good. Oh, he was brave, there was no doubt about that--he willingly risked his life, the same as all of us. But he didn't care to draw attention to himself or argue with the other members when he disagreed with them, although sometimes he would confide his misgivings to Albus in private. I assumed at the time that he thought no one would heed his opinions because he came from a poor and unimportant family. I didn't know about his lycanthropy until it became public knowledge a few years ago."

"I did not know Remus very well back in school," Goewin said, "but I remember how he always tagged along with James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. And I remember that sometimes he looked uncomfortable, even ashamed of the pranks that they played, but he never spoke out against his friends. He has gained courage, and Severus has gained compassion." Goewin smiled. "Or maybe it is that Severus has learned not to hide his compassion. I must admit that I never much liked him when we were younger; he always seemed sullen and unpleasant. But it's clear that he loves Dylan very much, and Dylan thinks the world of him." 

She looked out at the dance floor, and saw her nephew dancing with Hermione, looking like the lovestruck teenagers that they were, and that was as it should be. Children should have the chance to be children, and be concerned with nothing but grades and Quidditch and dancing and dates--not war and death and Dark Magic. She was glad that Dylan finally had the chance to live a normal life, although she knew that he would never really be a "normal" teenager, after everything he had been through. Still, at least for the moment, he looked happy and carefree, and it filled her heart with joy to see him laugh and smile so easily.

Ariana gurgled, and Goewin smiled at the baby in her arms. "Yes, doesn't your cousin Dylan look so handsome?" she crooned. "And there are his friends, Theodore and Blaise..." The two Slytherin boys sat at their table, Theodore looking bored, and Blaise a little wistful. Goewin wondered why they didn't have dates, but perhaps it had something to do with Slytherin politics, which she had never really understood. "And there are Draco and Serafina, and Vincent and..." She did not know the girl's name, but Ariana laughed and waved her arms, seeming quite tickled by the girl's outfit. "Yes, that is remarkable, isn't it? She looks just like a Christmas tree! And there is Gregory and little Allegra..."

Goewin smiled at the sight of Goyle, his face set in an expression of intense concentration, as if he was trying very hard not to step on his partner's feet. Allegra, on the other hand, seemed blithely unconcerned, and appeared to be having a wonderful time. They looked very odd together; the top of Allegra's head didn't even reach the middle of Goyle's chest, but Goyle seemed to be treating her with an air of brotherly concern and affection. Dylan had told Goewin the story of how and why Goyle had asked Allegra to the Ball, and she thought it was a sweet thing for him to do. 

Suddenly, an image appeared in her mind, of the same couple dancing, but they appeared to be about ten years older, and while Goyle was still dressed in a formal black robe, Allegra was wearing a white wedding gown instead of a red party dress. Goewin shook her head and the image vanished, leaving the real Goyle and Allegra dancing in front of her as they had been before. She wondered if it was a true vision, or merely her overactive imagination. She had lost her powers of Divination when Gilbert had raped her years ago, but she had temporarily regained them while carrying her Seer daughter in her womb. 

She stared into Ariana's silver-gray eyes and wondered if she was still seeing her daughter's visions, which should be impossible, since they were no longer physically connected, or if the pregnancy had reawakened some small portion of her lost magical Gift.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" Math asked.

"Not really," Goewin said, and explained what had happened. 

"Well, I suppose we won't know for sure until about ten years from now," Math said with a smile. "If Mr. Goyle and Miss Zabini do eventually marry, then we'll know that it was a true vision."

"Or just a lucky guess!" Goewin laughed. "I was thinking how sweet they looked together; perhaps my imagination was merely taking things a logical step forward."

"If your powers truly have returned," Math said, patting her hand, "there will be other visions, other signs."

"I do not really miss my Gift," Goewin said slowly. "I was angry to have lost it, because it could, perhaps, have helped to end the war sooner. But I do not miss seeing visions of blood and death."

"Every Gift always comes with a price," Math said solemnly.

"And a responsibility," Goewin said. "I do not wish to become a Seer again, but if my Gift returns, I will not shirk my duty. At least this vision--if it truly was a vision--was a happy one."

Math smiled, squeezing her hand. "Do you see wedding bells in the future for our nephew, my dear?" he asked lightly.

Goewin laughed. "I don't need the Sight to predict that Dylan will marry Hermione in a few years, my love!" She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Don't you agree, my little Seer?" Ariana cooed happily and seemed to nod in agreement.

*** 

Meanwhile, Stewart walked over to the refreshments table. He was glad that Snape had left, because it would be much harder to carry out their plan under the Potions Master's watchful eye. He had a little vial stowed away in the sleeve of his robe, and under the guise of ladling out two cups of punch for himself and Isabelle, managed to open the vial and spill the contents into the bowl. Then he casually walked away, handing Isabelle an untainted cup of punch.

Across the room, Susan Bones frowned at them. All the members of the R.A. had been warned about Isabelle's plot, since they couldn't take the chance that one of the members might drink the punch and unintentionally spill the truth about the purpose behind their "history" club. 

"I don't know," Susan had said hesitantly. "It seems kind of sneaky, like something the Slytherins would do..."

But Isabelle had used all her powers of persuasion, pointing out that no one would be hurt by the potion, and that it would finally enable them to discover the truth. "If they're really Death Eaters, we'll hear it from their own mouths," she had said enthusiastically. "That's the beauty of it--we don't have to do anything but slip the potion into the punch; they'll incriminate themselves!"

"And you're sure this potion won't make anyone sick?" Susan had asked, still uncertain, but clearly leaning towards going along with the plan.

"Absolutely," Isabelle had promised. "You can look it up in your Potions text: no harmful side effects."

Susan had resisted a little longer, but the lure of learning the truth was too much for her, and she'd reluctantly given in, but she still felt a little guilty about it. She tried to pacify her conscience by telling herself that if there were Death Eater sympathizers among the Slytherins, they deserved to be exposed, and if they were innocent, maybe that would come to light as well, and they could stop worrying.

"Don't worry, Susan," Dean whispered, looking guilty but excited at the same time; the secret mission appealed to his Gryffindor sense of adventure. "We're finally going to learn the truth!"

"Are we?" Susan worried. "The potion will loosen their inhibitions, but we can't question them directly without drawing suspicion on ourselves."

"From the way Draco used to act, I don't think they'll be able to resist bragging about it if they really are Death Eaters," Dean said confidently.

As Susan fretted, several of the students drifted over to the refreshments table to get some punch--Harry, Ginny, Ron, Daphne, Draco, Serafina, Damien, and Parvati among them. The boys poured out cups for their dates, and then for themselves.

Theodore and Blaise came over to say hello to their friends. "You seem to be having a good time," Blaise said with a smile as he got himself a glass of punch. 

"I usually don't like parties and dancing," Serafina said, toying with her glass but not drinking from it. Her cheeks were a little pink, but it didn't seem to be from exertion. "But...this isn't so bad."

"Aw, come on, Avery," Draco said with a grin as he drained half of his glass in one gulp. "You're having a good time, admit it!"

Serafina smiled a little. "Well, my mother was very happy that I decided to go to the Ball. She wants a picture of me in my new robe--which shouldn't be too difficult to obtain." A flash of light went off across the room; Colin Creevey was taking photos, although his date, who looked a little annoyed, seemed to be trying to persuade him to stop and dance with her.

"Do you want some punch, Theo?" Blaise asked.

"Nah, I'm not thirsty," Theodore replied. "Where's your mum tonight, Sera? I'd have thought that Dumbledore would invite her to the Ball." He left unspoken the fact that the Headmaster had invited Narcissa so that she wouldn't have to spend Christmas alone.

"She's working tonight," Serafina explained. "Lots of people like to go to The Three Broomsticks to celebrate on Christmas, apparently. But she doesn't mind. She says Madam Rosmerta is very nice to her, so she's happy to help out."

"Yeah, Rosmerta really stood up for her when Ackerley gave her a hard time," Theodore agreed.

"I guess she knew Mother back when she was going to Hogwarts," Serafina said. "My mother and the other Slytherins used to stop by The Three Broomsticks on Hogsmeade days, same as we do now. She says Madam Rosmerta was nice to her back then, too. I think she felt a little sorry for my mother, because my father used to pick on her even when they were still students. They were betrothed by their families when they were still children, so my dad felt he had the right to push her around."

"Madam Rosmerta doesn't look old enough to have been running the inn when our parents were kids," Ron said, looking surprised.

"Some people age well," Parvati said. "I mean, Dumbledore doesn't look like he's a hundred and fifty, does he? And Snape's mother looks awfully young to have a son his age. Besides, there are always Illusion or anti-aging spells, or even just good use of cosmetics."

"I'm sure you'll always be beautiful, Parvati," Damien said, nuzzling her neck; Parvati giggled.

"Get a room, will you?" Theodore scolded good-naturedly. The pair ignored him, and Potter, Weasley, and Draco were also staring at their dates with calf-eyed looks. Theodore was bored, and he wanted to be alone with Blaise, so he said, "Why don't we leave early?"

"But the Ball's just got started," Blaise protested.

"So?" Theodore said, mindful of the other students around them. "It's not like we have dates, so what's the point of hanging around the punch bowl all night?"

"I want to dance," Blaise said.

"Like I said, we don't have dates," Theodore said, frowning.

"I want to dance with you," Blaise clarified.

"Ha ha, very funny, Blaise," Theodore said, nervously glancing at the Gryffindor boys, but they seemed to be preoccupied with their dates, and didn't appear to have noticed Blaise's comment. "Quit joking around."

"I'm not joking!" Blaise insisted. "I want to dance with you!"

"I said, cut it out!" Theodore snapped. "It's not funny."

"What's the big deal?" Blaise demanded. "Snape and Lupin were dancing together earlier."

Blaise sounded serious, and Theodore stared at him suspiciously. "Did someone spike the punch or something?" He snatched Blaise's half-filled cup away from him and sniffed at it, but didn't smell any alcohol. He looked at the other couples and decided that the punch must have been spiked with _something_ , because they were all acting very strangely. Well, not Damien and Parvati; they were simply kissing and giggling and flirting, which wasn't really that out of character for them, but Weasley had his arm around Daphne--shy, timid, mousy Greengrass, who was not looking at all shy or embarrassed, but was instead giggling and leaning into his embrace.

"You smell really nice, Daphne," Ron said, his face pressed against her hair. "Like flowers."

"My parents do run a flower shop, after all," Daphne giggled. "My mother makes perfume from flower petals."

"I think you're really pretty," Ron said, a besotted grin on his face. "And you're really nice, for a Slytherin. You're not at all stuck-up."

Daphne giggled again. "Well, you're pretty nice for a Gryffindor, yourself!"

Meanwhile, Harry was blurting out, "You look really pretty tonight, Ginny!"

"So do you, Harry," Ginny said, then laughed and corrected herself, "I mean, you look handsome, not pretty."

"Handsome?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Me? But my hair is always sticking up!"

"I like the way it sticks up," Ginny said. "It makes me want to do this." And she reached up to smooth down his hair.

Harry grinned, suddenly feeling confident and euphoric; he couldn't imagine why he had been so scared to tell Ginny how he felt. "I really like you, Ginny!" he declared loudly.

She beamed at him. "I really like you, too, Harry! I had a crush on you as a little girl, and then I gave up because I knew you only saw me as a kid, but now I really like you, not because you're famous or a hero, but because...because...well, because you stopped fighting with the Slytherins, and you've accepted Lupin's relationship with Snape, and you were nice to Allegra on the train, and you stood up for Portia when those boys were teasing her, and you defended Mrs. Avery in The Three Broomsticks and..." The words had rolled out in one continuous sentence, and she finally had to stop and catch her breath. Then she reached up, grabbed his face, pulled it down, and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Damien broke off flirting with Parvati long enough to laugh and applaud. "Way to go, Potter!"

"Something's not right!" Theodore said, grabbing Damien's arm. "Don't you see, everyone's acting strangely? We've got to get one of the teachers to check the punch--it's been spiked or drugged or something!"

"You're overreacting, Theo," Damien said. "I drank the punch and I feel fine." He and Parvati grinned at each other. "Better than fine. Just because Ginny planted one on Potter doesn't mean that the punch is spiked. Everyone knows those two have the hots for each other."

"I didn't know that," Theodore said, raising his eyebrows, then quickly shook his head. "Never mind that now! I'm telling you, there's something in the punch, or maybe it was the food--no, then we'd all be affected."

"Come on, Theo," Blaise laughed, tugging on his arm. "Let's go dance!"

Damien and Parvati stared at him in shock. "Uh, okay, maybe you're right about the punch, after all," Damien said. "Draco, what do you--oh!" His jaw dropped as he turned to ask Draco what he thought, and saw that the other boy has his arms wrapped around a bewildered Serafina.

"I never noticed before, Avery--I mean, Sera--is it okay if I call you Sera, like Theodore does?" Draco babbled. "Anyway, I never noticed before how beautiful your eyes are."

"Draco, are you feeling all right?" Serafina asked, squirming nervously in his embrace. "You're not drunk, are you?"

"Drunk on your beauty," he said.

Serafina looked angry and tried to push him away. "Don't make fun of me!"

"But I mean it!" Draco protested earnestly. "I think you're beautiful! And I really, really like you! Not the way I liked Pansy--I never really liked her, I mean, I thought she was okay, but I only went out with her because our parents wanted us to get together, but I wasn't in love with her or anything. Not like I am with you!"

"Wh-what?" Serafina gasped.

"I love you," Draco said, sounding a little surprised, as if he had just realized it himself. "I do. Not just because you look so pretty tonight, but because of the way you comforted me after my father died, and the way you listen to me talk about him all the time. Because you're my friend, and you like _me_ \--just me, Draco, not the heir to the Malfoy estate." Serafina just stood there, staring at him wide-eyed, stunned into speechlessness.

Theodore was still trying to talk to Damien about the spiked punch, but was distracted by the way Blaise kept tugging on his arm. "Come on, Theo, just one dance!" he begged.

Theodore noticed Aric staring at them curiously from across the room, and jerked his arm free. "No!" he said. "My grandmother would have a fit, and so would your parents! It was your idea to keep us a secret until after graduation, remember?"

"Are Theodore and Blaise a couple?" Parvati whispered to Damien.

"Didn't you wonder why neither of them had dates to the Ball?" he whispered back.

She shook her head in consternation, then hit him on the arm. "I'm your girlfriend!" she said indignantly. "How come you never told me?"

"I was sworn to secrecy, my dear," Damien replied dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "A blood oath between brothers."

"They're not your brothers," Parvati pointed.

"No, but they're my best friends, along with Dylan," Damien explained. "We're like brothers to each other."

"That's very sweet," Parvati sighed. "You're loyal to each other, like Gryffindors."

Damien frowned, wondering if he should be offended. Then he grinned and said, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Pierce is no bloody help at all," Theodore grumbled under his breath as he watched Damien flirt with his girlfriend. He turned back to Blaise and said soothingly, "I think there's some kind of drug in the punch. We've got to get you to the hospital wing and have Madam Pomfrey check you out."

"I want to dance with you," Blaise insisted, looking uncharacteristically stubborn and mulish. He grabbed Theodore's hands and started to drag him onto the dance floor. When Theodore tried to pull away, Blaise snapped, "What's the matter, Theo? Are you ashamed of me?"  
 

*** 

Meanwhile, Snape and Lupin had no clue about what was going on in the Great Hall. Snape was having a grand time blasting apart rose bushes and deducting points. "Twenty points from Ravenclaw, Patil, Boot!" Padma and Terry ran back to the Great Hall, brushing leaves from their robes. He blasted another bush. "Twenty more points from Ravenclaw, Corner and...Chang?" Snape stared in surprise at Cho Chang, who had gradated last June. She smiled sheepishly at him. "Aren't you a little old to be frolicking in the rose bushes now that you're an adult, Miss Chang?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows.

Cho's face turned crimson. Lupin chuckled softly and said pleasantly, "It's nice to see that you and Michael are still together, Cho."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Cho mumbled, still blushing.

"I don't think you can deduct points from Cho, since she's no longer a student," Lupin said to Snape.

Snape scowled and said grumpily, "Oh, very well! Ten points from Ravenclaw, Corner. Now be off with you!"

The couple didn't wait for a second invitation, and ran back to the Great Hall as fast as they could.

Snape blasted another bush and said, "Ten points from Gryffindor, Carroll, and ten from--" His voice broke off as he realized that the other half of the couple was one of his own Slytherins, Brad Doherty.

"Er, sorry, Professor," Brad said sheepishly, brushing leaves out of his hair.

Lupin poked Snape in the side and said teasingly, "You can't deduct points from Gryffindor and not from Slytherin. That wouldn't be fair."

"Since when was I ever fair, Lupin?" Snape growled. Then he glared at Brad and said, "Though I should deduct points for your stupidity, Doherty. You should know that I always patrol the garden during the Ball."

"We were just going to be out here for a few minutes, but then one thing led to another, and well..." He and Melissa both blushed.

"Oh, just get back inside!" Snape snapped and the couple fled.

Lupin looked around the garden. "That's about it, Severus. I think you've scared away all the amorous students."

"Wait," Snape said, pointing at the far end of the garden, where a rose bush was twitching slightly. He laid his finger across his lips in warning, then stealthily approached the bush, intending to take the students by surprise. Lupin followed along quietly, looking amused. Snape pointed his wand at the bush and blasted it apart, and two voices shrieked, one feminine and one masculine. The masculine voice was much deeper than that of most of the teenage boys at Hogwarts. 

Snape looked down and his mouth fell open in shock: lying among the remains of the rose bush were Narcissa Malfoy and Lukas Bleddri. Narcissa's hair was no longer in its elegant knot, and Bleddri's was no longer pulled back in a tail; their hair was lying loose across their shoulders in a disheveled manner. Bleddri's torc was askew on his neck, his robe was unfastened, and his shirt was unbuttoned to his waist. The front of Narcissa's gown was unlaced, and one sleeve had been pulled down below her shoulder, exposing much more of her breasts than was seemly for a proper pureblood woman.

"Merlin's Beard!" Snape exclaimed when he was finally able to speak.

"Severus!" Narcissa squealed, throwing her arms across her chest. "Do you mind?!"

"Oh, please," Snape said in a sarcastic voice, rolling his eyes. "We both know what I am. It's not like the sight of you undressed is going to fill me with the urge to ravish you." 

Narcissa's face turned as red as the students' had earlier. "Severus!" she screeched.

"Be nice, Sev," Lupin said with a grin, and he and Snape turned their backs while Narcissa and Lukas fastened up their clothes. 

"Well, this was rather unexpected," Snape said, beginning to feel a little amused.

"Look who's talking!" Lukas snarled. "It's not like you and Lupin are a likely couple."

"We are _not_ a couple!" Narcissa shouted.

"I hope you're decent," Snape said, turning around to face them. They were fully clad again, although their hair was still loose.

"If you're not a couple," Lupin asked reasonably, "then what were you doing in the rose bushes?"

Both Narcissa and Bleddri turned red. "It was a moment of madness," Narcissa said.

"Pure animal lust," Lukas said.

"On your part, definitely," Narcissa sneered.

"You were the one who was embracing an animal, Lady Malfoy," Lukas sneered back. She slapped him in the face, and he just laughed. "You call that a slap?" he taunted. "It doesn't even sting."

"Why, you..." Narcissa fumed.

"But don't worry, Narcissa," Lukas said mockingly. "I won't tell anyone that you were rolling around in the bushes with a wolf. After all, I wouldn't want anyone to know that I was rolling around in the bushes with a snooty, shallow pureblood bitch!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Lupin cried, looking upset. Their sniping reminded him uncomfortably of the way that Severus has always fought with and insulted him when they were students. "Perhaps you're saying such hurtful things to each other to cover up the fact that you're scared."

"Scared?" Lukas scoffed. "Of what?"

"Of your attraction to each other, of course," Lupin replied. He crossed his arms and gave them a stern look. "And don't try to tell me that you're not attracted to each other, not after what I just saw."

Narcissa and Lukas both flushed again. "It was a purely physical attraction, that's all," Lukas insisted.

"A moment of madness," Narcissa repeated. "It won't happen again."

"Most definitely not!" Lukas agreed.

"Right," Snape said skeptically. He'd lived in denial long enough to recognize it in others.

Lukas glared at Snape and turned to leave, but Lupin stopped him. "Er...your hair, Lukas," Lupin said, motioning to the other werewolf's long, loose blond hair. Lukas cursed under his breath and began rooting through the remains of the rose bush for his hair ribbon. Lupin took out his wand and summoned the ribbon to his hand with a cry of, "Accio!" He smiled sweetly and held out the ribbon to Lukas, who snatched it out of his hand without a "thank you" and stomped off in the direction of the Great Hall.

Narcissa knotted her hair up again, looking around for her hairpins, and Lupin helpfully summoned those as well. "Thank you, Remus," she said, blushing, and secured the knot in place with the hairpins. "I...I don't know what came over me. One moment we were fighting, and the next..." Her blush grew deeper. "Maybe it's because I haven't, well, been with anyone since Lucius died. Before that, even...we only saw each other at Death Eater meetings after he broke out of Azkaban and..."

"I don't need to know the details of your sex life, Narcissa," Snape said hastily, not really wanting to hear any more. "You're an adult, and it's none of my business who you sleep with. Though I'd suggest being a little more discreet next time."

"Please don't tell Draco," Narcissa begged. "He says he hates Lucius, but I know that a part of him still loves his father. I know he'd react badly to this, and it's not like it's ever going to happen again..."

"We won't say anything," Snape promised. "As I said, it's none of our business. But you'd better hope that none of the students noticed you heading off into the bushes together."

"You could do worse than Lukas," Lupin said. "He may be a bit rough around the edges, but he's a good man."

"And it's possible that he could soon become Lord of the Diggory estate," Snape pointed out with pureblood practicality. "Of course the Diggorys aren't as wealthy as the Malfoys, but they're old blood, and the estate is still worth a respectable amount."

"And Draco likes him," Lupin added.

"That doesn't mean that he would accept Bleddri as a potential stepfather," Snape said, frowning. "I think Narcissa's right about how he feels about Lucius--"

"I am not going to marry that werewolf!" Narcissa cried, looking horrified. "So quit talking like that! It was nothing more than...than lust, a brief moment of passion! I haven't been with a man in months, and I doubt that the werewolf has women beating down his door--"

"I told you, I don't want to hear about it!" Snape complained.

"All I'm saying is that it was merely a physical reaction, nothing more!" Narcissa continued almost frantically. "It won't happen again!"

"That would be a pity," Lupin murmured.

Snape just said, "Fine, fine," in a placating tone. He couldn't really care less whether Narcissa and Bleddri got together or not, and it probably wouldn't work out anyway, Lupin's romantic notions notwithstanding. Narcissa was too high-maintenance for someone like Bleddri, and she was too much of a pureblood to openly take a werewolf as a lover. Sleeping with a werewolf was a far greater sin than being a Death Eater in the eyes of the pureblood elite. They could understand and perhaps forgive a former Death Eater's desire for power--which was a Slytherin trait, after all--but they would never forgive a pureblood for tainting the blood line, for betraying their blood.

Narcissa started to head back to the Great Hall, but Snape stopped her. "People might start wondering if you walk back in right after Bleddri does, especially when you both look so upset. Wait a few minutes, and use the time to compose yourself, so that it does not seem so obvious. If anyone asks, just say that you quarreled with the werewolf and took a walk in the garden to cool down."

"Yes, that seems wise," Narcissa agreed. "Thank you, Severus."

"Well then, we'll see you back in the castle."

*** 

Snape and Lupin walked back into the Great Hall to find that pandemonium had erupted. There were students kissing, and teachers hurrying over to separate them; it seemed that Snape had not needed to go looking in the rose bushes to find amorous couples! One of the couples was--Potter and Miss Weasley?! And even more astounding, Mr. Weasley and Miss Greengrass! Other students were exclaiming in surprise and pointing, but their attention seemed to be focused not on the kissing couples, but on Theodore and Blaise.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Blaise was shouting at Theodore. 

"Don't be ridiculous!" Theodore hissed, his face turning red. "And stop shouting, people are staring! If Lady Selima hears about--"

"Oh right, we mustn't offend Lady Selima," Blaise said, his face set in an expression of bitterness that neither his friends nor Snape had ever seen before. "Tell me Theo, what are you more ashamed of--the fact that I'm a boy, or the fact that I'm a Zabini? The Zabinis, once a powerful family, now fallen on hard times and little better than paupers, reduced to running a junk shop. Isn't that what everyone says about us? Am I not good enough for you now that you're a Snape?"

"You idiot!" Theodore shouted, then grabbed Blaise, and kissed him hard on the mouth, right in front of everyone in the Hall. "Does that answer your question?" he asked, his face expressionless, then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

A dead silence fell over the crowd, and Blaise stood there, looking stunned. No one moved for what seemed like a very long time, then Aric broke the spell by laughing out loud. He was shocked but delighted by this unexpected revelation; he was sure he could find some way to use it against his cousin. If nothing else, Theo would become an object of ridicule and scorn among the pureblood elite.

"Who would've thought Theo was queer?" Aric laughed. "No wonder he didn't have a date to the Ball!"

His own date gave him a look of contempt. "Oh, shut up, Aric," Yvonne said in a disgusted voice.

Blaise looked up nervously at Snape, expecting to see anger on his face, but his teacher looked as stunned as everyone else. "Pr...Professor," he stammered, "I...I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." He remembered trying to drag Theodore onto the dance floor, remembered not caring what anyone thought, but the memory was blurry and removed, like something from a dream, and Theodore's kiss had acted like a splash of cold water in the face, bringing him back to reality. He felt sick to his stomach when he realized the trouble this would cause when word got back to his family and to Lady Selima--and word was bound to get out--and when he thought of the horrible things he had just said to Theo.

Damien, his normally mischievous face looking pale and grave, came up to Snape and handed him a cup of punch. "Theodore said that Blaise--that all of us were acting weird. He said he thought that there was something in the punch."

Snape flicked his wrist, swirling the punch in the glass, and sniffed at it. "Well, I'll have to perform some tests to be sure, but judging from the reaction of those who imbibed it, I have a pretty good idea of what was in the punch." He looked at Potter, Greengrass, and the Weasley siblings, who were all looking confused and embarrassed now. Draco still had his arms around Serafina, and he suddenly turned red and hastily let go of her. "Did all of you drink the punch?" Snape asked, and they all nodded or muttered in the affirmative except for Serafina.

Dumbledore and McGonagall hurried over to his side. "Severus, has someone drugged the students?" McGonagall asked anxiously. "Are they in any danger?"

"If it's what I think it is, no," Snape replied. 

"And what do you think it is?" McGonagall asked, a bit impatiently.

"A form of Truth Potion," Snape replied. 

"Veritaserum?" Lupin asked in surprise.

Snape shook his head. "No, I don't think any of the students would be able to obtain or make it--well, except possibly Dylan and Miss Granger. But someone under the influence of Veritaserum appears emotionless, and this clearly had the opposite effect. I think this is something much weaker, not so much a Truth Potion per se, but something to loosen one's normal inhibitions. It's sometimes referred to as the Potion of Liberation."

"And this potion has no dangerous side effects?" McGonagall persisted.

"That particular potion does not, but I'll have to test it to make sure it really is a Potion of Liberation," Snape replied. 

Madam Pomfrey had joined them. "Is there an antidote that needs to be administered?" she asked.

"No, the effects seem to be wearing off already," Snape said, then asked the children, "Do any of you feel sick? Any dizziness, pain, or nausea?" Looking very subdued, they all shook their heads. "Then I think it's safe to send them back to their dorms--except for you, Mr. Zabini." He glared at Aric, who was still chortling to himself. "And you, Mr. Dietrich!"

"Me?" Aric asked, startled, then realized that Snape was staring at him suspiciously. "Why do I always get the blame for everything?"

Theodore's friends were regarding him with equal suspicion. "You did this, didn't you?" Blaise accused. "To get back at Theo because you thought he was behind the Porvora prank!"

"Hey, don't blame me, lover boy!" Aric protested. "I had no idea that you and Theo were such a hot item!"

"I do not want to hear another word out of your mouth until I give you leave to speak, Mr. Dietrich," Snape said, and his voice was so cold and dangerous that Aric immediately fell silent. "In my office," he said, and turned to leave.

"What if it's not a Potion of Liberation?" Madam Pomfrey asked, looking worried.

"Then I will discover what it is, and prepare any necessary antidotes," Snape replied calmly.

"Since they don't seem to be feeling ill," Dumbledore said, "I don't think that the students need to go to the hospital wing just yet. But perhaps they should return to their dorms, where we can easily find and treat them, if necessary."

"And question them," Snape growled.

"The Ball is over," Dumbledore said, raising his voice, and the students groaned in disappointment. "All students, please line up in an orderly fashion so that your Heads of House may escort you back to your dorms." They obeyed, although some of them were grumbling under their breath. 

"If you want to blame someone for your curtailed evening," Snape snarled, "you can blame the person who thought it would be amusing to put Truth Potion in the punch." The students began looking around at each other, trying to determine who had done it. "And you may be sure that the prankster will punished most severely," Snape added, looking mightily wroth, and the students shuddered.

"I wouldn't want to be in that person's shoes when Snape catches him," Seamus muttered, and Dean tried not to look guilty.

"I will see the Slytherins back to the dungeon," Branwen volunteered, and Snape's anger eased just a little.

"Thank you, Branwen," he said, then ordered in a curt voice, "Mr. Zabini, Mr. Dietrich, come with me--oh, and Dietrich, make yourself useful and carry that bowl of punch." Aric was still cowed enough to obey without objection.

"Professor?" Dylan asked hesitantly. "Can I come with you? This affects Theo, and Theo is my brother now..."

"Very well, Mr. Rosier," Snape agreed, and stalked out of the Hall, the three boys following meekly in his wake.

Before going after them, Lupin stopped to ask Lukas, "By any chance, did you and Narcissa drink the punch tonight?"

"I only wish I could use that as an excuse," Lukas said gloomily.

Lupin smiled and patted him on the shoulder, but was too worried to take as much amusement in his friend's predicament as he normally would have. He quickly left the Hall and hurried after Snape and the boys.

*** 

In his office, Snape carefully measured droplets of various chemicals into the bowl of punch, as well as Damien's cup; both changed from red to a bright shade of orange. The three boys sat in front of his desk, watching anxiously. "Yes, definitely a Potion of Liberation," he said.

"So you said this was a weaker form of Truth Potion?" Lupin asked.

"It doesn't actually compel someone to tell the truth the way Veritaserum does," Snape explained, calming down a little as he automatically slipped into his lecturing mode. "It merely loosens one's inhibitions, as I said, and makes the person who imbibed it feel talkative, usually resulting in them saying things that they would not otherwise voice aloud, due to the normal social restrictions most people abide by."

"Leading to a spate of students confessing their love for each other," Lupin said with a smile, and Blaise groaned and buried his head in his hands. Dylan patted him comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Yes, although I'm not sure that was the effect the prankster had in mind," Snape said. "Someone once slipped some of this potion into the punch when I was attending a party at the Parkinsons' house with my parents. You should see how nasty the purebloods can get when their veneer of politeness is stripped away. I recall Mrs. Bletchley calling Priscilla Parkinson a cold-hearted, stuck-up little bitch--which she is, but no one ever says so in those exact words. It's considered gauche, you see. Fortunately, I don't much like punch, and neither did my parents."

"And you had nothing to do with that prank?" Lupin asked.

"Of course not," Snape replied, "although I suspect that Evan did." Then he remembered the boys' presence, and cleared his throat gruffly. The boys were still too intimidated to take much amusement in his little digression although Dylan smiled a little. "In any case, we should get back to the matter at hand. I wonder what you would tell me if I forced you to drink some of this punch, Mr. Dietrich?"

Aric looked alarmed. "I didn't do it!" 

"Oh, really?" Snape said, not sounding convinced.

"I didn't!" Aric insisted. "Sure, I got a laugh out of it, but I didn't know that Theo was gay!"

"Perhaps that piece of information was an unexpected bonus for you," Snape said coolly.

Aric glared at him defiantly. "If you made me drink that, you'd find out that I'm not the one who spiked the punch. You would find out that I hate Theo, but you already knew that. And I've got no reason to want to give Truth Potion to Theo; I already found out the truth about Uncle Rafe in the hospital wing after the Porvora attack."

Snape frowned. As a former Death Eater and spy, not to mention his talent for Legilimency, he had become quite skilled at detecting deception, and Aric's words had the ring of truth to them. Of course, Snape was not infallible at detecting lies, but he didn't think that Aric was that skilled a prevaricator. Besides, what the boy said made sense; he'd already had the opportunity to question his cousin under Truth Potion once. Now that Aric had confirmed what he had been so obsessed about--Theodore's role in their uncle's death--there was really no need for him to do it again.

"I believe him, Severus," Lupin said softly.

Snape scowled; he was dying for a chance to send the brat back to Durmstrang, but it didn't seem that he was going to get his wish this time. On top of that, he was soon going to have to deal with his irate mother when gossip of this night reached her ears. "Get out of here, Dietrich," he growled. 

Aric smirked, but quickly fled the room when Snape gave him a menacing glare. "Now, as for you, Mr. Zabini..."

"You can punish me, but please don't be mad at Theo, Professor," Blaise begged. "It's not his fault."

"It's not your fault, either," Lupin said gently. "We're not angry at you." He elbowed Snape in the side. "Isn't that right, Severus?"

"I'm not angry at you or Theodore, Mr. Zabini," Snape sighed. "But this does complicate things. My mother and your parents will be quite upset when they learn of this, and I can no longer overlook your...ah...situation."

"Overlook?" Blaise asked, startled. "You mean...you knew? About us?"

"Well, I didn't know, but I suspected." Snape gestured at Lupin. "Or rather, I should say that the werewolf did."

Blaise smiled hesitantly at Lupin. "Theo thought you might have guessed, but we weren't sure..."

"Surely you didn't think that we'd be angry about it, Blaise?" Lupin asked kindly. "Considering that Severus and I are in a relationship ourselves."

Blaise looked ashamed of himself. "I...wasn't sure," he said in a low voice, staring down at his lap, where he was nervously clasping his hands together. "I mean, Theodore is the Snape heir now; that is why the Professor adopted him, after all. And he'll be expected to have an heir of his own someday..."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Zabini!" Snape said irritably. "I don't give a damn if the Snape line dies out or not! That's not why I adopted Theodore. I only did it because..." His voice trailed off and his face turned red, as Lupin smiled at him tenderly. "Because...er...well...Theodore needed a family," he finished awkwardly. "That's all."

"But Lady Selima--" 

"Lady Selima will be angry, yes, but she is not the head of the Snape family," Snape said firmly. "I am. I will not allow her to disown Theodore."

"Oh," Blaise sighed, his shoulders sagging with both relief and guilt. "Theodore told me that you wouldn't force him into an arranged marriage, but I guess...I guess I was still worried about it. I should have trusted him." He glanced up at Lupin, looking very distressed. "I said some awful things to him. The expression on his face..." 

Blaise shuddered. Theodore had been a little angry--well, not so much angry as annoyed, really--but that did not bother Blaise so much as the way Theo's face had just shut down and gone blank and cold right after he had kissed Blaise. It was the same look he used to wear when he talked about his father, or when Blaise tried to press him for information about the Death Eaters.

"Theo will understand that it wasn't your fault," Dylan said, trying to comfort him. "We'll explain that the punch was spiked; it sounds like he already suspected it."

"That's not the point!" Blaise said, still distraught. "The potion makes you say what you really feel--now he knows that I don't trust him! I accused him of caring more about the Snape title than he does about me!"

"Theodore loves you," Lupin said gently, slipping an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Or he wouldn't have kissed you in front of half the school." Blaise groaned again at that reminder, and Lupin smiled. "I think he'll forgive you. But it sounds like you two have a few things you need to discuss with each other."

"You know I'll have to separate you two now that this is out in the open," Snape told Blaise gravely. "I can't allow two students in a relationship to share a room."

"I understand, Professor," Blaise whispered, hanging his head.

"But surely not tonight, Severus," Lupin pleaded on the boys' behalf.

Snape paused to think it over, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it is too late to change the dorm assignments tonight," he agreed. "But pack up your things and be ready to move tomorrow morning. You too, Dylan. You'll be moving in with Theodore, and Blaise will move into your old room with Damien."

"Yes, sir," both boys said.

"Very well, you may go now," Snape said. "And I want to see you and Theodore in my quarters first thing in the morning. We need to discuss how to deal with my mother and your parents." He glanced at Lupin to include him in that statement. "It would probably be best if they heard about this from us and not in the Daily Prophet."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said meekly, then looked up at him timidly. "You...you really don't mind, about Theo and me?"

Snape snorted. "That would be a bit hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? Never mind; don't answer that. I know that most Slytherins have no problem with a little hypocrisy, but no, I don't mind, Mr. Zabini. Although I wish you had revealed your relationship in a less dramatic manner."

Blaise blushed, and Lupin scolded, "It wasn't his fault, Severus."

"I know, I know," Snape said, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Go on then, Mr. Zabini."

Dylan and Blaise rose from their seats and headed for the door, then Blaise paused and turned around before they left. "We were going to tell you the truth, eventually. We knew we couldn't hide this from our families forever. But I told Theo to wait until after graduation, so that my parents couldn't try to separate us." He smiled sadly. "Only I ended up doing it for them."

"I'm glad that you planned to confide in us, Blaise," Lupin told him. "We'll try to make your parents understand. They love you very much, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually."

"I was hoping to break it to them gently," Blaise said glumly.

Snape snorted. "There's no way to break such news 'gently,' Zabini. But you're not the first boy to scandalize your family, and I doubt you'll be the last. We'll deal with your parents. Go on, you might as well enjoy your last night of freedom."

To Blaise's surprise, Snape was smiling at him, the corners of his mouth lifting just the slightest bit. "Thank you, sir," he said, and headed to the dorm to see Theo.

After the boys left, Lupin sighed and said, "I hope everything works out between them. It's a little sad, that Blaise has been carrying that insecurity around with him for so long. If I had known, I would have reassured him, but I had no clue. Everything seemed fine between them."

"All Slytherins keep secrets, Lupin," Snape told him solemnly. "Even, sometimes, from their lovers. As for Blaise, in some ways, he is very un-Slytherin-like, and yet in others, he is Slytherin to the core."

"What do you mean, Sev?"

"Slytherin is the House of those who desire power, and Blaise has no ambition. And yet, like a typical Slytherin, he is acutely aware of his place in the social hierarchy, which unfortunately for him, is very close to the bottom. It is possible to advance oneself, but he doesn't possess enough ruthlessness to claw his way up to a higher position, so he simply accepts his lot in life. Someone like Weasley or Granger might attempt to carve a place for themselves outside of pureblood roles and expectations, but Blaise is too much of a Slytherin to think that way. That is why he takes it for granted that love will not outweigh the need to make a proper marriage and carry on the bloodline." Snape smiled bitterly. "He knows his place, as they say."

Lupin shook his head. "Slytherin politics are too complicated for me, Sev." Then he smiled at Snape. "At least you're providing an example to your students that they don't have to follow the path that is expected of them."

Snape snorted. "That's what most of the parents call 'setting a bad example,' Lupin."

Lupin chuckled. "Well, now that the excitement's over, perhaps we should go back to our rooms, too."

"Yes," Snape sighed, "we should get some rest if we're to deal with Lady Selima and the Zabinis in the morning."

Lupin leered at him playfully. "I wasn't planning on getting any rest, at least not right away. I promised to pay you back for the dances, remember?"

"I'm not really in the mood now, Lupin," Snape said, still worrying about his mother.

"Severus," Lupin said patiently, "you'll still have to deal with your mother tomorrow whether we have sex or not. Wouldn't it be better to pass the time pleasantly than brood about it all night?" He nuzzled Snape's neck, then gently nibbled on his earlobe.

Snape sighed again, in a very different manner. "You do have a point, Lupin," he conceded in a husky voice. "Let's return to our quarters." Lupin nipped at his earlobe again, a little less gently, and Snape said, "Or we could just lock the door and stay here..."

*** 

Dylan sighed as he headed back to the dorm with Blaise. He had finally figured out a way to spend some time alone with Hermione, but his plans had been ruined when the Ball was cut short. He had been very clever about it, too; Hermione wasn't the type of girl to make out in the rose bushes, and besides, only an idiot would make out there when Snape was bound to come along and start blasting bushes apart sooner or later.

No, he had managed to persuade Dobby to give him the location of the Room of Requirement, telling him that he needed to prepare a special "Christmas surprise" for Hermione. And since Dobby worshipped Harry Potter, and by extension, Harry Potter's friends, the house-elf hadn't needed much convincing. It was perfect; somewhere private where no one was likely to find them, and he could create a beautiful, romantic setting just by wishing for it. He'd been planning on a cozy little room--nothing too fancy or ornate, which would likely only make Hermione feel nervous or intimidated--lit by numerous candles, and rose petals strewn across the floor and bed. He sighed again.

"Sorry to ruin your night, too," Blaise told him ruefully.

_If you only knew!_ Dylan thought, but told his friend, "Don't worry, it's not your fault." 

He supposed he could always try again, but it wasn't often that they had an opportunity to sneak out of their dorms without anyone noticing, and he'd figured that it would be easy to slip away early tonight while everyone was preoccupied with the Ball and the dancing and flirting--students and teachers both. And the longer he waited, the more likely it would be that Dobby might let slip the fact that he'd told Dylan about the Room of Requirement, and that the teachers would find a way to secure it again. He definitely did not want anyone bursting in on them during an intimate moment! He felt a little irked that he might never get a chance to put his perfect plan into effect. Hermione didn't even know about it, since he hadn't been lying to Dobby about it being a "surprise". 

He brightened a little when he recalled that he now owned a mansion, since the Professor and Ms. De Lacy had won back the Rosier estate and title for him. Maybe during the summer, he could find an excuse to "inspect" his new property--with Hermione, of course. Of course, he'd still have to figure out a way for them to go there alone without anyone interfering, but it should be easier, since Hermione would no longer be a student, but an adult in a formal apprenticeship, and they'd be able to get their Apparition licenses, which would enable them to reach the mansion in the blink of an eye, and return home or to work just as quickly. Of course, the thought of waiting till summer was rather frustrating, but Dylan took a very Slytherin pleasure in inventing convoluted plots. And who knew, maybe another opportunity to use the Room of Requirement would arise after all...

*** 

Theodore lay on his bed, brooding. He was angry, not with Blaise, but with himself. He'd been shocked when Blaise accused him of being ashamed of their relationship, and he realized that he'd somehow hurt Blaise without meaning to. He had thought they were happy together, but somewhere deep down, Blaise did not really trust him--which perhaps was justified, because he had not really trusted Blaise. He had always held a piece of himself back, even when they became lovers.

He had told himself it was because there were secrets he had to keep, things that were too dangerous for Blaise to know, but that was only partly true. He had guarded himself for so long, from his parents, from his classmates, from the Death Eaters, that he didn't really know how to stop. He had confided in Blaise after the war ended, trying to be open with his best friend and lover, but he had still kept a few secrets back. His fear that Blaise would choose his family over him, for example, which ironically, was apparently the same fear Blaise had about him.

The door opened, and Blaise walked in, looking pale and shaken. "Theo, I'm sorry--" he started to say.

Theodore sat up and said, "No, I'm the one who should apologize."

"What for?" Blaise asked, looking confused. "I'm the one who made a spectacle of us in front of everyone at the Ball. You were right about the punch, you know. Snape said that someone spiked it with a potion."

"But you meant what you said," Theodore said softly. "Even if it was just a small part of you."

Blaise flushed, looking ashamed. "Yes," he whispered. "Snape said it was a variation of Truth Potion, something that loosens inhibitions. He called it a Potion of Liberation. Only I don't feel liberated. I feel stupid. I'm so, so sorry, Theodore. I know you love me, I really do. I just--"

Theodore reached out and took his hand, and Blaise sat on the bed beside him. "You were scared," Theodore said solemnly, "that I might choose my family over you."

Blaise laid his head on Theodore's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "It's just that...I know what your real parents were like. And I know how much you love Snape and Lupin, how much it means to you that Snape adopted you. I was scared that you would give anything not to lose that."

"I don't want to lose Father or Lupin, but I don't want to lose you, either, you silly git," Theodore said, gently kissing the top of Blaise's head. "So what did Father say?" 

Blaise looked up to meet Theodore's eyes. "He wasn't angry, although he is a little worried about what his mother is going to say. He and Lupin already suspected, but he was pretending not to know so that he didn't have to split us up." Blaise began looking upset again. "I'm sorry, Theo. He says I'm going to have to move out of our room tomorrow."

"I figured," Theodore said, sounding resigned.

"But he let us have tonight together," Blaise said, leaning against Theodore again. "It surprises me sometimes, how nice Snape can be."

Theodore laughed a little. "He says he's been hanging around the werewolf too long."

Blaise managed a smile. "I really am sorry, Theo. You're not mad at me?"

"Will you stop apologizing?" Theodore said. "I don't blame you. This is probably more my fault than yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I was scared of losing you, too," Theodore admitted. "I was scared that your parents would force you to choose between them and me."

"But I told you--"

"That they'd come around, I know, but I didn't really believe it. I mean, I know that you believed it, but...whether they run a junk shop or not, your parents are still purebloods. They'll want you to give them an heir. And they're your family, your blood..." Theodore's voice cracked a little. "How could you ever choose me over them?"

"I love you, Theo," Blaise said, cradling his lover's face between his hands. "I promise I will never, ever let anyone come between us. Not even my parents."

"I know why you don't trust me," Theodore whispered. "It's because I've always been holding part of myself back from you."

"I know," Blaise said with a sad smile. "There were times when it was like a wall would just come up between us, like before last year's Ball, when we were talking about the Death Eaters. And there are still times when I have no idea what's going on inside your head."

"I'm sorry," Theodore said, a pleading look in his eyes. "I don't mean to do it."

"I know," Blaise said, stroking his cheek.

"I'm trying not to. It's just...it's hard."

"I know," Blaise repeated. "I know it was hard for you to tell me all those things about your parents during the summer. It means a lot to me that you did."

"It's not just you," Theodore told him. "I didn't really trust Snape and Lupin, either. Not completely. Not until Snape told me that he wanted me to be his son."

Blaise sighed and wrapped his arms around Theodore. "I think our problem is that we have too much Slytherin in us for our own good. Slytherins are taught to trust no one, and to prize power and ambition and blood purity above all else. My father is a good man, but he can't ever forget how far the Zabini family has fallen. He feels ashamed of running a junk shop, but I certainly wouldn't want to trade places with Draco. We're not rich, but we make enough to get by, and we love each other. I think it would be better if my father could just let go of the past and be happy with what we have." 

Blaise smiled ironically. "Of course, the same goes for me. I was the one who accused you of being ashamed of me for being a Zabini. It's hard to forget your place in society when you live in Slytherin House. But truly, Theodore, I don't care about carrying on my bloodline. I'm a little sorry that I will never have children of my own, and I hope Allegra gets married someday and gives my father an heir, but even if she doesn't, I will never marry. Not even if the Zabini line dies out, not even if my father disowns me. I promise I will never take a wife, nor any lover but you."

"And I don't care about the Snape title or fortune," Theodore said, his voice and his body both trembling. "I don't need a title; as long as I'm the Professor's son, I'm happy. And as long as I'm with you. I love you, Blaise. I don't want anyone but you. I never have."

Blaise kissed him, and what was intended to be a gentle and comforting kiss soon turned quite heated, fueled by a deep sense of need and longing that the potion-fueled argument in the Great Hall had awakened in them: their need to each prove their love for the other, and be reassured of the other's love in turn.

They kissed and groped, fumbling with the fastenings on their robes. "Please, Blaise," Theodore said urgently, "make love to me."

Blaise suddenly stopped and pulled back, looking into Theodore's eyes. There had been a certain emphasis on the "to," as if he were making more than a general request for lovemaking.

Theodore seemed to understand his unspoken question, and nodded. "I want you to make love to me," he whispered. "I...I want you inside me."

"Are you sure?" Blaise asked hesitantly. Theodore always topped when they made love; they had tried it the other way around once, because Blaise was curious to know what it would be like, but Theodore had tensed up, and although he hadn't complained, had clearly been getting no pleasure out of the experience. Blaise had immediately stopped, and had never asked him to do it again. 

Blaise thought he understood the problem. He didn't think that Theodore's father had sexually abused him, but the things he'd done had been bad enough, and that, in combination with the way that Theo had been forced to play the role of lackey to Malfoy, had left him with an aversion to what he saw as a submissive position. Nearly everything in the lives of the Slytherins was a demonstration of power and status, dominance and submission, including, sometimes, sex. Blaise had heard all the old, quietly whispered rumors about how Draco's father had been a playboy when he was a student at Hogwarts, sleeping with both sexes indiscriminately, which wasn't really that unusual in Slytherin House. But Blaise was pretty damn sure that Lucius Malfoy was always the one doing the screwing--both literally and figuratively. 

"Yes," Theodore replied, although he looked a bit nervous.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Theo," Blaise told him tenderly. "Not ever."

"I know," Theodore whispered. "But I need to prove it to myself." He was determined not to hold anything back from Blaise anymore, to give himself up to Blaise completely. He was a little afraid, not so much of the physical act, but of letting down the walls inside him. But he knew that he if he didn't, he would eventually end up pushing Blaise away and hurting him again.

"All right," Blaise said, kissing him gently. "But we can stop anytime you want." A rising surge of desire protested against that statement slightly, but he firmly reigned it in. Theodore nodded, his green eyes looking vulnerable, and somehow both frightened and determined at the same time. Fear meant weakness to a Slytherin, and a Slytherin never showed his weaknesses to anyone. Theodore rarely ever let his guard down this far, and Blaise knew he was doing it deliberately, to show his trust, and Blaise was moved by it.

"I love you, Theo," Blaise said, and kissed him again, long and slow, and felt his lover begin to relax a little. He was determined to make this pleasurable for Theo, and not just something to be endured and gotten over with. No--not just pleasurable, he wanted to make Theo cry out in ecstasy, to make him feel as good as Theo always made Blaise feel when they made love. He took out his wand and cast a silence spell on the room, finished undressing the two of them, and proceeded to make love to Theo.

He took his time about it, caressing Theo in a way that was more soothing than arousing, lightly running his hands along Theo's arms and then down his chest, planting feather-light kisses all over his face and neck. When Theo began to relax and return the caresses, Blaise let his hands and mouth move more purposefully, his fingers lightly brushing against Theo's nipples, teasing them into hardness, his mouth closing over each one in turn as Theo gasped and arched his back, twining his fingers in Blaise's hair.

Blaise trailed kisses down Theo's chest and belly, then gently pushed apart Theo's legs and began stroking his inner thighs. "Just do it already," Theodore said, his voice hoarse and ragged. Despite the curtness of those words, Blaise could hear the desire in his lover's voice, so he reached into the nightstand drawer for the vial of lavender oil they kept there--ostensibly for use in Potions class, although they also found other, more personal uses for it. Theo tensed and trembled a little as Blaise's oil-coated fingers ran gently along the cleft of his buttocks until they brushed against the entrance to his body. Blaise didn't try to enter him right away, instead lightly rubbing and circling the opening, until Theo began to squirm with anticipation rather than apprehension. Only then did he slowly ease one finger inside and ask, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," Theodore said in a breathy voice, his green eyes wide but no longer fearful. "It feels a little weird, but it doesn't hurt."   
"Good," Blaise said, kissing him, and began to move his finger in very slow, steady strokes.

It felt a little uncomfortable at first, more strange and embarrassing than painful. Blaise moved very slowly and gently, obviously taking care not to hurt or alarm him, and Theodore sighed when he felt Blaise's lips brush against the side of his neck. He relaxed a little more, and that rhythmic, in-and-out motion started to feel good, almost soothing. He felt a second finger pushing into him, stretching him open wider, and he gasped and tensed a little. Blaise paused and raised his head to look at him, a question in his eyes. Theodore took a deep breath, then slowly let it out, forcing himself to relax. "It's okay," he whispered. Blaise continued, still moving slowly and gently at first, then gradually beginning to probe a little deeper. His fingers brushed against something inside Theodore that sent a sudden, white-hot burst of pleasure through his body, and he cried out in surprise, his hips snapping up off the bed in an involuntary reaction.

"That's it," Blaise said with a satisfied smile, and raked his fingers over that spot again. Theodore moaned, and instead of lying passively on the bed, began lifting his hips to meet Blaise's thrusting fingers. Each thrust sent another surge of pleasure through him, and Theodore groaned loudly. Merlin, it felt so good! He'd done this to Blaise before, of course, and theoretically knew it was pleasurable, from Blaise's reaction and the books he'd read (found hidden behind a secret panel when he was exploring a dusty corner of the Nott Manor library one day; he often wondered which ancestor had left them there). 

But he'd had no idea what it really felt like; secretly, the idea of allowing someone to do that to him had felt a little distasteful, a little shameful, although he knew that made him a hypocrite since he had no problem with doing the same thing to Blaise. But now he moaned wantonly and shamelessly, rocking his hips back and forth, trying to drive Blaise's fingers in deeper. He was already achingly hard without Blaise even needing to touch him; he almost felt as if he could come from this alone. When he felt a third finger slide into him, he cried out, "Stop, stop!"

Blaise immediately sat up and pulled his hand away, and Theodore moaned softly, feeling suddenly empty and bereft. "What's wrong?" Blaise asked anxiously. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, sorry," Theodore said, smiling sheepishly; he hadn't meant to startle Blaise that way. "It's just..." His face turned red. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come, and I don't want to. Not yet." He lowered his eyes, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to come with you inside me."

"Oh!" Blaise exclaimed, and reached for the vial of oil again, with such haste that he nearly spilled it. Theo was blushing, looking shy and slightly embarrassed, which Blaise found cute and a little amusing, since this was hardly the first time they were making love...except that, in a way, it was. He poured the sweet-smelling oil into his palm and spread it over his erection, not bothering to repress a little gasp of pleasure. Theo's flush deepened, but the shyness seemed to vanish as his eyes dilated and went a little glassy with lust. His tongue darted out and ran across his lips, and Blaise leaned over and whispered in a husky voice, "God, I love it when you do that." Theo did not seem to be aware of what he had just done, because he looked a little puzzled, but before he could ask what "that" was, Blaise sealed his mouth over Theo's, sliding his tongue between Theo's lips. They kissed hungrily, tongues entwining around each other, until they finally had to come up panting for air.

"Ready?" Blaise whispered, and Theo nodded. He gently pushed Theo's legs apart and knelt between them, sliding his hands beneath Theo's body and cupping his buttocks. Theo suddenly moaned and raised his hips, spreading his legs wider, without any further prompting from Blaise. Blaise found himself licking his own lips. 

Theodore moaned again, staring at him with imploring eyes. "Please, Blaise," he whispered.

Blaise had never seen Theo like this before, completely open and vulnerable, with all of his defenses cast aside. It was touching...and incredibly intoxicating. He positioned himself and pushed into Theo, biting his lower lip and forcing himself to move slowly, fighting the urge to simply shove into his lover with one swift, hard thrust, the way his body was clamoring for him to do.

Despite Theodore's desire, it still hurt a little when Blaise entered him, and his body automatically tensed up before he could stop it, fighting against the intrusion. Blaise stopped moving and asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, but just a little," Theodore replied. "It's no big deal." He reminded himself that the hexes his father had cast on him over the years had been far more painful, although nothing Thaddeus had done had ever made him feel as vulnerable as this did, allowing another person, even someone he loved, to enter his body. He wanted this, but it scared him a little--or maybe what scared him was how much he wanted it. "It's nothing compared to a Cruciatus Curse," he said without thinking, trying more to convince himself than Blaise.

"You idiot," Blaise said, the affection in his voice belying his words. "This isn't Physical Defense class or one of Snape's exams. We're not trying to just get through this with the minimum amount of pain. I can't get any pleasure out of this if I'm hurting you. I don't want you to feel just a little pain, or even no pain. I want to make you feel good. As good as I feel when you make love to me." He kissed Theo tenderly, then said, "I love you, Theo," trying to project all of his love through his voice and his face.

It seemed that he succeeded, because Theo gasped, a look of incredulous joy spreading across his face as his eyes filled with tears. He seemed to open himself up to Blaise, body and soul, because Blaise suddenly found himself sliding easily into his lover without any further resistance. He moaned as he felt himself encompassed by the heat of his lover's body.

Theodore moaned as Blaise slid inside him. It was a strange feeling, similar to but not exactly the same as the sensation of Blaise's fingers moving inside him; he felt full and stretched to his limits, hovering on the brink of pain. Yet at the same time, the feeling of being so physically connected to his lover felt incredibly intimate and exciting. Of course, there was also a feeling of connectedness when he penetrated Blaise during their lovemaking; again, similar and yet oh so different at the same time.

Blaise moved, panting heavily, in slow, shallow strokes. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered.

It hurt a little, but it also felt good, so Theodore lied and said, "No." And the lie became truth as that slight burning, stinging sensation gradually melted into a totally different kind of heat, a kind of burning, aching need. Blaise seemed to sense his desire, because he started thrusting deeper, until he hit the same spot his fingers had found earlier. Theodore moaned wildly, shoving his hips upward into Blaise's thrusts, wrapping his legs around Blaise's waist, trying to pull him in deeper. He completely forgot about pride and shame, fear and pain. Nothing mattered to him at all but the intense surge of pleasure that rushed through his body every time Blaise thrust into him. Nothing mattered but the need to satisfy that aching desire inside of him.

Blaise thought that the sensation of Theo's long legs wrapped tightly around his waist was unbelievably erotic, not to mention the way that Theo was moaning and writhing with abandon beneath him. He forgot about being gentle, and completely lost control of himself, thrusting hard and fast into his lover's body. If Theo felt any pain, he didn't show it, pushing up to meet Blaise's thrusts with just as much urgency. "Blaise, Blaise, oh God, please Blaise, please," he moaned frantically, his words tumbling over each other incoherently.

Not that Blaise was much more coherent himself. There was little room left for thought in his mind as he slammed hard into his lover's willing body, over and over again, so he settled for simply whispering, "Love you, Theo, love you so much." As he continued to thrust, he felt Theo's erection rubbing against his stomach; Theo arched his body up, as if he were trying to increase the friction between them. So Blaise reached down to stroke Theo, and suddenly he felt something warm and wet and sticky spilling into his hand and across his belly, and then Blaise was coming too, as Theo's body shuddered beneath and around him.

They collapsed on the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs. "Oh. My. God." Theodore gasped.

"So was it good for you, too, love?" Blaise asked with a grin, nuzzling Theodore's cheek.

"No," Theodore replied, and Blaise looked hurt. "It was better than good," Theodore continued, still sounding a little out of breath. "It was absolutely amazing."

Blaise laughed in relief and wrapped his arms tightly around Theo. "Good. It was amazing for me, too."

"So is that what it feels like for you?" Theodore asked, gently running a finger down Blaise's cheek. "When I make love to you?"

Blaise caught Theo's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the fingertips. "Well, I can't say for sure without using Legilimency," he joked, "but judging by your reaction, I'd say 'yes'."

"So did you like it?" Theodore asked with a sly smile. "Being on top?"

Blaise blushed and pretended to be offended. "You mean you couldn't tell? Merlin, what does it take to convince you?!" Theodore laughed. "Of course I liked it, you silly git," Blaise said, giving him a kiss. "But I also like feeling you inside me."

"We could take turns," Theodore suggested whimsically.

"Or flip a coin," Blaise said, grinning.

"I'm not flipping a coin with you," Theodore said with mock-indignation. "You're a Slytherin, and everyone knows that Slytherins cheat." They both laughed.

"Actually, I don't think it will be a problem," Blaise said ruefully, "since I doubt that we'll have many opportunities to have sex after tonight, at least until we graduate."

Theodore shifted his weight, pushing Blaise onto his back and rolling on top of him. "Then I guess we shouldn't waste any time tonight," he murmured, pressing his lips against Blaise's throat.

*** 

Theodore and Blaise showed up at the Potions Master's quarters in the morning, looking subdued and tired (due to the fact that they had not gotten much sleep, trying to make the most of their last night together). Dylan also chose to accompany them, to support his brother.

Snape thought it would be best if they talked in private before facing the gossip that was sure to buzzing all around the Great Hall during breakfast, so he had the house-elves deliver trays of food to his quarters. He motioned for the boys to help themselves to the food, and everyone filled their plates, grabbed cups of tea, and gathered in the parlor. The boys sat on the couch, Snape took the large, overstuffed chair beside the fireplace, and Lupin perched on the arm of the chair next to Snape.

"You're going to fall off, Lupin," Snape said in a slightly testy voice.

"My sense of balance is very good," Lupin informed him. Then he smiled mischievously and leaned down to whisper into Snape's ear, "Would you prefer that I sit in your lap? That would be much more secure."

"NO!" Snape bellowed, causing Lupin to laugh and the boys to jump. Flushing, Snape turned to the boys and said curtly, "Eat. Believe me, you're going to need your strength before the day is over."

They obeyed, although Blaise and Theodore were too anxious to have much of an appetite. Snape told his son, "You know that I'll have to separate the two of you. I'm moving Dylan into your room, and Blaise in with Damien."

"Yes, Father," Theodore said meekly. "Blaise already told me."

Snape hesitated, then added gruffly, "I'd just like to make it clear that I have to do this because of school regulations, and it has nothing to do with my opinion of your...er...relationship. You're nearly an adult, and you are free to choose your own friends and lovers without asking my permission." Snape scowled at Dylan. "Mr. Rosier certainly hasn't bothered asking for permission to date Miss Granger."

Dylan grinned, and Theodore smiled a little, although he still looked worried. "Yes, Father. Thank you. But what about Grandmother?"

Snape sighed. "We'll need to go home and explain what happened, before she hears the gossip from someone else." He grimaced. "A conversation that I'm not looking forward to. But I will make it clear that she has no say in the matter. I am the Lord of the Snape family--by her own doing--and only the Lord has the power to disown an heir. Which, needless to say, I will not do."

"What about the Zabinis?" Lupin asked.

Snape sighed again. "We'll have to call them in for a conference. It would be best to get that over with today, too." He cursed under his breath as he tried to figure out which irate family members to deal with first. The Zabinis, he finally decided. Marius and Olivia would be furious, of course, but they were nowhere near as intimidating as his mother. "Well, I suppose we should contact your father before he leaves for work, Zabini," he said, but a second later, his plans were altered.

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" a very angry and familiar voice screamed from outside the door. 

"That was fast," Snape muttered, his face filled with both annoyance and dread at the same time. "I didn't think the students would be able get the owls out so soon. They were supposed to have been confined to their dorms all night; someone must have gone to the Owlery at the break of dawn."

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice called from the fireplace. "Your mother is on her way to see you."

"Thanks for the warning, Albus," Snape said sarcastically, then got up to let his mother in.

"You tricked me!" Selima shouted, her black eyes blazing with fury.

"About what, Mother?" Snape asked coolly.

"Don't play dumb with me, Severus!" his mother spat. "Priscilla Parkinson called me this morning, just gloating with the news that your son was kissing another boy at the Ball last night!"

Snape shrugged. "At least my son is dating a pureblood Slytherin, not a Muggle-born, like her granddaughter is."

"Do you think this is funny?!" Selima screamed. 

With long practice, Snape managed to keep up his pose of cool indifference instead of cringing before his mother's wrath. "In what way did I trick you, Mother?"

"You knew, didn't you?" Selima asked accusingly. "That Theodore was...was..."

"Choose your words with care, Mother," Snape said in a soft, deadly voice, his fear of his mother replaced by a fierce protectiveness of his son.

"That he was like you and Lupin," Selima finished, glaring at him.

Getting between two angry Snapes was the last thing that Theodore wanted to do, but he felt obligated, as this was partly his fault. "Please, Grandmother," he said, rising from his seat to step between them, "don't blame Father. He didn't know." This was technically not a lie, since Blaise said that Snape and Lupin had only "suspected" the truth about them.

Selima glared at Theodore, and Snape gently pushed him aside. "I did not lie to you, Mother. You never asked me about Theodore's sexual preferences."

"Don't play semantics with me, Severus!" Selima shouted. "You knew that we wanted an heir for the purpose of carrying on the Snape bloodline!"

"And I gave you an heir," Snape replied. "I made no promises about him marrying and siring an heir of his own." He smiled maliciously as Selima spluttered with anger. "You neglected to follow your own rules, Mother. Didn't you once tell me that a merchant always sets down the precise terms of a contract in writing? I have abided by the letter of our agreement: that I would be reinstated as the Snape heir if I adopted Theodore."

"Grandmother," Theodore tried again, "he really didn't know. I never told him--"

"You need not take the blame, Theodore," Snape said, waving him off. "You never told me, but Lupin suspected, and he shared that information with me." 

Selima was speechless with rage, and Lupin stepped forward and said softly, "I told you once before that Severus was only adopting Theodore to give him a family, not because of the inheritance. Did you not believe me?"

Selima turned on Theodore. "You promised to uphold the honor of the Snape family!"

"Leave him alone!" Snape snarled. "Thanks to your own efforts, I am Lord now, and I decide what is or isn't honorable in this family! And don't even think about suggesting that he be disowned!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Lady Selima," Theodore said quietly. "Father is the one who controls who will be heir, but if you feel I have dishonored you, I will return your gift to you." He slipped the heir's ring off his finger and held it out to Selima. His dark green eyes looked sad and anxious, and his hand trembled slightly as he offered her the ring.

Selima's anger receded slightly, to be replaced by a look of uncertainty as she stared at him, hesitating over whether to take the ring or not. She just stood there, neither accepting nor refusing it, and Snape was startled. His mother was always firm and decisive; he had never seen her dither or vacillate before.

Blaise got up to stand beside his lover. "Please, Lady Selima," he said softly. "Don't be angry at Theodore. It was all my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Theodore objected.

Selima turned her gaze upon Blaise. "And you are the boy who caused all this commotion?" she asked.

"Yes, Lady Selima," he replied.

"It's not his fault!" Theodore insisted.

Selima ignored him, staring intently at Blaise. "What is your name, boy?"

"Blaise Zabini, ma'am," he said politely.

Selima stared at him in silence for a very long time; long enough that Blaise started to squirm nervously under her gaze. The expression on her face, oddly enough, was pensive rather than angry.

"You look much like your grandfather, child," she finally said.

"You know my grandfather?" Blaise asked in surprise.

Something suddenly clicked in Lupin's mind. "Why, Lady Selima, is Blaise's grandfather your old flame?" he blurted out.

"WHAT?!" cried Snape, Blaise, Theodore, and Dylan in unison. As for Lady Selima, she blushed like a schoolgirl.

"Prospero Zabini is your old flame?" Snape asked incredulously. "The mysterious suitor you rejected in favor of my father?"

Selima did not answer, but her face turned even redder, which seemed confirmation enough. She stared at Blaise and Theodore a little longer, then sighed, "Very well."

"Excuse me?" Snape asked in confusion.

"Very well," Selima repeated. "I give up. I have fulfilled my duty; I secured an heir for the next generation. What happens after that is your responsibility, Severus, not mine."

"Y-you...you mean...that I...that Blaise and I..." Theodore stammered.

"You mean that you'll let Theo and Blaise continue their relationship?" Dylan asked eagerly.

Selima gave him a faint smile that was a little bitter, yet somehow not entirely unhappy. "I don't see that I have much choice. It isn't up to me; it's up to Severus."

"Then...should I..." Theodore stared down at the ring he was still holding.

Selima sighed again, then said in a resigned voice, "Keep it. It is the heir's ring, after all, and you are still the heir. Your father has outsmarted me." When Theodore still looked at her anxiously, she relented and gave him something that might have been a smile if it hadn't looked more sad and wistful than happy. "There's a certain irony in this, I suppose--my grandson and Prospero's finding happiness together when we could not." 

She gave him a serious and intent, though not angry, look. "But be sure that this is what you really want. This is not some romantic tale in a book; this is real life. You will be reviled and scorned by many people. You will likely never be able to get a position in the Ministry, nor any other position of influence and power. And when the first flush of young love wears off and you tire of each other, you may find that it is too late to change your mind and find a bride willing to marry you, once you have made such a scandal of yourself."

"I won't change my mind," Theodore said resolutely. "This isn't just some whim. I loved Blaise for years as a friend, even before I fell in love with him. I am aware of the consequences, and I am prepared to face them."

"And you?" Selima asked Blaise. "Are you prepared? Theodore at least has the Snape title and wealth to shield him; you do not. If he abandons you, you will have nothing."

"I would never do that!" Theodore said indignantly.

"And even if he doesn't," Selima continued, "because of his wealth and your lack thereof, people will call you his concubine, his catamite, his kept boy--"

"Mother!" snapped Snape.

"Can you live with this?" Selima finished calmly, ignoring the interruption.

"Yes," Blaise said firmly. "I know people will gossip; they've been gossiping about my family for all my life. I don't care what others think of me, so long as the people I love know the truth."

Selima stared at the two boys for a minute, and seemed satisfied with what she saw, because she gave them a curt, approving nod. Just then, there was a knock--more of a soft tap, really--at the door.  
 "What now?" Snape called out irritably.

"A letter for Professor Snape," Dobby called out timidly. "Marked 'urgent'."

Snape groaned and opened the door, then took the letter from the house-elf. He ripped open the envelope and read the letter inside. "Well, the Zabinis have heard the news, too, and their reaction is just about what you'd expect."

"Very well," Selima said, looking cool and brisk and efficient once more. "We must smooth things over with the Zabini family. I will invite them to dinner at Snape Manor."

"Excuse me?" Snape said.

Selima gave him an impatient look. "Our families will, in a sense, become joined or at least allied through the boys. We must come to some sort of understanding. We certainly can't have the Zabinis running around screaming that you have corrupted their son. This will cause even more gossip, you know, Severus, considering your relationship with the werewolf. They'll say that you condoned, even encouraged this sort of behavior in your son and the other boys in Slytherin."

"That's a lie!" Theodore protested hotly.

"That won't stop people from saying it," Selima said sharply. "You should know by now that the Slytherin elite have only a passing acquaintance with the truth."

"I suppose it doesn't matter," Snape said. "People already think I'm a Dark Wizard and a pervert, although I'd prefer that they didn't think I was child molester trying to corrupt my students."

"This wouldn't have happened if the punch hadn't been spiked," Theodore muttered, although in a way he was glad of it, because it had ended up bringing him and Blaise closer together.

"What's done is done," Selima impatiently. "There's no use in crying over spilt milk. What we have to do now is control the damage. We need to discuss things with the Zabini family, and it would be better to do it in a formal, private setting."

"All right," Snape said, still looking a little stunned. "I'll call Marius--"

"No," Selima said. "You're not much good at diplomacy, Severus; I will handle everything. I'm going back home now to send out the invitations and oversee the preparations for dinner. Do you mind if use the Floo?"

Snape shook his head, too dazed to reply verbally, and Selima threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped through it, and vanished. "What just happened here?" he asked Lupin.

Lupin smiled at him. "Lady Selima just gave her approval to Theodore and Blaise, and is going to arrange a truce with the Zabini family," he said happily.

"Bludgeon them into submission is more like it," Snape muttered.

Lupin grinned. "I don't think that poor Marius has a chance," he agreed. 

"I still can't believe it," Blaise said to Theodore, looking almost as stunned as Snape. "My grandfather and your grandmother? I didn't even know that he knew Lady Selima. Well, they're around the same age, so they must have gone to Hogwarts together, but he's never talked about her. And I wouldn't think that someone like Lady Selima would give my grandfather a second look. Even back then, our fortune was declining, although it wasn't really ruined until Grandfather refused to ally with the Malfoys."

"My mother wasn't always one of the pureblood elite," Snape told him. "Before she married my father, she was just a girl from a wealthy, foreign-born merchant family."

"I still can't believe it," Blaise repeated.

"It must be a shock," Lupin said sympathetically. "I'm sure you never pictured your grandfather being in love with anyone but your grandmother."

Blaise shrugged. "I never really knew her; she died before I was born. I knew it was an arranged marriage, but my grandfather always spoke fondly of her."

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully.

Snape glared at him. "No meddling, Lupin," he said sternly. "We have enough problems to deal with already."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said meekly, but his eyes had a faraway look to them, and he was smiling a little.

*** 

After breakfast, the boys busied themselves moving into their new rooms. Aric smirked when they entered the common room, but Snape came with them, gave the boy a venomous look, and snarled, "I'm in a bad mood today, Dietrich. Not one word out of you, or it's back to Durmstrang--if you're lucky." And for once, Aric listened to his common sense and decided that it would be better not to annoy an irate Death Eater. Besides, the damage was already done; all he had to do was sit back and watch everything unfold.

No one in Slytherin really thought that the fact that Theodore and Blaise were a couple was a big deal; it was more the way the news had been revealed that shocked them, rather than the news itself. "I always suspected he didn't like girls," Millicent muttered, remembering her date to the Ball with Theodore last year. 

Allegra, though, was surprised, and ran down to the dungeon to see her brother. "Is Theo really your boyfriend?" she asked as Blaise opened the door to the Slytherin common room. "Do you love him? Do you guys kiss and stuff?"

Blaise sighed and said in a resigned voice, "Yes, yes, and yes. Come in, Allegra." She seemed more curious than shocked or offended, and peppered them with questions until Dylan finally took pity on Blaise and Theo, and distracted her by offering to take her down to the kitchen to cadge some treats from the house-elves.

"Really?" she asked eagerly. "How do you get to the kitchen? I've never seen it. I've never seen any of the house-elves, either."

"It's a secret," Dylan whispered conspiratorially. "Come on, I'll show you."

"'Bye, Blaise, 'bye, Theo," Allegra said cheerfully. "We'll bring you back something nice."

Meanwhile, Snape got several more letters from the parents of his students, expressing concern or outrage about "the atmosphere you are fostering in Slytherin House," as one letter put it. Another demanded to know just what he was teaching the students. Most of them pointed out that his scandalous relationship with the werewolf was setting a bad precedent for the children. And a few of the parents threatened that they would petition the school governors to have him removed.

"Don't worry about it, Severus," the Headmaster told him. "You have my full support. I'll handle this; you handle making things right with Blaise's family."

Snape decided to leave the letters unanswered for now. If he could work things out with the Zabinis, they could try to brush off the incident as a simple prank caused by a drugged cup of punch. Perhaps he could say that it had been spiked with a hallucinogen rather than Truth Potion. He should have thought of that last night, but he had been caught off-guard. He sighed; he wasn't really worried about his reputation, which was already ruined by his relationship with Lupin, but he wished he could do more to protect the boys. Still, they seemed determined, and aware of the problems they would face. They probably would have gone public after graduation, anyway--a surprising streak of romanticism for a couple of Slytherins from families of old blood. It was probably Lupin's fault; maybe he and the werewolf were a bad example, after all.

*** 

Allegra insisted on coming to the dinner with them. "Lady Selima invited the Zabini family, and I'm a Zabini," she said stubbornly.

"It's not likely to be very pleasant," Blaise warned her. "I'm sure there will be a lot of yelling and arguing, and besides, I don't think Mother and Father will want you to come."

"Grandpa says I can come," Allegra said, holding up a piece of parchment. "He owled this letter to me." 

Blaise read the letter, which did indeed say that Allegra should come with them to Snape Manor. He didn't know what his grandfather was thinking--things were likely to get ugly, after all. Then again, maybe he hoped that their parents would be more circumspect if Allegra was there. "Well, Grandfather is the head of the Zabini family," Blaise said with a shrug, giving the letter back to his sister. "I just hope he knows what he's doing."

"I can't wait to meet Professor Snape's mother," Allegra said happily. "I saw her at the Quidditch match; she's very pretty. And she's helping to fix things with Mummy and Daddy, so she must be nice."

Blaise and Theodore stared at her incredulously. "Uh...right," Theodore said. He had come to care for his adopted grandmother, but "nice" was not exactly the word he would use to describe her. Then again, she had not only accepted his relationship with Blaise, but also volunteered to negotiate a truce with the Zabinis. Who knew, maybe Allegra was right after all.

Blaise and Allegra accompanied Snape and his family to Snape Manor, where Selima greeted them politely. She was dressed in an elegant black velvet robe, and was wearing Theodore's silver-and-amber combs in her hair, as well as Dylan's matching brooch--a good sign, Lupin thought, as nearly everything Lady Selima did was very deliberate and calculated. Then he wondered if she was deliberately wearing black to emphasize her status as a widow, and wondered if Prospero Zabini would show up with Blaise's parents tonight. He was very eager to meet the man who had managed to capture Selima's heart so many years ago.

Marius and Olivia Zabini arrived a few minutes later, accompanied by a handsome older man who did indeed look much like Blaise. However, while Blaise had a quiet and serious demeanor, this man had a much more dramatic flair, even in appearance: his hair was mostly black, with two wide streaks of white sweeping back from his temples, and his black robes, while a little faded and out of fashion, were elaborately embroidered with gilt thread. He swept a low bow, then took Selima's hand and kissed her fingertips. "You are as beautiful as ever, Selima," he said.

"I see you still have your silver tongue, Prospero," Selima replied tartly.

"And I see yours is still as sharp as ever," Prospero said, but he was smiling and there was no real sting to his words.

Marius stepped forward impatiently. "I trusted you, Snape," he said accusingly, "and you betrayed me!"

"Father, please--" Blaise said.

"You stay out of this," Marius snapped. "I'll deal with you later." Turning back to Snape, he said, "I believed all that tripe you fed me about being concerned about Blaise's welfare and not wanting to break up the boys' friendship!"

"He was not lying, Mr. Zabini," Lupin said quietly.

Marius snorted in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that he--and you, for that matter--knew nothing about this? You should be ashamed of yourselves, helping two teenage boys to carry on an affair!"

"Father, that's not what happened!" Blaise protested.

Meanwhile, Olivia noticed Allegra's wide-eyed stare and said, "Marius! Not in front of Allegra!"

Marius frowned, as if only now noticing his daughter. "Allegra, this is a matter for adults; you should return to the school."

"Grandpa said I could come!" Allegra said, and looked to Prospero for support.

"It is a matter for the Zabini family," Prospero corrected his son, "and Allegra is a member of this family. She too is affected by this; I'm sure that her housemates are already gossiping about last night's events and asking her questions."

"What we have to discuss tonight is not for a child's ears!"

"Nevertheless," Prospero said, quietly but firmly, "I am still head of the Zabini family, last time I checked, and I grant her approval to stay."

"Perhaps," Selima suggested as Marius fumed, "we could continue this conversation in more comfort--and hopefully, more civility--in the dining room."

"An excellent suggestion," Prospero said cheerfully. "But wait just one moment." He took out his wand and conjured up a bouquet of red roses. "It would be ill-mannered to show up for dinner without a gift for the hostess."

After a moment of hesitation, Selima said, "Thank you, Prospero," and took the flowers. She led them to the dining room, and everyone took their seats as Vorcher found a vase for the flowers and then served dinner.

Marius was not interested in his food. "As Head of House, how can you let such things go on in Slytherin, Snape? Either you have no clue what the student are doing right under your nose, or you are actively encouraging them to pursue a degenerate lifestyle!"

"Father!" Blaise cried angrily.

"Mummy, what does 'degenerate' mean?" Allegra whispered to her mother, who just sighed wearily.

Snape leaned forward, his black eyes gleaming dangerously, looking very much like the Death Eater he had once been. "Watch what you say about my son, Zabini," he said in a low, menacing voice.

Lupin looked a bit annoyed with both of them. "Our first concern should be the boys' welfare, and screaming insults at each other is hardly accomplishing anything useful."

"I'm not the one who's screaming," Snape said sulkily.

"You know what I mean, Severus."

Meanwhile, Prospero was telling Marius, "Indeed, my son, I am disappointed by your behavior. Let us discuss this rationally, like adults." Then he smiled mischievously. "Besides, you should be more courteous to Severus. Under different circumstances, you might have been brothers."

Selima's face went red and she shouted, "Prospero!" Lupin smiled, Snape looked incredulous, and Blaise's parents and sister looked confused."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Marius asked.

"Oh, use your brain, son!" Prospero said impatiently.

"Prospero!" Selima repeated in a tone of protest.

Prospero smiled nostalgically, with a hint of sorrow and bitterness. "Selima was my first love back at Hogwarts." Selima's face turned even redder and she looked mortified.

"Y-y-you?" Marius stammered. "And L-Lady Snape?"

"Selima Bashir back then," Prospero corrected him calmly. "She very nearly became Lady Zabini."

"I might have," Selima said bitterly, "if you had been able to hold down your job in the Ministry and avoid offending Lucien Malfoy."

"What are you talking about?" Allegra cried. "You almost married Professor Snape's mother?!"

Marius was too stunned to be angry any longer. "I think I would also like an explanation, Father," he said weakly.

"Selima and I fell in love at Hogwarts," Prospero explained. He glanced at Selima, waiting to see if she was going to protest, but she merely leaned back in her chair and said nothing, looking resigned. "However, while I came from a family of old and noble lineage, our fortune had declined in recent years; my father and grandfather were not very good businessmen, I'm afraid. Selima's family, on the other hand, was wealthy and ambitious, and wanted their daughter to make a marriage that would advance their standing in society. So we devised a plan, with a little help from our friend, Cynric Diggory. Cynric's family had some influence at the Ministry, so he pulled a few strings, called in a few favors, and managed to get me a position there after graduation. It was merely a low-level job as an intern, but the plan was that I would work my way up to a position high enough that Selima's father would see me as a worthy potential bridegroom." He sighed. "But I failed."

"You did not just fail," Selima said bitterly. "You threw away your chance at success because you were too proud to curry favor with Lucien."

"In my second year at the Ministry, I was working as an assistant to Lucien Malfoy," Prospero continued. "He was much like his son Lucius--cold and arrogant, taking pleasure in wielding his power over other people. He expected everyone beneath him in rank to kiss his--" He paused and glanced at Allegra. "--er, boots. I lost my temper one day, and told Malfoy what I really thought of him, and that ended my brief career at the Ministry." Prospero smiled ironically. "The truth has never been a highly valued commodity at the Ministry." 

Prospero turned to Selima and said in a quiet, serious voice, "I am sorry, Selima. You are right; I let my pride get the best of me, and betrayed your trust and destroyed our chance for a future together. But answer me this, Selima. If I had pretended to be like all those other arrogant, ruthless, scheming purebloods, in time the lie might have become reality. I might truly have become what I was pretending to be. If I had been a Lucien Malfoy, a Severin Snape, would you still have loved me? I think not. There were other boys at school with more wealth and ambition than I, on the fast track to a Ministry career, but none of them caught your eye or won your heart. If I had stayed at the Ministry, I would not be the same person that you loved."

Selima stared at him with a startled look on her face, as if such a thought had never occurred to her before. Then she looked away, unable to meet his eyes, saying nothing. Snape thought that was a pretty good indication that Prospero was probably right and Selima didn't want to admit it. All Snapes had an aversion to admitting they were wrong about something.

"If you were in love with Lady Selima," Allegra asked, looking distressed, "does that mean you didn't love Grandma?"

"There are different kinds of love, child," Prospero said gently. "The kind of love your grandmother and I shared was one of friendship and comfort."

"I don't understand," Allegra said.

"My parents had been wanting for some time to arrange a marriage with a daughter of some friends of theirs, a family much like ours, with old blood but only modest wealth. When Selima's parents decided to betroth her to Severin Snape, I told them to go ahead and arrange the marriage. If I couldn't marry Selima, it didn't really matter to me whom I married, and it was my duty--" He gave Selima a pointed look. "--to sire an heir to carry on the Zabini name. However, first I spoke privately with Sophia, your grandmother. I did not think it fair to marry her without being honest about the fact that my heart belonged to another."

"I'd always heard he was eccentric," Snape muttered under his breath. And a Slytherin who tried to be honest and fair was eccentric indeed.

"She was surprisingly understanding," Prospero continued. "You see, Sophia also suffered from unrequited love. Ever since she was a little girl, she had admired Lucien Malfoy from afar, but it was an impossible love, as Lucien was several years older than her, far above her station, and already married to someone else. Merlin only knows what she saw in him besides his pretty face, but love isn't always logical or practical. So since neither of us could marry the ones we truly loved, we comforted each other in our heartbreak. It was a marriage of convenience, but gradually over time, we became friends and learned to care for each other. How could I not love your grandmother, Allegra? Without her, you and Blaise and your father would not exist."

Silence fell over the table, then Marius cleared his throat and said impatiently, "This is all very touching, Father, but we are supposed to be discussing Blaise."

"There is nothing to discuss, Father," Blaise said firmly. "I love Theo. Don't blame the Professor for that. He didn't do anything wrong; he didn't know about us. He certainly never encouraged us to get together. We fell in love, that's all. I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, Father, but I won't give Theo up. You can disown me if you want."

"Blaise," Marius said in a placating tone, "it's natural for some boys to want to...ah...experiment...in school, but you can't throw away your future over this--"

"This isn't an experimentation, Father!" Blaise said in frustration. "I love Theo! This isn't a little schoolboy fling!"

"What about your duty as the Zabini heir?" Marius cried. 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Father!" Blaise retorted. "What is there for me to inherit, anyway? The junk shop?"

"It's not a junk shop!" Allegra said indignantly.

"I'm sorry, Father," Blaise said gently when he saw the anger on his sister's face, and the look of shame on his father's. "I'm not ashamed of the shop. It's fed and clothed us, and I'm grateful for that. But you're ashamed of it; you don't even want me to run it when I graduate. You want me to go on to better things, but I'm never going to be Ministry of Magic material. And I don't need a title to be a researcher or curator. Allegra can have the title, and her children can carry on the Zabini name."

"But she's a girl," Olivia protested. "She may not be able to find a husband willing to take on our name, especially since we can't afford to offer a large dowry..."

"I'm not marrying some guy who only wants me for my money!" Allegra said scornfully. Then she smiled at her brother. "Don't worry, I'll carry on the Zabini name so that you and Theo can be together."

"It's not fair for you to pawn off your duty on your sister," Marius argued.

"So what do you want him to do, Marius?" Prospero asked. "Make a loveless arranged marriage?"

"Your marriage to my mother worked out well enough, according to your own words!" Marius snapped. "Of course it will be difficult to find a potential bride, what with that little display at the Yule Ball." He sighed and said to his son, "If only you could have been a little more discreet."

Lupin tried to explain, "It wasn't his fault. It was because of the potion--"

"Listen to yourself!" Prospero said angrily to his son. "Would it be all right if he kept a male lover on the side as long as he was 'discreet'? Is it all right if Blaise is miserable, and likely for his hypothetical wife to be miserable, too, so long as you get your heir in the 'proper' manner? You should be ashamed of yourself! That is the kind of thing the Malfoys of the world do, and you are no Malfoy, thank Merlin. Although right now you are acting like one--and you are but a pale shadow of the real thing."

Marius flushed, looking defensive. "I'm not saying I want him to be miserable. Of course we'd try to find a girl who would be compatible with him. I'm just saying that he's young, and what he thinks may be the great love of his life might be mere infatuation."

"Father!" Blaise shouted, jumping to his feet, looking angry and frustrated. But Prospero waved his hand, motioning for Blaise to take his seat, which he did reluctantly.

"Marius," Prospero said quietly, "Blaise is a very sensible and serious young man. When have you ever known him to act foolishly or impulsively? When have you ever known him to defy you?"

Marius frowned. "Almost never," he admitted. "Except when he ended up fighting the Death Eaters at Hogwarts, and I would call that a very dramatic and nearly fatal exception. And it was Theodore's fault that he got entangled with that mess as well."

"It seems to me that Blaise did not go seeking out trouble," Prospero argued. "He found himself in the middle of a dangerous situation and did his best to defend himself and his friends. And was it not you who was adamant that he be Sorted into Slytherin, despite the fact that you knew that House would be filled with the children of suspected Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers?"

"All Zabinis are Slytherins," Marius blustered.

"Allegra has proved that all Zabinis are not," Prospero pointed out. "And Blaise strikes me as having more of a Ravenclaw personality. Am I right, Blaise?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Blaise replied, looking a little surprised. "The Hat suggested that I go into Ravenclaw, but I insisted upon Slytherin."

"Because you knew it was important to your father," Prospero said. "Because your father is a little touchy about our lack of wealth, and he felt that being Sorted into Slytherin at least proves that we still have old and pure blood even if we have no money."

"Yes," Blaise said softly, bowing his head. Marius and Olivia suddenly looked guilt-stricken at the thought that their pride might have endangered their son.

"In any case," Prospero said, "I am still the head of the Zabini family, and I do hereby declare that Blaise will not be forced to marry against his will and that he may take whatever lovers he pleases. If Blaise has no children, then the title shall pass to Allegra and her children. There, now that's settled."

"Thank you, Grandfather!" Blaise said, his face filling with joy.

"Th-thank you, L-Lord Zabini," Theodore stammered, looking shocked.

Prospero chuckled. "No need to call me 'Lord,' child. That's an awfully fancy title for someone who is Lord over nothing more than a junk shop--not even that, since I retired and turned it over to Marius. I am Lord of a humble London flat and nothing more."

"It's not a junk shop!" Allegra protested.

"Father, you may be head of the family, but he is my son!" Marius argued. "You have no right to interfere!"

"Open your eyes, Marius!" Prospero snapped. "Can't you see that his mind is made up? Blaise would not defy you like this over a simple infatuation. You say he is young, but he is nearly a man grown. In a few months, he will be a legal adult, and not long after that, he will graduate from Hogwarts as a full-fledged wizard. He is stubborn, as am I, as are you, as are all the Zabinis. Are you really willing to risk losing your son over this?"

"I only want what is best for him," Marius said.

"Do you not recall how you and Olivia came to me when you were not much older than Blaise, and insisted that you wanted to marry?" Prospero asked. "Her family was not on par with the likes of the Malfoys, the Snapes, or the Blacks, but they still felt she could have done better than a Zabini. But she defied her family and married you, and though I knew it would cause trouble for us, I gave you my blessing."

"Well, but Olivia was a woman," Marius argued weakly, "and her parents came around after Blaise was born."

"They won't like it when they hear about this," Olivia sighed.

"I am sorry if you feel I have brought shame upon you, Mother, Father," Blaise said stiffly, looking a little hurt.

"Oh no, dear, it isn't that!" Olivia said. She and Marius exchanged a helpless look. "We love you, Blaise, we want you to be happy. Yes, we are concerned about the family's reputation, but...do you know how hard things will be for you if you follow this path?"

"It will not be easy," Marius said quietly. "People will gossip, spread nasty rumors about you. You may find it hard to get a job."

"I can still help him find an apprenticeship," Snape said. "These sorts of things matter somewhat less in the academic world."

"I'm not doing this lightly, Father," Blaise said. "I am prepared to face the consequences of my actions. So long as my family and friends know the truth, I don't care what anyone else thinks."

"And is this all right with you, Lady Selima?" Marius demanded.

"Severus is the head of the Snape family, not I," Selima replied calmly. "It is his place to say what is permissible and what is not."

Snape snorted, and Prospero smiled in amusement, neither of them fooled by Selima's outward show of deference.

"You can't tell me that you don't care about the Snape family's reputation," Marius said skeptically.

"Severus has already brought so many scandals down upon us that I suppose one more hardly matters," Selima sighed in a resigned manner, and Lupin chuckled softly. "But it need not be a total disaster, if we present a united front," Selima added smoothly. "The boys have been discreet up until now, since none of us knew anything about it."

"I'm not so sure of that," Marius muttered, casting a suspicious glance at Snape, but he seemed willing to hear her out.

"It was the spiked punch that caused all the trouble," Selima continued, "and that is where we shall place the blame. Severus shall put forth that the punch was laced with a potion that caused the students to act irrationally, which is true enough. Perhaps he could imply that it was a hallucinogen..."

"I already told everyone at the Ball that I thought it was a form of Truth Potion," Snape interjected. 

Selima shrugged. "But you couldn't be sure of what it was without testing it. Besides, it must have been a student who brewed the potion, correct? They could have prepared it improperly, thereby resulting in unexpected side-effects."

Snape nodded, and Blaise said hesitantly, "But I don't want to hide or act as though I'm ashamed of Theodore--"

Selima waved her hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, but surely you need not go out of your way to advertise it. I'm not saying that you should lie, child--I doubt anyone would believe you, anyway. Besides, since when was a Slytherin so concerned about the truth?" Blaise flushed a little, and Selima added, "You need not lie, just be a little discreet so that we can put a good face on things and the school governors need not accuse your Professor of fostering debauchery in his House."

"Of course I wouldn't want to get Professor Snape into trouble," Blaise said hastily.

"The parents will gossip, of course," Selima told Marius, "but the only ones who have a right to file a complaint against Severus are you and I, as only your son and my grandson were directly involved. What we will do is treat it as a childish prank, nothing to be concerned about. If anyone brings the subject up, we will laugh at them for taking it so seriously, and act as if it doesn't bother us."

"Hold your heads up high and laugh in the faces of those small-minded pureblood gossips," Prospero told his son and daughter-in-law. "If you act angry or defensive, you are only playing right into their hands."

"It's true," Lupin agreed, casting a mischievous smile Snape's way. "I've observed that it annoys people to no end when you let their insults slide off your back and smile at them cheerily."

The Zabinis nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. Selima said persuasively, "The order of things has changed, as my son and Professor Lupin so often tell me. Those who were held high have been cast down low--including the Malfoys, who were the primary cause of your loss of status. And those who were once despised as less than human--the werewolves--are now heroes of the war. Fortunes change, Mr. Zabini; Arthur Weasley's has--and perhaps yours can, too."   
"If you're trying to bribe me, Lady Selima--" Marius started to say with a look of offended pride.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, don't be so touchy!" Selima snapped irritably. "I'm merely proposing an alliance for our mutual benefit. If the Snape heir is to be seen associating with a young man, at least let it be a young man of high rank and good breeding." The boys looked as though they didn't know whether to be grateful or offended, Snape looked annoyed, and Lupin looked as if he wanted to laugh. "It would also be to your benefit," Selima told Marius, "to have Blaise and Theodore on a somewhat more equal social footing." 

Marius nodded grudgingly, and Blaise decided not to remind them that he really wasn't cut out for a fast-track Ministry career and that he wasn't interested in money or power. Since Selima was trying to help them, and Marius seemed to have given in for the moment, Blaise decided to leave well enough alone and let his parents get accustomed to the idea of he and Theodore being together.

With the arguing more or less over, everyone finally turned their attention to the food lying neglected on their plates. Lupin, attempting to make a little pleasant small talk, asked Prospero, "Are you named after the character from 'The Tempest,' by any chance?"

Prospero beamed proudly. "Why, indeed I am, Professor Lupin. In fact, it was an ancestor of mine who inspired the Bard's tale."

"Really?" Lupin asked.

"Oh no," Marius muttered under his breath, "here we go again."

"Prospero, we've all heard that story about a million times," Selima complained.

"I haven't!" Lupin objected.

"I like that story, even if I have heard it millions--well, at least hundreds of times," Allegra said cheerfully. Blaise just smiled.

"An ancestor of mine, the first Prospero Zabini, was the inspiration for Shakespeare's play," Prospero explained. "The Bard took some poetic license, of course, to make things more dramatic. Prospero wasn't really the Duke of Milan, but an advisor to a powerful nobleman; it is safer for wizards to operate behind the scenes rather than rule openly. Even so, my ancestor was accused of witchcraft and forced to flee from his home with his young daughter, Miranda. They managed to escape, but their ship was wrecked in a storm, and they found themselves stranded on an isolated island far from civilization. Fortunately, his magic enabled him to survive and build a home for himself and his daughter." Prospero smiled at Lupin. "Can you guess what his specialty was?"

A light gleamed in Lupin's eyes, and he said, "He was a Summoner, wasn't he? Ariel is described as an 'airy spirit'--probably an air elemental. And Caliban--the play says he was the offspring of a witch and a devil, but perhaps he was an earth elemental?" Lupin grinned. "I've always been a big Shakespeare fan, and 'The Tempest' is one of my favorite plays."

Prospero nodded approvingly. "Indeed, my ancestor Prospero was the greatest Summoner of his age--no one since has come close to rivaling him in power, except for Branwen Blackmore--one of your colleagues now, I believe. I was very pleased to see Hogwarts add Incantations and Summonings back to the curriculum. But to answer your question, yes, Prospero used earth elementals for tasks requiring brute strength, such as building his house, and he used the air elementals to blow astray a ship carrying the King, causing it run aground on his island."

"And did Miranda really fall in love with Ferdinand, the King's son?" Lupin wanted to know.

Prospero smiled. "The real Ferdinand was not really a Prince, just one of the King's courtiers, another mage in disguise. Prospero the first would never have let his daughter marry a Muggle, not even one who was a prince; he firmly adhered to Salazar Slytherin's principles about keeping the wizarding bloodlines pure. But he did find Muggles entertaining, and even befriended some of them, including our illustrious Bard. He thought old Will had a small streak of magic in him, that perhaps he had stumbled briefly into the Faery world as a child, and retained a certain sense of magic and wonder that worked its way into his stories. In any case, Will decided it would be much more romantic for Miranda to fall in love with a Prince rather than a mere courtier, so he altered the tale a bit. But Miranda and Ferdinand did fall in love and later marry, and Prospero rescued the King and returned home, honor and position restored. And by the way, there was no jealous brother; Antonio was merely a conniving courtier who wanted a rival removed."

"What a fascinating story," Lupin said. "I'd love to hear more about your ancestor some time."

Prospero smiled, looking pleased. "I would be delighted to regale you with tales of Lord Prospero, Professor Lupin. My family and friends are all sick unto death of hearing them."

"That's not true, Grandpa," Allegra said loyally.

"Are you a Summoner, sir?" Theodore asked politely.

"I can summon an elemental or two, but I'm not half the Summoner my ancestor was," Prospero replied modestly. "I did consider taking it up as a profession after I lost my Ministry job, but it was already falling out of fashion even back then. When you mention 'summoning,' people tend to think of demons and Dark Magic instead of friendly elemental spirits."

"So you ended up running the shop in Diagon Alley?" Lupin asked. 

"I tried my hand at this and that," Prospero said vaguely, "but nothing ever quite worked out. Then I ended up inheriting a little antique shop when my great-aunt passed away. It started off being much more upscale, but gradually declined into a junk--" He quickly corrected himself as Allegra started to protest. "--I mean, secondhand store, especially after I incurred the Malfoys' wrath for not supporting the Dark Lord. Actually, it was mainly Lucius who was responsible for driving us into near-poverty. It's true that Lucien got me fired from my first job, but he didn't persecute me after that. I think to him, I was too insignificant to be worthy of further attention. But Lucius...as cold and cruel and proud as Lucien Malfoy was, his son was a hundred times worse. That boy never forgot nor forgave a slight, no matter how minor, and he was passionately devoted to the Dark Lord. He even forced Severin, his father's best friend, out of his Ministry post--not for working against the Death Eaters, but simply for remaining neutral and failing to actively support them." Selima nodded, a bitter look on her face. "It was even whispered--though no one dared say it aloud--that Lucius had his own parents killed so that he might come into his inheritance a little early."

"We'll never know the truth now, since Lucius is dead," Snape said, "but you are probably right."

All the talk about Death Eaters made Marius and Olivia look uncomfortable, so Lupin changed the subject. "So, you are retired now, having turned the shop over to your son?" 

"I have retired from running the shop," Prospero said, "but I am not entirely idle."

"Father, please!" Marius begged, looking horrified.

Prospero ignored his son, and told Lupin, "These past several years I have been plying the trade of a writer."

"Really?" Lupin asked, looking interested. "What do you write?"

"Father!" Marius cried desperately, which only served to make Lupin and the Snapes more curious. 

"Oh, I write novels," Prospero answered casually. "Adventure and romance, mainly."  Lupin frowned. "I'm an avid reader, and I don't recall seeing any books written by a Zabini."

"That's because I use a pen name, so as not to scandalize my family," Prospero said, grinning mischievously at his son, who groaned and buried his head in his hands. "I write under the name Ariel Zoltaire."

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan; Snape just raised his eyebrows a little. "You're my favorite author!" Lupin said excitedly. "Theo and Dylan gave me your 'Demon' trilogy for Christmas, as a matter of fact! I wonder--I don't mean to impose, but if I brought by the books one day, perhaps you could autograph them for me if it's not too much trouble?"

"I'd be delighted to, Professor," Prospero said, beaming. "It's nice to meet a fan. I don't really get to meet many, since I can't make any public appearances without giving away my identity. Although it is amusing to sometimes overhear people saying that they like my books, not knowing that the author is standing right next to them."

"Oh, please call me 'Remus,'" Lupin said.

"Then you must call me 'Prospero'."

"Grandpa's a famous writer?" Allegra asked, looking confused.

"Blaise, did you know?" Dylan asked his friend. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Blaise smiled apologetically. "My parents made me promise not to."

"You should use your real name, Grandpa!" Allegra said enthusiastically. "I'd love to tell my housemates that you're famous! Can I read your books, Grandpa?"

"They're not really appropriate for someone your age," Olivia told her sternly; Allegra looked crestfallen.

"Then I promise to write a story just for you, Allegra," Prospero said affectionately, patting her on the head.

"Branching off into children's books," Lupin mused. "Not a bad idea."

"I was thinking of making a werewolf the hero of my next story," Prospero said with a grin. "The idea of noble werewolf heroes has really caught the public's attention, with that series of articles Rita Skeeter did in the Daily Prophet. Perhaps you wouldn't mind helping me with my research, Remus--you know, make sure the details of werewolf biology in the story are accurate, give me some insight into how a werewolf thinks..."

"Why, I'd be honored, Mr. Za--I mean, Prospero!" Lupin said delightedly.

Snape looked worried, picturing a thinly-veiled version of Lupin as the protagonist of Prospero's next novel. Prospero winked at him and said reassuringly, "Oh, don't worry, Professor. I just want Remus to help me fill in some of the background details--I promise my character will be purely fictional."

"It had better be," Snape growled. 

"And I'm sure my publisher would object if I made the hero's lover a Potions Master," Prospero added. "Although perhaps a Potions Mistress..." Snape glared at him, and Prospero laughed, "Just kidding, Professor Snape!"

"Just how attached are you to your grandfather, Zabini?" Snape asked Blaise coolly.

"Very, sir," Blaise replied meekly. "Please don't kill him."

"I make no promises," Snape said, glaring at Prospero again. "But I'll try to restrain myself so long as I don't see any resemblance to Lupin or myself in any of your grandfather's books."

"You should write a story about your ancestor," Lupin said, ignoring Snape. "About the first Prospero and the true story behind 'The Tempest'."

"I'll consider it," Prospero said with a smile. "Although it would be difficult to do so long as I remain anonymous."

"All the girls in Slytherin read your books," Dylan told him, "and most of the boys, too, although some of them pretend that they don't." Then he frowned, looking puzzled. "But if you're such a successful author, then why...?" His voice trailed off, but Prospero understood what he left unsaid.

"Then why are we so poor?" Prospero finished. Dylan flushed, but Prospero looked unoffended. "Well, first of all, I only get about ten percent of the cover price of each book; the rest goes to the bookstores and the publisher. Also, I only sold a modest number of books up until recently; enough to support myself with, so that the income from the shop could go solely to Marius and his family, but not enough to get rich on. In the past year or so, though, my books have been selling extremely well--particularly the 'Demon' trilogy. I think I'll be able to negotiate a higher royalty rate with my publisher for my next book."

"That's why you could afford to give me a music box for Christmas!" Allegra exclaimed. "Mummy and Daddy got me the toy wolf cub they promised me, and I thought it was strange that I got two expensive presents for Christmas!"

Prospero smiled at his granddaughter and tousled her hair. "I've done well enough that I offered to help Marius with your and Blaise's school expenses, but your father is too proud to take money that comes from such a dubious profession. But at least I can buy my favorite grandchildren nice presents for Christmas."

Allegra giggled. "We're your only grandchildren, Grandpa!"

Marius looked both embarrassed and annoyed by his father's gentle scolding. "Your father writes tales that stir the imagination and touch the heart," Lupin told him. "That's certainly nothing to be ashamed of."

"Writing serious, academic titles is considered respectable by the Slytherin elite," Snape explained to his lover. "Writing romance and adventure novels for the masses is not."

"Personally, I think that being respectable is highly overrated," Lupin said.

"Agreed," Prospero laughed, raising his wineglass in salute.

Lupin and the head of the Zabini family had a fine time at dinner, laughing and discussing Prospero's novels; Marius and Olivia looked resigned, if not happy. Prospero drew the boys into the conversation, getting them to admit to reading his books, and asking them which were their favorites. Allegra listened raptly, and Snape suspected she was going to find a way to read her grandfather's books with or without her mother's permission. 

Still, he and his own housemates had often read books forbidden to them when they were children, and Snape didn't think that reading a slightly racy novel was going to do the girl much harm--certainly much less harm than reading books on forbidden Dark Spells would. Prospero Zabini was surprisingly charming and charismatic--much more so than Marius and Blaise. Snape suspected that Allegra had inherited her outgoing nature from him, but he still had no idea where her naivete had come from--perhaps from her late grandmother, if the woman had been foolish enough to be besotted with Lucien Malfoy.

Eventually, dinner came to a close, and the Zabinis rose to leave and thanked Lady Selima politely for dinner.

"You're welcome," she replied. "I am glad that we were able to reach an understanding." She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Thank you for the flowers you sent to Severin's funeral, Prospero."

Prospero bowed slightly, looking very solemn, all the mischief and laughter gone from his face. "I am very sorry for your loss, Selima," he said quietly.

"Are you?" she asked coolly.

Prospero looked up and met her eyes without flinching. "Yes, I am. I had no love for Lord Snape, but I am sorry for your sake, Selima. I am sorry for your grief."

"Am I supposed to give a pretty speech about how Severin and I found friendship and comfort together?" Selima asked sarcastically.

"No," Prospero replied, "but he was your husband and the father of your son. You must have felt some sense of loss. And for that, I am sincerely sorry." 

Selima had no answer for that. After a moment of awkward silence, Prospero cleared his throat and asked, "May I call upon you again in the future?"

"I am not sure that would be appropriate," Selima said stiffly

"Not as a suitor," Prospero added quickly. "At least--not yet, as you are newly widowed and that would be unseemly. But as an old friend, to talk about our grandsons' education and futures." Prospero smiled at Lupin. "And Remus did promise to help me with my next book."

"If you wish to come by the Manor to see Professor Lupin, I will not stop you," Selima said with an air of indifference.

Prospero grinned widely and lifted her hand to his lips. "Then I will call upon the Professor sometime soon," he said. "I bid you a good evening, then, Lady Selima, and to you also, Remus, Professor Snape. It was a pleasure to meet you, Theodore, Dylan." He smiled with all apparent sincerity and held out his hand, and Dylan and Theo shook it.

"Likewise, sir," Theodore said, still looking a little dazed by the fact that he and Blaise had won the approval of their grandparents. 

"I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of each other," Prospero said cheerfully to the Snapes, "seeing as how we are all family now, in a sense." Then he threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and stepped through the flames before anyone could respond. Marius glared at his father, then followed him; Olivia followed with a sigh. Grinning, Blaise and Allegra said goodnight to their hosts and left through the Floo as well.

Selima shook her head. "He's a grandfather now, and he still plays the part of the charming rogue."

"How did Prospero's wife die?" Lupin asked curiously.

"She died in childbirth, along with their daughter, when Marius was ten," Selima replied.

"How sad," Lupin murmured, then a speculative look filled his blue eyes. "But that means he is a widower, and you are now a widow, Lady Selima..."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Professor!" Selima snapped. "This isn't one of Prospero's silly novels. We aren't going to renew some old school romance after forty years!"

"Why not?" Lupin asked in a reasonable tone of voice. "You're both single now. Of course I understand that you need to observe a mourning period for Lord Severin, but after that--"

"It was a foolish, childish infatuation, nothing more!" Selima insisted, but she was blushing a little. "It was over and done with long ago. We are both much too old to start over again."

"You're little more than a third of Dumbledore's age," Lupin pointed out. "I'd hardly call you 'old'."

"I don't wish to marry again!" Selima snapped. "And certainly not Prospero, who is clearly still as irresponsible as ever! Mind your own business, Lupin!" And then she stalked out of the room, her skirts swirling around her, looking much more flustered than was normal for cool, controlled Lady Snape.

"Hmm, I think that's only the second or third time that she's actually called me by my name and not 'Professor' or 'the werewolf,'" Lupin mused. "I think that might be a good sign, even if it was said in anger."

"She's right, you know," Snape told him. "Stay out of this."

"But what if she still loves him?" Dylan asked. "Blaise's grandfather acts like he still has feelings for her. I mean, why else does he write all these impossible love stories about a beggar falling in love with a princess, or a demon falling in love with a human?" 

Snape glared at his foster son. "Perhaps I should ban Zabini's--excuse me, Ariel Zoltaire's--books from Slytherin House. Clearly they're a bad influence on my students."

"Don't you think your mother deserves a little happiness, after all she's been through?" Lupin asked.

"What makes you so sure that Prospero Zabini will make her happy?" Snape retorted, evading the question. "I've never seen two people more unlike and ill-suited to each other. I'll bet they fought like cats and dogs even when they were still courting back in school."

"You mean, like us?" Lupin asked sweetly, and the boys grinned. Snape silently cursed himself for walking right into that one.

"My mother is more sensible than I am," Snape growled.

"True," Lupin agreed calmly, "but I believe there's still hope for her." He smiled lovingly at Theodore and reached up to stroke his cheek. "It wasn't Slytherin practicality and ambition that made her decide to stand by Theodore and Blaise; I think it was love. Love for her new grandson, and fear of losing him. And perhaps love for Prospero as well. It wasn't until she got a good look at Blaise that she finally gave in, after all. Did you see the way she looked at him, almost wistfully?"

"I suppose it's useless to ask you not to interfere," Snape said wearily.

"A complete waste of time," Lupin agreed cheerfully, and Snape smiled a little in spite of himself.

"I don't understand why I'm not the one with gray hair, considering everything you put me through," Snape grumbled as Lupin grinned. He held out his arm and Lupin took it, and they headed upstairs to their bedroom together. The boys laughed softly and followed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's relationship with his mother takes a turn for the worse; Lukas Bleddri's trial begins; and the R.A.'s plots lead to trouble at the Quidditch match.

The remainder of Christmas vacation was uneventful, much to Snape's relief. When Dylan went to visit the Donners for a few days, the house was a little more quiet than usual, at least until Prospero Zabini stopped by as promised to interview Lupin for his "research". He brought more roses and a box of pastries, which Selima accepted with polite but cool thanks. She served the pastries with tea in the sunroom, watching with her usual blank expression as Lupin and Prospero engaged in an animated conversation. 

Snape listened in bemusement as Lupin described the transformation process and what it felt like to live with his wolfish side in much more detail than he normally did with strangers or even his curious students. He just hoped that Lupin wouldn't regret it when Prospero's book came out, and silently vowed that he would make Prospero very, very sorry if he did anything to hurt or embarrass Lupin, Blaise's grandfather or not.

Prospero also chatted with Theodore in an easy, friendly manner, which eased Snape's hostility and raised his opinion of the man slightly. He honestly didn't seem to mind that the boys were a couple; perhaps it helped that Theodore and Dylan were apparently fans of Ariel Zoltaire as well. Snape smiled wryly to himself as he sipped his tea; Prospero wasn't as vain as Gilderoy Lockhart, but he clearly enjoyed hearing Lupin's and Theodore's praises of his books.

Then again, Prospero Zabini was a Slytherin, and one could not overlook the possibility of ulterior motives. Prospero made a few attempts to initiate small talk with Selima, and seemed to give up and turn his attention back to Lupin and Theodore when his efforts were rebuffed with cool, curt responses. But Snape noticed how he kept watching Selima out of the corner of his eye, even when he was talking to someone else. It was very subtle, but not unnoticeable to Snape, who had spent years obsessively watching Lupin from a distance. Maybe Prospero welcomed the boys' romance because it gave him a chance to get reacquainted with his old flame. Snape wasn't really sure how he felt about that; even if he'd had little love for his father, it was disconcerting to watch his mother being courted by another man.

"Don't you think your mother deserves a little happiness?" Lupin had asked, and Snape had avoided answering the question. Did he want to deny her a second chance at happiness with her old love as revenge for his miserable childhood? No, not really, he finally decided after thinking it over for a long time. If he had not entirely forgiven his mother, neither did he want to actively hurt her. She had become a part of his family when he had returned home and accepted the heirship, however reluctantly, and Theodore and Lupin had grown attached to her. Trying to pursue a vendetta against his mother would upset the delicate balance they had achieved, might harm not just Selima, but also his lover and son. 

But...it was difficult to picture Selima being happy--truly happy, and not just pleased with some political triumph she had achieved. It was even more difficult to picture her as a young girl in love with a very unsuitable and impractical young man. And yet she must have loved him, if she had planned to marry him, if she had gone to the trouble of devising a scheme to win her family's approval for their marriage. For the first time, Snape realized just how much her marriage to his father must have changed her, and how much she must have given up to become a proper and loyal wife to him. And for the first time, he began to feel a little sympathy for her--which immediately awoke conflicting feelings of resentment, because he didn't want to feel sorry for her. Snape sighed to himself; things had been much easier when he had simply hated his mother. 

"Well, thank you for your time, Remus," Prospero finally said, when the tea had gone cold and there was nothing left of the pastries but a few crumbs.

"Oh, it was my pleasure!" Lupin said warmly, and Snape scowled a little. Perhaps the comparison to Gilderoy Lockhart was a little too apt; he disliked seeing Lupin looking almost as starry-eyed as the female students had over Lockhart. Prospero autographed Lupin's books before he left, as he had promised, and also a couple books of Theodore's that the boy had brought out, giving Snape a sheepish and apologetic smile. Then he thanked Selima for the tea, bowing over her hand and kissing her fingertips. Selima gave him a disdainful look, but Snape noticed that she did not pull her hand away.

Snape rose to his feet and said in a silky voice, "Allow me to see you out, Lord Zabini," which caused Theodore and Lupin to give him puzzled looks, and Selima a suspicious one.

"Why, thank you, Professor Snape," Prospero said pleasantly and followed him out of the room. "Although I do wish you would simply call me 'Prospero'."

"Because, as you told your son, we might have been family under different circumstances?" Snape asked, a little sarcastically.

"That, and the fact that I'm not much for formalities," Prospero said with a smile, showing no sign of being offended.

"Don't get me wrong, Prospero," Snape said. "I'm grateful that you've been so understanding about Theodore and Blaise, and that you helped smooth things over with your son. But I want to make it clear I won't allow any harm, however insignificant, to come to my family. I would take it most amiss if, say, a parody of a certain werewolf appeared in your novels, or if unsavory rumors began circulating about my mother taking lovers before the official mourning period is over."

"I did not think that you were one to be concerned with guarding your reputation, Severus," Prospero said with a gentle smile.

"I don't give a damn about _my_ reputation," Snape said flatly. "I'm well aware that I've already ruined it several times over. But my mother cares very much about hers, and no one can cast any doubt upon Lady Selima's honor--as yet. And I know how many of her so-called friends would love to see her knocked off her pedestal." 

Snape was suddenly acutely aware that Selima had little more than her reputation or honor left to her now that her husband was dead and her son had assumed the title. She had once said that Snape could cast her out of the Manor if he wished now that he was Lord, and technically she was right. She did not really have anything else of her own; all her wealth and power had come to her through her husband, and she kept it only on sufferance, because her son chose not to take it from her. No wonder she had always guarded her reputation so fiercely.

"It is well, Severus, to see that you are so protective of your family," Prospero said softly, still with that gentle smile, and Snape's face turned red. "I was worried about Selima when I heard the news of Severin's illness and then his death, so I am glad that she has someone looking out for her well-being. I'm glad that she isn't alone." Caught off guard by this unexpected response, Snape was too flustered to come up with an immediate reply. 

In a more serious voice, Prospero said, "I swear on my family's honor that I intend no harm to your mother, that I will do nothing to jeopardize her reputation or stain her honor. I have hurt Selima once before with my careless stupidity and youthful pride; I swear that I will never do such a thing again. A second chance at love is a great miracle, Severus--one that I never expected. I have waited forty years for this chance; I will not risk ruining things by being impatient and moving too quickly. I know that not only must I observe the social proprieties of courting a widow, but that it will take time to gain Selima's trust again."

"Even so, you seem very confident that you can win my mother over eventually," Snape observed in a sour voice.

Prospero gave him a charming, mischievous smile that would have looked more at home on Lupin's face than on one that looked so much like Blaise's. Blaise was unusually quiet and meek for a Slytherin, while Snape highly doubted that anyone had ever used the word "meek" to describe Prospero. "But I am a hopeless romantic, Severus," Prospero said lightly. "Which you would know if you had read any of my books."

"Why did you decide to grant your approval to the boys?" Snape asked. Normally he would not have bothered asking such a question of a Slytherin, but Prospero was eccentric enough that he just might answer honestly. "Was it just so that you would have an excuse to see my mother again?"

"I want my grandson to be happy," Prospero replied. "After what happened to Selima and myself, I vowed that I would never let any of my children or grandchildren be forced into arranged marriages. Even if Blaise had been in love with Draco Malfoy instead of Theodore, Merlin forbid, I would still have done the same thing, so long as I was sure that the boy really loved Blaise and wasn't just using him. Actually, Blaise tells me that he considers Draco a friend now, which is certainly something I had never pictured happening, but I trust my grandson's judgment--in both his friends and his lovers."

"So your motivation was purely selfless," Snape said skeptically.

Prospero smiled. "Well, I won't deny that I welcomed the chance to see Selima again when I learned who Blaise's secret lover was. I see no reason why we can't all be happy." Snape let out a little snort, half in derision, half in amusement. "But I must admit that your mother surprised me--I thought I would have to persuade her as well as my son to let the boys remain together."  "Yes, she surprised us all," Snape admitted. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Selima would not have given in so easily if Blaise had not been a Zabini.

"So perhaps there is hope for me after all," Prospero laughed.

"Maybe," Snape conceded grudgingly. "But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

"No, that would be most unwise," Prospero agreed, still smiling cheerfully. "As I said, I know I must take things slowly. So for now I will simply be grateful that she just barely tolerates my presence in her company. And so as not to overstay my welcome, I will bid you good day, Lord Severus." He bowed with a flourish, and Snape almost smiled in spite of himself.

He scowled fiercely to cover it up. "I prefer 'Professor' to 'Lord,'" he said coolly. "This 'Lord' business is my mother's idea. Although I suppose you can continue to call me by name, since we suddenly seem to be on a first-name basis." 

"I beg your pardon if I have given offense, Professor," Prospero said, bowing again. 

The apology was politely worded, but Snape thought he could still detect a hint of laughter in Prospero's voice. Honestly, the man should have been a Gryffindor; no wonder he and Lupin got along so well! "You'd hardly be the first," Snape said irritably, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Then I bid you good day, Severus," Prospero said, and departed through the Floo.

Snape returned to the sunroom to find Lupin trying to press one of Prospero's books upon Lady Selima. "I have no interest in reading that sort of trash," Selima was protesting.

"Just try it," Lupin urged. "It's not really fair to judge a book if you haven't read it."

"Whatever gave you the impression that I was fair, Professor?" Selima retorted.

"His books really are good, Grandmother," Theodore chimed in.

"It might give you some insight into Prospero," Lupin cajoled.

"I don't need any insight into him," Selima said coolly. "I knew him quite well when we were younger, and he doesn't seem to have changed much over the years."

"Please, Lady Selima," Lupin wheedled in the tone that always grated on Snape's nerves. "Just try reading one of them. If you don't like it, I promise I'll never bother you about it again."

Selima sighed irritably and held out her hand. "Very well, if only to silence you."

Lupin hesitated, looking over the stack of books he was holding, as if trying to decide which book to give her. He finally settled on "The Beggar Prince," which Snape recalled seemed to be a reworking of the story of Aladdin, from the plot Dylan had described when they were discussing Ariel Zoltaire's books on Christmas morning.

Selima glanced at the cover and the summary on the dust jacket. "He seems to have lifted the plot from 'The Thousand and One Nights,'" she observed, a little disdainfully.

"Was he fond of those tales?" Lupin asked casually. 

"He was always fond of fanciful tales," Selima replied distractedly, still reading the book jacket, "and I once gave him a copy of--" She abruptly cut off the sentence, flushed, and glared at Lupin, who was smiling at her innocently. She stalked out of the room, taking the book with her.

"I'd like to borrow some of those other books if you don't mind, Lupin," Snape said, taking amusement in the look of shock his lover gave him. It wasn't often that he could catch the werewolf off-guard rather than the other way around.

"Of course, Severus," Lupin replied when he recovered. "But may I ask what brought about this change of heart?"

"Maybe my mother doesn't need any insight into Prospero Zabini," Snape said, "but I do. If he's going to be meddling in the affairs of this family, then I need to get an idea of what he's like, what motivates him. If these books will help me do that, then I'll wade through the tripe that's in them, as distasteful as that will be."

Lupin smiled and handed him a stack of books. "You might be surprised, Sev; you might actually like them."

"Yes, and the Ministry of Magic might decide to grant the house-elves equal rights, but it isn't very likely," Snape said sarcastically.

But when he skimmed through the books, he discovered that they seemed to be well-plotted, with the action moving along at a quick pace, and the characters were vividly depicted. He had not read much fiction since he was a student, although there were times when he would have welcomed a brief distraction from his misery after losing Lupin and then becoming a Death Eater and a spy. But he had preferred to let his bitterness and hatred fester rather than seek escapism through fairy tales and fantasies that would never come true.

Still, Snape had to admit that the stories were entertaining, if a little melodramatic. Dylan's observation that Prospero's books were all "impossible love stories" turned out to be an astute one. Nearly all the books involved some sort of romance thwarted by social imbalance: a poor young man falling in love with a wealthy highborn girl or vice versa; a demon king falling in love with a mortal woman; a young wizard falling in love with a princess of the Sidhe. 

One story was about a star-crossed romance between lovers from feuding families, reminiscent of "Romeo and Juliet," except that it had a happy ending; all of Prospero's stories did. They were either a form of wish fulfillment, or the man had a romantic streak in him worthy of a Gryffindor--maybe both. Prospero certainly had a silver tongue, as Selima had claimed, and his charm and wit could have promoted him through the ranks of the Ministry if he'd been willing to flatter the right people--which apparently he hadn't. Snape wasn't able to glean anything else useful from the books, but he kept reading them anyway--just to be thorough, of course.

"Sev?" Lupin called. "It's time for dinner."

Snape looked up from the book he was reading with a start. "Oh, I didn't realize it was that late."

"Yes, you seemed to be quite absorbed in that book," Lupin said with a smile.

"It's research, Lupin," Snape told him in a haughty voice.

"Yes, of course it is," Lupin said with a grin.

"Sarcasm does not become you, Lupin," Snape said, glaring at him.

"I'm just agreeing with you," Lupin protested, giving him a wounded look. "I don't see how you can take offense at that."

"Right," Snape snorted.

"Now who's being sarcastic?" Lupin laughed.

*** 

The next day, Selima took Theodore to visit the art gallery that was part of the Snape holdings. Snape wasn't overly interested in art, so he remained behind, intending to do more "research" on Prospero's books. However, as he was reading, the book suddenly flew out of his hands, and he looked up to see Lupin standing in the doorway, the book in one hand and his wand in the other.

"I thought you were going to tag along with Theodore and my mother," a startled Snape said.

Lupin shook his head, pocketing his wand and setting the book aside on the desk. "No, I thought it might be better to let Selima and Theo spend some time alone together." Lupin slipped his arms around Snape and bent down to kiss his neck. "Besides, I thought it might be nice for us to have a little time alone, too." Lupin straightened up and started to pull away. "But if you're too busy with your research..."

"No," Snape said hastily, grabbing hold of Lupin, "I think it's time I took a break, anyway. There's only so much of that maudlin tripe I can read in one sitting."

They spent a pleasant afternoon making love, and were dressed and having tea in the drawing room when Selima and Theodore returned. It seemed that the outing had gone well, because Theodore was smiling and Selima looked calm and relaxed, even a little amused.

"I bought you a present, Remus," Theodore said.

"And here it's past Christmas!" Lupin laughed. 

"It's just something small," Theodore said, reaching into his pocket. He handed Lupin a small leather pouch that contained a wolf figurine similar to the one Ali had given him for Christmas, except that this one was made of polished wood instead of turquoise.

"How lovely," Lupin said. "Thank you."

"Mr. Bashir sold a bunch of these carvings to the gallery," Theodore explained, "some made from wood, like this one, and others made from ivory or gemstones. The manager said they're very popular, especially with the younger witches and wizards."

"It has to do with the werewolves' newfound popularity and their role as heroes in the war," Selima said, a look of sardonic amusement on her face. "They aren't actually enchanted, but the young people treat them as good-luck charms."  "Good-luck charms?" a puzzled Lupin asked.

"Charms to give one the strength and courage of a wolf," Theodore said with a grin.

"I don't know how all this got started," Selima said, rolling her eyes, although she still seemed amused. "Young people get the most ridiculous ideas sometimes."

"Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if Ali started the rumor himself," Snape mused.

Lupin laughed, "Well, perhaps we should get one of those for Lukas! He could use a good-luck charm with his trial coming up."

"That reminds me," Selima said, "I should invite him over for tea. His trial will be coming up soon, and I want to be sure he's prepared for it."

"Poor Bleddri," Snape muttered under his breath.

*** 

Lukas showed up the next day dressed in the green-and-gold robes and the torc he had worn to the Yule Ball. He still looked stunning, even though the effect was slightly marred by the sullen scowl he wore, and Selima gasped when she saw him.

"What's the matter?" Lukas growled. "Robes not on straight? Or is just that it looks ridiculous for a werewolf to be dressing up as a pureblood Lord?"

"It's just...in those robes...with that torc...you look like Cynric come back to life again," Selima stammered. To the shock of the others in the room, there seemed to be tears glimmering in her eyes.

"Are you all right, Mother?" Snape asked.

Selima turned away for a moment and hastily composed herself. When she turned back to them, her face looked calm and controlled once more. "Yes, I am fine," she replied. "It was just the shock of seeing Cyril. He has always resembled his father, of course, but dressed in proper clothes, he looks more like Cynric than ever. Green and gold were his favorite colors, and he always loved the torc that Anya gave him on their wedding day. I think that you should wear that exact outfit to court, Cyril. Most of the members of the Wizengamot are old enough to remember your father, and if you stand before them as you are now, none of them will be able to deny that you are Cynric Diggory's son."

"Very well," Lukas said, reaching up to fiddle nervously with the torc.

"And don't fidget!" she snapped. "It makes you look like a child waiting to be punished for some misdeed. A Lord should be calm and composed; you must project an air of arrogance, as if there is no doubt in your mind that you are in the right."

"Yes, Lady Selima," Lukas replied in a resigned tone, and Snape gave him a sympathetic look while Lupin tried not to laugh. Theodore just sat there looking bemused at the sight of his grandmother scolding and lecturing the werewolf teacher that all the students at Hogwarts were a little afraid of.

They talked and drank tea for about an hour, as Selima drilled Lukas in pureblood etiquette, correcting his speech and mannerisms, and lecturing him in the proper way to address the court and his pureblood peers. "And they are your peers," she reminded him. "Your blood is as good as theirs; you are descended from two old and noble pureblood lines--never forget that, and don't let them forget it, either."

"Yes, Lady Selima," Lukas said. Actually, since he had grown up in a pureblood Slytherin family, he was already familiar with pureblood etiquette, although his manners were rusty from disuse, and he simply needed a few reminders and a little practice, rather than needing to be taught from scratch. He had idolized his father as a child, and found himself recalling the way that Cynric could convey either respect or contempt with a slight nod of his head, or couch a subtle insult within polite and flowery words. When Selima commanded him to act like a "proper" Lord, Lukas automatically found himself reacting in the way that he thought his father would.

"Very good," Selima finally said approvingly. "If you can keep from growling and baring your teeth, you'll be fine."

Lukas bit back a growl and glared at Lupin, who was trying to choke back his laughter. Actually, that was the hardest part--controlling his temper. Falling back into pureblood mannerisms and patterns of speech was easier than he had thought it would be, but he had allowed his wolfish instincts to dominate him for so long that it was difficult to overcome them. They had saved his life more than once, during his years on the street and in the final battle with the Death Eaters, allowing him to react instantly to defend himself against danger without having to stop and think about it, but it was a hindrance in the precise, formal, ritualized world of the pureblood elite.

Snape, surprisingly, was more sympathetic than his lover, perhaps because he'd also endured Lady Selima's lectures for most of his life. "You're doing fine, Bleddri," he said in a placating tone. "You've managed to refrain from killing Lupin, my mother, and your students, which certainly shows a great deal of self-control, as far as I'm concerned." Selima gave him a cold look, and Lupin kept laughing. "Besides, it's only temporary," Snape said, ignoring the other two. "You only have to behave yourself long enough for the court to rule in your favor."

"That's true only up to a point," Selima corrected her son. "If you behave in an irrational manner, that might give cause for Amos or someone else to challenge your right to head the Diggory family."

"But the court doesn't like to reverse its decisions," Snape argued. "It makes them look foolish. So while you may have to behave with a little more decorum in public from now on, I don't think you need to worry unless you start biting people or howling at the moon."

Selima shot another glare at her son, then began describing the members of the court, and who was likely to be friendly or hostile towards him. "They might convene the full Wizengamot for this," she said. "Normally they wouldn't bother for a simple matter of inheritance, but appointing a werewolf head of a pureblood family would be setting an unheard-of precedent, so I think it's quite likely that a great deal of importance will be attached to your case."

"Lovely," Lukas muttered. 

"The majority of the Wizengamot were allies of Lucius Malfoy up until recently," Selima lectured. "But some of them simply feared him and are glad to be rid of him, while the others will tread carefully to avoid having people suspect them of being Death Eater sympathizers." She paused, then continued in a matter-of-fact voice, "Fortunately, Dolores Umbridge, who was responsible for much of the anti-werewolf legislation, has still not recovered from her nervous breakdown, and is currently knitting doilies and muttering incoherently to herself in a ward at St. Mungo's, so I hear. And Cornelius Fudge, who placed a great deal of importance on blood purity and would likely have opposed your claim, is dead, making way for a much more liberal Minister of Magic in Arthur Weasley."

"Yes, that's very fortunate," Lukas said dryly, then leaned over and whispered to Snape, "Remind me not to ever get on your mother's bad side." Snape smiled sardonically, and Lupin chuckled.

"It is always dangerous to make an enemy of a Snape," Selima said coolly; apparently her hearing was almost as good as a werewolf's. "Now, if you are quite done, may I continue?" She waited until she had their full attention, then continued, "Since Dumbledore is openly supporting you, Cyril, I suspect that he will not be allowed to head the Wizengamot due to personal bias, in which case Amelia Bones will likely preside. She comes from a Hufflepuff family, and was on friendly terms with your father's parents, though not overly close to them," Selima said. "But it could be worse; she is known for being scrupulously fair, and I believe she'll judge the case on its own merits. Also, she backed Arthur Weasley's candidacy for Minister, and supported him on the equal rights bill."

"Yes, Morrigan said much the same thing," Lukas agreed. "And she said she might need to call upon you--all of you--as character witnesses."

"Of course," Selima replied. "We will help in any way we can."

"You have our full support," Lupin assured his friend warmly, and Snape just nodded curtly.

"Good luck, Master Bleddri," Theodore said with a shy smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Snape," Lukas sighed. "I suspect I'll need all the luck I can get."

*** 

By coincidence--or perhaps not, since the purebloods always seemed to know what each other were up to--Lukas received a visitor at Hogwarts the very next day, a man with dark hair and white streaks at his temples, who looked vaguely familiar.

"I am Prospero Zabini," the man said, bowing slightly to him.

"Blaise's father?" Lukas asked, then realized that the name as well as the face was familiar to him. "No--his grandfather. You went to school with my parents, didn't you? I recall hearing them talk about you from time to time."

"Lamenting my feckless and irresponsible ways, no doubt," Prospero chuckled good-naturedly. "I met you a few times, but I suppose you don't remember, since you were just a young lad at the time."

"No, I do remember," Lukas said, although he hadn't until right this moment. "You gave me a book of fairy tales for my birthday when I was five years old, and my mother got very upset when she realized it contained several stories about villainous wolves--you know, Little Red Riding Hood, The Three Little Pigs, The Wolf and the Seven Kids. She was afraid you might have guessed my secret, and my father had to calm her down and remind her that those are common stories found in most fairy tale collections and that it wasn't in your nature to do something that cruel--or that subtle."

"Yes, 'subtle' wasn't really my strong point--a major flaw in a Slytherin," Prospero admitted with a smile. "Poor Anya; I didn't mean to distress her. I never suspected, but of course I would have kept your secret if I had known. It doesn't surprise me, though, that Cynric confided in no one, not even his best friends. He was always a much better Slytherin than I." Prospero stated that calmly, not sounding hurt or offended.

"He promised his parents that he wouldn't tell anyone about my lycanthropy," Lukas explained. "Otherwise they would have disowned him. Although I can't say whether or not he would have confided in you if he hadn't been bound to his promise." Lukas thought it was a little strange that old friends of his parents kept popping out of the woodwork; first Selima Snape, and now Prospero Zabini. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, asking, "Well, what can I do for you, sir? Blaise is a good student; he hasn't been having any problems in my class, or any of his other classes as far as I know. Er...if this is about what happened at the Yule Ball, perhaps you should be speaking to Professor Snape--"

"Oh no, no," Prospero said with a cheerful smile. "All that's been settled. A childish prank involving some spiked punch was to blame, so I hear. A bit embarrassing for the boys, I suppose, but things will blow over eventually." He smiled disingenuously, and Lukas gave him a puzzled look, wondering what was going on. He had expected Lady Selima and the Zabini family to raise a great fuss over the incident, but Selima had acted as if everything was normal at tea the other day, and neither she nor Prospero seemed the least bit concerned or angry. Of course, they might just be putting on a good face in public, but Lukas supposed that it wasn't really his business either way. He had felt a bit sorry for the boys, knowing the opposition they were likely to face from their families, but he knew that Lupin and Snape would be fierce in defending their son's happiness, so he wasn't too worried.

"Then why are you here?" Lukas asked.

"I heard about your upcoming trial," Prospero replied, "and I wanted to offer you my support, for whatever that's worth." He smiled ruefully at Lukas. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid that's not worth much among my pureblood peers. I don't have the wealth or influence that, for example, the Snapes do. But your father was one of my best friends, and I can offer you my friendship, as I would have done for him."

"Meaning no offense..." Lukas hesitated, not sure how to address the man, then settled on the formal and polite title warranted by his blood if not his wealth, or rather, his lack of wealth. "...Lord Zabini, but I cannot call a man 'friend' when I do not know him, though I do appreciate your offer of support."

"Fair enough," Prospero said. "And please call me 'Prospero'. I think we both know that 'Lord' is a rather empty title in my case. I do not blame you for being wary; perhaps you are wondering where all your father's friends were twenty-five years ago. I swear that if I had known you were alive, I would have done everything I could to help you, though I know that is cold comfort to you now."

Lukas hesitated for a moment, then said, "There was no way for you to know I was alive. But did you never suspect foul play in my father's death?"

"There were whispered rumors," Prospero said frowning, "but there are always ugly whispered rumors at every funeral--or wedding, or just about any formal pureblood gathering, actually. I don't think that anyone truly believed them, including myself. I might have suspected it of, say, the Blacks or the Malfoys, but the Diggorys always seemed harmless. They didn't get along with Cynric, but no one could picture a Hufflepuff being that ruthless. Of course, the fact that they lied about your death sheds a different light on things..." 

His voice trailed off, and he had a sad, thoughtful look on his face, his eyes distant, as if he was not really looking at the man standing in front of him, but inward, at his memories of the past. Then he shook his head and his gaze focused on Lukas once more. "I am sorry I was not there for you in the past, Cyril. I know that nothing I can do will make up for that, and I know that you have no reason to trust me. But if you cannot accept my friendship, at least let me make this offer: if ever you are in need, you may call on me, and I swear I will do anything in my power to help you."

"That's a rather bold offer," Lukas said suspiciously. "Slytherins normally hedge such promises in with specific conditions. If your offer is sincere, why would you go so far to help a man who is essentially a stranger to you? You have not seen me since I was a child, and you have no idea who I am now. I am not even really a man--I am a werewolf, a Dark Creature..."

"Cynric and Anya were both honorable and loyal people," Prospero said quietly. "I cannot believe that any son of theirs could be less so. And your father once did me a favor, which I foolishly squandered through no fault of his. I never had the chance to repay that debt, so the least I can do is to offer my help to his son. Besides, Lady Selima has openly given you her support, and you must truly be a remarkable man to have pulled off such a miracle. And also, my grandson thinks highly of you."

"You know Lady Selima?" Lukas asked in surprise.

Prospero smiled. "We were all housemates in Slytherin," he replied casually, "your mother and father and Selima and I, although we were all in different years, except for Selima and Anya."

Lukas hesitated. Prospero Zabini was a stranger to him, and he had no real reason to trust him. On the other hand, his parents had regarded Prospero as a friend, so Lukas had no particular reason to distrust him, either. He had few enough allies among the pureblood families, so he supposed that Prospero's support couldn't hurt, even though the Zabinis were not very influential. But Lukas could not help but wonder what ulterior motives the Zabini Lord might have; was he really only acting out of loyalty to an old friend, or was he perhaps hoping to gain new allies to benefit his family? 

"Thank you for coming to see me, Prospero," Lukas said cautiously. He did not want to reject Prospero's offer of help out of hand, but neither did he think it wise to commit himself to it without knowing what the other man might expect in return. "I am sure my parents would be touched by your concern and loyalty."

Prospero smiled, looking amused, apparently having seen through Lukas's polite evasion, although he did not seem offended. "You remind me very much of your father, Cyril. Or...do you prefer 'Master Bleddri'? I do not wish to be presumptuous."

"I suppose I should get used to being called by my old name," Lukas sighed. "I will have to take it up again if I do win my lawsuit, after all."

Prospero bowed. "Then I bid you good day, Cyril. I meant what I said; do not hesitate to call on me if there is anything I can do for you." He smiled shrewdly. "I expect nothing in return." Lukas flushed a little, and Prospero added good-naturedly, "It is reward enough to see you alive and well. And thank you for looking after my grandson. I hope he never needs your lessons, but it is good to know that he will be able to defend himself if the need arises."

"Ah...you're welcome," Lukas said, caught off-guard, and Prospero bowed again and departed. Lukas shook his head, thinking to himself that the purebloods were turning out to be a bit more eccentric than he had expected. He had expected them to be arrogant, narrow-minded snobs, and for the most part they were, but a few of them had surprised him, like Selima and Severus Snape, his Slytherin students, even his lawyer Morrigan, who seemed to take great pleasure in stirring up her fellow purebloods. 

Unbidden, one more name and face popped into his head: Narcissa Malfoy. He felt his blood heat, felt the wolf suddenly rouse within him, growling hungrily. Horrified, he shook his head quickly, trying to banish those thoughts from his mind. Narcissa was a typical pureblood snob, exactly the kind of person he had always despised. He absolutely, positively did not desire her--at least, that was Lukas tried to tell himself. The wolf, however, kept remembering the sweet scent of perfume and the sensation of smooth, soft skin beneath his hands and mouth...

He snarled and kicked a chair halfway across the room; the one small part of his mind that was not preoccupied with lust or anger felt grateful that Lady Selima was not here to scold him for losing control of his temper. "It's been too damn long since I last got laid," he growled, because surely that was all it was. Animal instinct had simply overridden common sense for a brief moment, but he was sane now. He could have left Hogwarts and spent some time with his pack, finding solace in their company. There were even a few female werewolves among them who would not have minded a casual dalliance, and he could have indulged in a little mutual pleasure with one of them, easing the wolf's hunger with no need for commitments or fear of hurt feelings on either side. Instead, Lukas stomped off to the bathroom to take a cold shower, slamming the door behind him.

*** 

Meanwhile, some of the students had been having a difficult time as well. Ron and Daphne had not spoken to each other since the Ball; both of them turned bright red and looked away whenever they happened to glance at each other. Hermione told Ron that he was being silly and that he should just talk to Daphne, but Ron couldn't seem to work up the nerve to do so.

Harry probably would have been having a similar problem if he hadn't gone back to Grimmauld Place after the Ball. He felt both disappointed and relieved at the same time that he wouldn't have to face Ginny for another week. And as much as he loved Sirius, his godfather was not being particularly sympathetic or helpful.

"Well, aren't you relieved, Harry?" Sirius said with a huge grin the next morning, giving Harry a hearty slap on the back. "It seems that your young lady does fancy you, after all!"

"But what if it was just the potion that made her do it?" Harry protested. "We all acted weird...I felt like I was drunk or something." Professor Blackmore raised her eyebrows at that. "At least, that's what I imagine being drunk feels like," Harry hastily added. "I've never actually been drunk before."

Sirius shrugged, seeming puzzled that Harry didn't look happier. "Snape said it was a Truth Potion, right? It might have loosened her tongue a bit, but her feelings were real."

"It was a Potion of Liberation," Blackmore corrected, "but close enough. Although I believe Severus might let people think that it was something a bit more...er...mind altering, to help Theodore and Blaise save face."

"I had no idea that those two were gay," Harry muttered, temporarily distracted from his own troubles. 

"That's because they were discreet, as most Slytherins are about such things," Blackmore said calmly.

"You knew?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No," Blackmore replied. "But in hindsight, it doesn't really surprise me. I hope they're able to work things out with their families. Selima Snape in particular isn't going to be happy about this."

"But what should I do about Ginny?" Harry fretted.

"You like her; she likes you--I don't see what the problem is," Sirius said. 

"I still feel like the potion made us say those things," Harry tried to explain. "It's just not the same as if we said it on our own, somehow."

Blackmore seemed to understand even if Sirius didn't. She smiled at him gently and said, "A confession of love should be freely given, not forced."

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's it," Harry said, his face turning red. He'd been thinking more along the lines of "like" rather than "love". He still hadn't had a proper date with a girl (his excursion to Madam Puddifoot's with Cho had gone badly, and last night's Yule Ball had been cut short by the spiked punch incident), and it amazed him that other people his own age, like Millicent Bulstrode, were already thinking of marriage. _Maybe I'm just a slow learner,_ Harry thought gloomily, then comforted himself with the fact that Ron hadn't exactly had a lot of success in the romance department, either. He wondered what would happen between his friend and Daphne, and wondered if Ron felt just as confused and mortified as he did.

"Well then," Sirius said cheerfully, "what you should do is ask Ginny out on a proper date when you go back to school, with no Truth Potion involved."

"We won't have a Hogsmeade day till February," Harry complained.

"Then take her for a stroll by the lake, or up to the Astronomy Tower to gaze at the stars," Sirius said, a little impatiently. "There are lots of opportunities for romance at Hogwarts, Harry."

"You should know," Blackmore told him dryly, "seeing as how you've tried them all. Although somehow I don't think that Miss Weasley would find the Quidditch supplies storeroom or the space under the Quidditch stands very romantic."

Sirius laughed, blushing a little. "No, I don't think Ginny is that type of girl," he agreed. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Harry, things will work out."

"Just be honest with Ginny," Blackmore advised him. 

"Yes, Professor," Harry said obediently, although privately he was thinking that was easier said than done.

*** 

Things were not going much better for Draco. He was both embarrassed and confused about what had happened at the Ball. Sure, he liked Avery a lot; she was a good friend, someone he could talk to. But he hadn't really thought of her as a girlfriend.

"Then why'd you ask her to the Ball?" Damien asked skeptically, when Draco, near his wit's end, confided in his housemate. He wasn't really that close to Damien, but he didn't have anyone else he could talk to. Serafina was the one he usually confided in, but since she was the topic of conversation, he obviously couldn't discuss this with her. And he couldn't really see himself discussing his love life with Crabbe and Goyle, either. He might have asked Lupin for advice, but he had gone back home with Snape, leaving Draco feeling irritable and a little abandoned, although he knew that was silly.

"Er...well, she's my friend," Draco replied somewhat lamely.

"Goyle's your friend, too, but I didn't see you asking him to the Ball," Damien pointed out, and Draco flushed. "C'mon, Malfoy, I saw how nervous you were when you asked her to the Ball. You don't get that nervous when you're just asking a 'friend' out."

"We can't all be as smooth as Dylan Rosier," Draco said sulkily. 

"Oh, what's the big deal, Draco?" Damien asked. "There's nothing wrong with liking Serafina. Sure, she's a little weird, but she's a decent sort." Draco bristled, and Damien grinned at him. "Feeling protective of her, are you?" Draco blushed again. "She's a pureblood, so your mum can't object," Damien continued cheerfully. "And she's actually quite pretty when she dresses up a bit."

That was true, and even though Serafina had gone back to wearing her normal plain robes and no makeup, Draco still found himself noticing how beautiful her violet eyes were, or how pretty she looked when she smiled--which she did a little more often now, mostly when playing with her new kitten, Bast. Draco was pleased that she liked his gift so much, but it irked him that she was bestowing most of her smiles on the cat, not him. It was difficult to tell what she was thinking, because when she wasn't playing with Bast, she had her usual blank, emotionless mask fixed on her face. Not once had she said anything about what had happened at the Ball, but then again, she rarely initiated conversations with him to begin with; she usually just listened to him talk.

But he missed those conversations, even if they were a bit one-sided. So he gathered up his courage and sought her out in the common room one evening. She was sitting by the fire reading a book while nearby, Bast pounced on Millicent's cat, Sable, trying to get him to play with her; the older cat hissed irritably at the kitten in response.

"Serafina?" he said, sitting down beside her.

She glanced up for a moment, before burying her face back in the book again. Maybe it was just the heat of the fire, but her face looked just a little flushed. "Oh, hi Draco."

"Listen," Draco said awkwardly, "um, about the Ball..."

"Someone spiked the punch," Serafina interjected quickly. "It's no big deal; you don't have to apologize or anything."

Draco felt a bit hurt and offended, although he had been trying to apologize in a roundabout way. "Was what I said really so bad?" he asked. "I mean, if I'd said it without drinking the punch, would you be mad at me?" He sort of wished that she had drunk the punch, too; it might have given him some clue as to how she really felt about him.

Serafina's eyes widened, and she looked a little flustered and unsure of herself, which strangely, made Draco feel better. He was glad to see a little emotion in her face for a change, glad to know that he was able to make her feel SOMETHING, even if she was upset with him. She was silent for a long moment, then carefully asked, "Are you saying that you meant what you said that night?"

"I...I think I must have," Draco replied hesitantly, because he was still trying to make up his mind about that. "Snape said it was a form of Truth Potion--at first, anyway. He changed his story later, but I think he was trying to protect Theodore." Draco knew that Theodore and Blaise really were involved in a relationship, so he didn't buy Snape's vague explanations of a hallucinogen or botched potion.

"Shouldn't you know whether you meant it or not?" Serafina asked, looking a bit cross.

"It's just...a bit sudden," Draco said apologetically. "I'm a little confused."

"Me too," Serafina admitted, her expression softening a bit.

"But at least one thing I said is true," Draco continued. "I'm glad you're my friend, because you like me for myself, not because I'm a Malfoy." He looked at her anxiously. "Can we at least still be friends? I...I wouldn't want to lose that."

"Neither would I," Serafina said quietly, and Draco smiled in relief, and she gave him a tentative smile in return. That made him feel bold enough to lay his hand over hers for just a moment, although he quickly removed it when she started to tense.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay," Serafina replied, blushing and looking down at her book. "It's just...I never expected to have to worry about...boyfriends or dating or anything like that. My parents planned to marry me off to Theodore. Neither of us was really happy about it, but we didn't have a choice."

"Well, you can relax, because I don't think that's likely to happen now," Draco said drolly, and Serafina actually laughed a little.

"No, I don't think so," she agreed.

"Friends?" Draco asked, holding out his hand.

"Friends," Serafina said, and shook it.

"For now," Draco added.

Serafina hesitated, then echoed, "For now," and Draco was content with that for now. Neither of them was quite ready to start a romance yet, but there was hope for the future. 

Bast suddenly jumped onto Draco's lap, breaking the tension and smoothing over any awkwardness that might have resulted from their conversation. He and Serafina played with the kitten, laughing at her antics as she batted at a piece of string they dangled to amuse her.

*** 

While the other students were struggling with their feelings, Aric was feeling unusually cheerful. He was the one who had spread the news about Theo and Blaise through the wizarding world. Well, actually, many of the other students had probably owled home about it, but Aric was fairly sure that he was the first one to get the word out. The other students had been escorted back to their dorms, but Snape had sent Aric back to the dorm alone after dismissing him from his office. It was uncharacteristic of the Potions Master to be so careless, but he had probably been preoccupied with his concern about Theodore. Aric had taken advantage of that, making a quick detour to the Owlery to send a message back home to his parents, who in turn made sure to send out messages to the other pureblood families.

Selima Snape had shown up in a rage early the next morning, Aric had later heard. The Snapes and Zabinis were trying to brush off the incident, with Snape claiming that the spiked potion had made the students say and do irrational things, but no one really believed it. Besides, Aric had heard Snape say in his office that it was a Potion of Liberation, and he had moved Theo and Blaise into different rooms, which he wouldn't have done if he really believed that they weren't lovers. Aric took a gleeful pleasure in his cousin's misfortune, in seeing Theo become the center of a scandal, not to mention being forcibly separated from his lover. 

Perhaps it was a small and petty thing, but it seemed like a nice first step in his revenge, even if Aric wasn't really responsible for it; he almost wished he really had been the one who spiked the punch. And on second thought, it wasn't really so petty after all. The scandal would make it difficult for Theo to find a bride in the future, and the whole point of Theodore being adopted into the Snape family was for him to produce an heir. The future of the Snape family was now in turmoil, and perhaps Lady Selima would even try to have him disinherited. Unlikely, since Snape was now the head of the family, but Aric would still enjoy watching the Snapes fight among themselves. 

Another little bonus was that since Snape was also gay, some of the parents were concerned that the Potions Master might be trying to "corrupt" his male students. Aric doubted that Snape would actually be fired over it, but he enjoyed watching the chaos that resulted. It was too bad that Theo wasn't here to see Aric gloating, but he'd be back soon enough. In the meantime, Zabini was keeping a low profile and not venturing out of the dorm much. He didn't look quite as upset as Aric had thought he would, but he still looked a bit mopey--missing his boyfriend already, no doubt--and would glare at Aric whenever their paths crossed, as if he was personally responsible for what had happened.

Yvonne was offended by his gloating, and had gotten over her infatuation with him, but Aric didn't really mind. He was already tired of her constant chatter, anyway. Yvonne had never particularly liked Theo before, so Aric didn't know why she should care what people said about him now, except that the Slytherin girls loved stories about star-crossed lovers. They all thought Snape and Lupin were an oh-so-romantic couple, and maybe the fact that Theo had a male lover had suddenly turned him into a tragic romantic hero. Aric thought it was all very silly, particularly the thought of the ill-tempered, greasy-haired Potions Master that everyone had hated suddenly becoming "romantic" just because he was shagging a guy instead of a girl.

Anyway, he didn't really care what those stupid girls thought, except that he couldn't really share his glee with anyone, since they were all taking Theo's side. So when he went to the clinic with Bleddri to serve his detention, Aric eagerly told Takeshi all the latest gossip; he had not seen the mediwizard since before Christmas, as his duties at St. Mungo's had kept him away from the clinic for the past few days, at least during the hours that Aric was working. He knew that Takeshi had an idealistic streak in him--why else was he volunteering to work with werewolves in his free time?--but he had always listened indulgently to Aric's gossip or complaints about his classmates before, occasionally shaking his head a little. So Aric was a little surprised when his friend frowned at him disapprovingly.

"Is it really so wrong for two people to fall in love with each other?" Takeshi asked quietly. "Does it really make so much difference that they're both male?"

"Of course it does," Aric said, scowling, feeling rather put out that the mediwizard was putting a damper on his glee. "This will cause a huge scandal in the wizarding world," he said, his tone of voice changing from smug to sullen. "I'm surprised you haven't heard about it yet."

"Maybe I have better things to do with my time than listen to malicious gossip," Takeshi retorted. "Honestly, Aric, you should try to be a little more open-minded. You can't tell me that none of the students at Durmstrang are gay."

Aric shrugged. "Well, sure, some of the guys mess around with each other," he said matter-of-factly. "And some of the girls, too, I imagine. But nobody goes around flaunting it." Aric sneered. "Not like Snape and Lupin. Everyone knows that it's just for fun, that you can't take it seriously. A pureblood is expected to make a proper marriage, after all, and you won't be able to make a good marriage if word gets around that you're queer." He smirked. "Like Theo."

"Don't you think it's time that you stopped this ridiculous vendetta against your cousin?" Takeshi sighed impatiently.

"Ridiculous?" Aric cried indignantly. "He killed my uncle!"

"Thaddeus Nott killed your uncle!" Takeshi snapped. "Theodore was just a child at the time!"

"Since when are you and Theo such good friends?" Aric asked suspiciously.

"We're not," Takeshi said, sounding exasperated. "I barely know him. We were in different years and Houses, and I spoke to him in passing maybe once or twice during my entire time at Hogwarts."

"Then why are you taking his side?" Aric demanded.

"Because any reasonable person could see that an eight-year-old child cannot be held responsible for a murder that his father committed!"

"You weren't there!" Aric shouted.

"Neither were you!" Takeshi snapped. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled and said in a gentler voice, "You must let go of your hatred, Aric, or it will poison your soul."

"Very poetic," Aric sneered. "Is that a Ravenclaw trait? Or maybe it's a Japanese thing."

Takeshi gave him a look that managed to be angry, hurt, and disappointed all at the same time. The first made Aric feel defiant; the second made him feel a little guilty; and the third irritated the hell out of him. The mediwizard was only three years older than him, so where did he get off lecturing Aric and acting all disappointed like Aric had let him down somehow?

"I get enough of that kind of crap from Lupin!" Aric snapped. "You're not my teacher or my father or my brother, so don't tell me what me to do!"

"I thought I was your friend," Takeshi said in a level voice. "Although right at this moment, I can't say that I like you very much." Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, retreating to the workshop where he brewed his potions. He very carefully and deliberately shut the door behind him with a quiet "click" instead of slamming it, which annoyed Aric even more, for some reason.

"The high and mighty mediwizard is so mature that he doesn't slam doors even when he's angry," Aric muttered under his breath. Then he jumped a little when he heard the sound of mocking laughter behind him, and turned around to face Bleddri. He expected his teacher to start chewing him out, too, but the werewolf looked more amused than angry.

"Congratulations," Bleddri drawled sarcastically. "Not many people can make Takeshi lose his temper--the last one was some idiot from the Ministry who was complaining about the equal rights bill and how it allows werewolves to run loose on the streets. Takeshi is notoriously patient, although not quite as bad as Lupin. Then again, I suppose only someone with the patience of a saint could put up with Snape on a regular basis."

"And what will you do if I tell Snape you said that?" Aric said without thinking, glaring at his teacher.

"Oh, I don't think you'd want to do that, Mr. Dietrich," Bleddri said softly and smiled--a wide, malevolent grin that exposed his sharp canine teeth. "I am not a saint, after all, and nowhere near as patient as Takeshi or Lupin."

"Heh heh," Aric laughed nervously, turning pale and taking a step back. "Just kidding."

I don't have much of a sense of humor, either," Bleddri told him. "Get back to work, Mr. Dietrich." Aric nodded and turned back to the boxes of donated food and clothing he was supposed to be sorting. Bleddri started to walk away, then paused and said, "By the way, it's none of my business, but you don't have many friends, Mr. Dietrich. Do you really want to be alienating one of the few you have left?"

"I have lots of friends at Durmstrang," Aric snarled, "and you're right, it's none of your business...meaning no disrespect, sir."

Bleddri just shrugged and walked off, saying, "Your loss."

Takeshi didn't emerge from his workshop that day, and Aric didn't see him again on the following days, either. When he asked Bleddri about it, the werewolf said, "He has a full-time job at St. Mungo's, you know. They let him come in on work time a few hours a week as their sop to the Werewolf Support Program, but mostly he volunteers his time during his off-hours."

So Aric was unable to make up with his friend before returning to Hogwarts, which left him feeling a little uneasy, although he stubbornly refused to acknowledge, even to himself, that he had done anything that he needed to apologize for.

*** 

Vacation was almost over and they would be returning to Hogwarts the next day, so Snape was helping Lupin pack their bags. "It will be good to get back to school," he said.

"But things went pretty well, don't you think?" Lupin asked.

"Apart from the Yule Ball fiasco," Snape said with a scowl. 

"Maybe in the long run it was a good thing," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Selima surprised us all by accepting the situation, and now Theodore knows that his grandmother still loves him even though she knows the truth about him and Blaise."

"'Love' is a rather strong word, Lupin," Snape said uneasily. 

"Well, you can't deny that she cares about him, Severus," Lupin said in that patient tone he always used when he was trying to get Snape to see something he would rather not. It made him sound a bit like a teacher lecturing a student, and Snape always found it annoying. "She has accepted Theo as her grandson, even had that heir's ring made for him, and stood by him after the 'fiasco,' as you put it. I think that she does love him, even though she might not be ready to call it 'love' yet. And another good thing that's resulted from the 'fiasco' is that it's brought her and Prospero back together again."

"They're not 'together,' Lupin," Snape growled, his scowl deepening.

"You know what I mean, Severus," Lupin said. "They're speaking to one another again, and they've been given a second chance at love, if they care to take it." He smiled tenderly at Snape. "As we were given a second chance." Snape just grunted, and Lupin asked gently, "Do you really dislike Prospero, Severus?"

"Well, his cheerfulness gets on my nerves a bit, though I can see why YOU like him," Snape grumbled, and Lupin chuckled. "And it's a little strange for me to see someone courting my mother. I'm still getting used to the idea that she had 'suitors' before she met my father."

Lupin smiled. "Yes, I know that was a bit of a shock. But in hindsight, perhaps we shouldn't have been so surprised. Your mother is a very beautiful woman, and she must have been downright stunning when she was a young girl."

"It doesn't surprise me that men found her attractive when she was younger," Snape told Lupin. "What surprises me is that she actually had feelings for one of them--it surprises me that she has any feelings at all, outside of righteous indignation about how I failed in my duties as the Snape heir, that is."

"Most of your students probably thought that you didn't have any feelings other than the malicious pleasure you took in torturing them," Lupin pointed out, in a voice that was both gentle and chiding. "Appearances are deceiving." Lupin leaned over and nuzzled Snape affectionately. "As I should know."

"You're ruining my reputation, Lupin," Snape complained, but he relaxed a little, enjoying the caress, and Lupin grinned at him.

"You know, Sev," Lupin said casually, "maybe you should thank Lady Selima before we leave."

"What for?" Snape asked, scowling again.

"For accepting Theo and Blaise, of course, and smoothing things over with the Zabinis," Lupin replied impatiently. "I'm sure that it wasn't an easy thing for her to do, proper pureblood that she is. It goes against all her mores, everything she's been taught. Shouldn't we acknowledge that gesture?"

Lupin had that stubborn look in his eyes, the one that meant it would be easier to pacify him than to argue about it. "Fine," Snape sighed. "Let's go."

"I think perhaps it would be better if you spoke to her alone," Lupin suggested. 

"Didn't you just say that 'we' should acknowledge that gesture?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"It was a figure of speech, Severus. Besides, I think it would mean much more to her coming from you than it would from me."

Snape glared at his lover. He knew that Lupin wanted all of them to be a real family together, but something inside him stubbornly rebelled against the werewolf's efforts to push him and his mother closer together. Then abruptly, he sighed and gave in. He didn't want to argue with Lupin all night, so he might as well get it over with. Besides, he could afford to be magnanimous since they were going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. While he had, surprisingly, enjoyed most of his stay at Snape Manor, he felt relieved to be going back home. The mansion still did not quite feel like "home" to him, and while he'd been getting along fairly well with his mother, things were still a bit strained and awkward between them at times.

"Fine," Snape growled, and went in search of his mother. He encountered Vorcher along the way, and the house-elf informed him that Selima was working in the study. As he headed downstairs, Snape grudgingly admitted to himself that he should be grateful to his mother for accepting Theodore's relationship with Blaise, if only for Theodore's sake. He had been afraid that Selima would reject Theodore and hurt him when she found out about it, but much to Snape's relief, she had not. 

Feeling a little more cheerful, Snape made his way to the study and saw that the door was open. He peered through the doorway and saw Selima and Theodore sitting together at what used to be his father's desk, poring over some financial ledgers. Theodore's head was bent over one of the ledgers, a look of concentration on his face. Snape was about to announce himself and walk in when Selima looked over at Theodore and smiled at him in what was almost a tender manner; Theodore, still bent over the ledger, did not notice. 

"Sales were down over the past year," Theodore said, "but they've gradually been increasing since the summer--because the war ended?"

"Very good, Theodore," Selima said approvingly. "War is bad for business, particularly for luxury items like artwork. No one really wants to buy paintings or sculptures when they're worried about being killed."

Theodore looked up and smiled at her, the shy, vulnerable smile that the boy had often given Snape and Lupin when he had first moved in with them, when he was just beginning to trust them. A sudden pang of some emotion Snape could not immediately identify ran through his body, and he stepped away from the door, out of sight.

As he leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure, he knew that he was lying to himself. He knew what the emotion was, because it was very similar to what he had felt every time he had watched Lupin laughing with the Marauders, or watched James Potter being fussed over by his loving, adoring parents: jealousy. Except that he wasn't quite sure whether he was jealous of Selima or Theodore. He was, as he had once told Lupin, not very good at sharing the people he loved. Lupin's closeness to Potter junior and Black still evoked twinges of jealousy in him every now and then, although for the most part he was content because he was finally first in Lupin's heart, and also because Black and Potter had grown closer to each other and a little less reliant on Lupin now that Black and Branwen and Potter had formed their own family. 

And Snape was used to sharing Dylan, who had already had a family when he first arrived at Hogwarts. He had never expected that Dylan would become a part of his own family, so he was simply grateful that Dylan was his son now, and didn't begrudge the boy his love for his late parents--who had, after all, been Snape's friends--and his great-uncle and aunt. It was a little ironic that Theodore had been so jealous of Dylan, because he belonged solely to Snape--and to Lupin, of course--in a way that Dylan did not. Theodore had feared and hated his parents, and been abandoned by his remaining blood relatives after Thaddeus and Marta were killed; he had no one left to depend on but his surrogate family. Snape had never really thought of it that way before, but it suddenly made him jealous to see his son smiling at Selima with the same affection that had always been reserved for himself and Lupin before.

At the same time, a part of him was also jealous of the way that Selima had begun to treat Theodore with something very close to maternal affection. It was very subtle and limited, compared to, say, the way that the Potters had treated James, and most outsiders probably would still have considered her reserved, even cold. But it was still more kindness than she had ever shown to Snape as a child. She had not actively tried to hurt him the way his father had, but she had never protected him, either. He had hated her for that when he was a child, but as an adult, with a little more perspective, he had resigned himself to it. 

Her family was as cold as she was, so it was no surprise that she had turned out just like them. Selima could not love her son because she was probably incapable of loving anyone--at least, that was what Snape had assumed. But it seemed that she had loved Prospero, and she had certainly loved her friend Anya--enough so that she was willing to risk her reputation to help Anya's son win back his title. And now perhaps she had come to love Theodore as well. 

Somehow it hurt that his mother had been willing to defend the werewolf when she had not been willing to defend her own son, and it hurt that she had bonded so quickly and easily with Theodore when Snape had never been able to win any praise or affection from his parents as a child. He had assumed all along that the problem was with her, but maybe there had been something about him that had made it impossible for his mother to love him. Perhaps it was simply that he looked so much like his father, whom she had been forced to marry instead of her childhood sweetheart. After all, hadn't Snape hated Potter junior because he looked like his father?

_This is ridiculous,_ Snape told himself. He was no longer a child but an adult, and far too old to be needing a mother to fuss over him. He had a family of his own now--Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore--and that was enough for him. He didn't need anything or anyone else. Had he not told Lupin that he would try to set aside his past grudges so long as Selima treated Theodore well? Had he not called a truce with his mother, saying that they should start over with a clean slate? His relationship with his mother had improved slightly; they had been speaking to each other civilly, if not very warmly, over the holidays. He had been pleased that Selima seemed to have accepted Theodore as her heir, and he had been relieved that she had decided to grant Theodore and Blaise her approval. He should be happy that things were going so well. He was happy about it--really.

Snape stood there for a few minutes, trying to tell himself--not very convincingly--how happy he was. "Thrilled, delighted, overjoyed," he muttered to himself sourly. He had been watching Theodore and Selima gradually grow closer over the past couple of months, and didn't know why it should suddenly upset him so much now. But it was one thing to see them chatting politely over tea, and another to see them alone, in a moment that was somehow intimate, looking so comfortable in each other's company, like mother and son. It struck a painful chord in Snape, knowing that he never had and most likely never would enjoy such closeness with his mother. 

And he was struck by a sudden irrational fear that Selima might steal his son away from him. He knew it was stupid and irrational, but he couldn't suppress a little surge of panic, the same feeling he used to get whenever Lupin got too close to someone else, or whenever Snape had done something particularly mean and petty, and was sure that this time Lupin would not forgive him.

He firmly told himself not to be so foolish, then took a deep breath, pushed himself away from the wall, and walked into the study.

"Oh, hello Father," Theodore said, looking up from the ledger in surprise.

"Have you packed yet?" Snape asked, much more sharply and curtly than he had intended. He silently cursed himself; he hadn't meant to take out his anger on Theodore, but old habits were hard to break.

"Not yet, sir," Theodore replied, looking puzzled and a little hurt.

"Well, we're leaving tomorrow, so perhaps you should get started," Snape said, trying to even out his voice and sound less gruff.

"Yes, sir," Theodore said obediently. He closed the ledger and rose from his seat. "Goodnight, Grandmother. Maybe we can go over these again some other time."

"Of course," Selima said. "Goodnight, Theodore." After the boy had left the room, she asked her son in a cool voice, "Are you in that much of a hurry to leave, Severus?"

Now that he was here, Snape had no idea what to say. A number of angry words were right on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that he would look like a fool if he said them out loud. Remembering his original purpose, he said stiffly, "Lupin wanted to thank you for what you did for Theodore and Blaise."

Was it just his imagination or did Selima look disappointed for a split-second? "You may tell the Professor that his thanks are unnecessary, since I didn't do it for his sake," she replied, her voice still cool.

"Then for whose sake did you do it?" Snape snapped, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. "For Theodore's sake? For the sake of your long-lost love and thwarted school romance? I never pictured you being so sentimental, Mother."

"What are you so angry about, Severus?" Selima asked. "Isn't that what you wanted, for the boys to be together? Would you prefer it if I forbade Theodore to see Blaise, and screamed that he was dishonoring the Snape name?"

"Isn't that what you told me?" Snape asked sharply. "That I was disgracing the family name by flaunting my pet werewolf in public? But all of a sudden, you're perfectly fine with the idea of a werewolf heading the Diggory family, and with the idea of your grandson having a male lover!"

"I have accepted your choice of heir!" Selima cried. "I have welcomed your werewolf lover and your foster son into my home! Yes, I am helping Cyril, whom I thought was your friend and Lupin's, and yes, I accepted that Theodore has chosen a male lover! You yourself told me that you would not allow him to be disowned, so I thought that meant you approved! I not only accepted it, I convinced the Zabinis to go along with it as well, even though that means that Theodore might never sire an heir for the Snape family! What more do you want from me, Severus?!"

"I want nothing from you!" Snape shouted, more angry with himself than he was with her. It was stupid to have brought it up at all; they couldn't change the past and he couldn't force her to start acting like a loving mother. Even if by some miracle that happened, he would have no idea how to react. He should have just stuck to their truce, but the old childish feelings of jealousy and resentment had boiled over before he could contain them.

"I thought we had declared a truce," Selima said, looking a little confused.

"We did," Snape said curtly. "Forget what I just said, then. I'll abide by the terms of the truce--but don't forget that you promised not to hurt Theodore."

"I have not forgotten," Selima said quietly, and Snape turned and swept out of the room, his black robes billowing around him.

*** 

Back in the study, Selima sighed wearily. She should have known that the uneasy truce between herself and her son was too good to be true. She felt as if her past kept coming back to haunt her, first in the form of Cyril, her old friend's son, and then Prospero, her former love, and now Severus's renewed resentment about his childhood. She supposed she could not blame him for hating her. She had not asked for his forgiveness, because she did not think he would give it, nor did she think she deserved it. She had always despised people who could not accept the consequences of their actions and tried to justify themselves with whining excuses.

But she had tried, in a way, to make up for her mistakes by being a better guardian to Theodore than she had to Severus. And to be honest, she had come to care about Theodore for his own sake. She had been furious when Priscilla had gloatingly passed on the gossip about the Yule Ball, but when she had confronted Theodore and he had offered to return the heir's ring, she had realized that she did not want to lose her grandson. And when she had seen Blaise, looking so much like her old love, her resistance had crumbled. She wanted Theodore to be happy, even if it meant the Snape line might come to end. He could always adopt an heir, she supposed, although orphaned pureblood children were not that easy to come by. 

But somehow her efforts to help Theodore had made things worse between Selima and her son. She didn't know what to do; she doubted that Severus was in the mood to listen to any explanations or apologies. She could only hope that his fit of anger would fade, at least enough so that he wouldn't be tempted to leave the Snape family again. She had already lost her son once; in a way, he was still lost to her, and she couldn't bear to lose Theodore as well. Selima tried to reassure herself with the thought that Lupin had fought too hard for this reconciliation to let Severus just walk away from his family, and for once she was grateful for his Gryffindor idealism.

*** 

Theodore, puzzled by his father's anger, had lingered outside the room to eavesdrop and was dismayed by what he heard. He felt a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a rising sense of panic made it hard for him to breathe. He had somehow done something to make Snape angry, to cause trouble between Snape and Selima. But Snape had said that he wasn't upset about Blaise...no, it seemed like Snape was angry because Selima had forgiven Theodore his male lover when she had not done the same for Snape.

Snape had always been reluctant to visit the Manor, had always regarded his mother suspiciously even after he became heir again, and then Lord. Maybe Snape felt that Theodore was betraying him by getting too friendly with Lady Selima. Maybe he shouldn't have tried so hard to please his new grandmother. But everything had been going so well during this vacation, and Snape and Selima had seemed to be getting along with each other, more so than usual. Theodore didn't understand what had gone wrong...

Theodore heard Snape's footsteps and quickly ran out of sight down the hall, then Apparated up to his room so that Snape wouldn't realize he'd been eavesdropping. Dylan yelped in surprise when he suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

"Boy, what's the rush, that you couldn't take the stairs?" Dylan asked good-naturedly, then caught sight of Theodore's face, and immediately looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

Theodore didn't want to talk about it, as if voicing his fears might make them come true. "Nothing," he said curtly. "The Professor had a fight with his mother."

"About what?" Dylan asked.

"I'm not sure," Theodore replied.

"Don't worry," Dylan said comfortingly. "They do seem to fight a lot. They've been getting along so well this Christmas, that I suppose they were overdue for another argument."

"I suppose," Theodore mumbled. He heard Snape coming up the stairs and down the hall; there was a brief silence as Snape seemed to pause for a moment outside the room that he and Lupin shared, then there was the sound of a door opening and closing. Lupin and Snape were talking, when suddenly Snape raised his voice in a sharp retort; Theodore could not make out the exact words, but he could hear the anger in his father's voice. He felt even worse than before, to know that he was the cause of an argument between Snape and Lupin.

"Hmm, guess the Professor is in a bad mood," Dylan said musingly, then looked over at his foster brother. "It's okay, Theo," he said gently. "It's quiet now; I don't think they're fighting. The Professor was probably just grumbling about something his mother did. Besides, Remus can always tease him out of his bad moods."

Theodore was afraid that this was something much more serious than Snape's usual irritability, but he forced himself to smile, trying to look unconcerned. "Yeah, you're probably right." 

He felt slightly better when there was no more shouting, just the muted sounds of a normal conversation. Theodore turned away and began to pack, but the fear still gnawed at him inside. He didn't want to be the Snape heir if it turned the Professor against him. Snape and Remus and Dylan were the only family he had now, and the thought of losing them terrified him. He didn't really want to lose his new grandmother, either, but he was willing to give her up, willing to give the heirship up entirely, rather than lose his father.

He jumped a little when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. "Theo," Dylan said anxiously, "are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Theodore said, trying to sound convincing. At least they would be leaving the Manor and going back to school tomorrow, and maybe everything would return back to normal. That thought calmed him down enough for him to smile at Dylan reassuringly. "I'm fine."

"Well...okay," Dylan said, still sounding a little dubious, but he didn't force the issue.

*** 

Lupin looked up and smiled when Snape entered the room, but his smile quickly faded when he saw his lover's face. "What's wrong, Severus?" he asked.

"Nothing," Snape said curtly.

"Did you have a fight with your mother?" Lupin asked, frowning.

"I don't want to talk about it," Snape snapped. He was a little ashamed of his feelings, and he was not in the mood to hear Lupin tell him that Selima had had a difficult life, and that he should make peace with his mother.

"Severus," Lupin said, laying a hand on Snape's arm, "don't you think that you should--"

Snape jerked his arm away and snarled, "I said I don't want to talk about it!" Lupin looked startled and hurt, and Snape immediately felt guilty. "Sorry," Snape said gruffly. "I'm just out of sorts; I think spending two weeks at Snape Manor has gotten on my nerves."

Lupin tentatively placed his hand on Snape's arm again, and relaxed when Snape did not pull away. He gently stroked Snape's arm and said with a smile, "Well, I must admit that you've been remarkably well-behaved these past two weeks. I suppose it must be a bit of a strain."

"Yes," Snape said, feeling relieved. "It goes against my Slytherin nature, after all."

Lupin still looked a little worried, but he kissed Snape and let the matter drop. "We'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Thank Merlin," Snape sighed, and wrapped his arms around Lupin, pulling him close.

*** 

The R.A. met one more time before school started again. "None of the Slytherins confessed to being Death Eaters," Susan said. "The only thing we learned was that Theodore Snape and Blaise Zabini are gay."

"And that Ron likes a Slytherin girl," Dean muttered. "Though I guess I didn't need a potion to tell me that."

"The point is," Susan said impatiently, "that maybe we were wrong about them. Maybe they aren't interested in carrying on their parents' work, after all."

"No!" Stewart protested. "Maybe they didn't admit to being Death Eaters, but they never said they weren't, either!"

"Maybe their minds were just focused on sex instead of politics," Corbin suggested cynically. "The Yule Ball is traditionally a time for couples to sneak off and make out in the rose bushes, after all. And I hear that the more clever students find better hiding places, where they're less likely to be interrupted by a teacher." 

Susan looked a little shocked to hear an eleven-year-old boy talking that way. "We've been watching them for months," she argued, "and we still don't have any evidence of them being Death Eaters or Death Eater sympathizers. I'm beginning to think that we're not finding any evidence because there isn't any to find!"

"What about the hexes cast at the Gryffindor-Slytherin match?" Jack argued. "Or the Porvora that exploded in Vector's class?"

"But those were attacks made on Slytherins," Susan pointed out. "If the Death Eaters were behind it, wouldn't they be attacking Gryffindors, Harry in particular?"

"There was a lot of infighting within the ranks of the Death Eaters, according to my dad and his colleagues," Stewart said. "They might be fighting amongst themselves."

"I don't know if I want to do this anymore," Susan said to Isabelle. "I feel like we're not going to find anything."

"We can't let our guard down now!" Isabelle protested. "We don't know for sure, so we have to keep watch on them. Wouldn't you feel terrible if something happened--like an attack on Harry--and we could have prevented it if we hadn't given up?"

Susan frowned, hesitating, then said reluctantly, "I guess it won't hurt to keep watching them. But I don't want to play any more sneaky tricks, like putting Truth Potion in the punch."

Isabelle, Stewart, and Corbin looked to Tristan for support, but the Hufflepuff boy looked dispirited and distracted. "I can't deal with this right now," he said. "Master Bleddri's taking Uncle Amos to court, and my mum and my uncle aren't speaking to each other. It feels like my family is falling apart."

"I know it's hard on you," Isabelle said gently, "but we can't give up. The safety of the your family, of the entire wizarding world, might depend on us."

"Let's just watch them for now," Tristan said halfheartedly. "We can't really do anything until we know what they're up to, anyway."

Jack and Andrew grumbled a bit, but they didn't have any better ideas, so they agreed to continue to observe the Slytherins, and the meeting was adjourned. Everyone left except for Stewart and Isabelle.

The normally calm and composed French girl paced back and forth across the room, looking more agitated than Stewart had ever seen her, even when she had been scolding him about the unauthorized Porvora attack. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen!" Isabelle cried in frustration. "They were supposed to show their true colors at the Ball! We have to show my--we have to show everyone how dangerous they are!"

"Slytherin has a match against Ravenclaw coming up in a couple of weeks," Stewart said. "Maybe we could arrange something--"

Isabelle shook her head, continuing to pace back and forth. "No, the teachers will be watching the game too closely. They examined all the players and equipment for hexes before the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match in November, and I'm sure they'll be watching even more closely now that Slytherin is playing again." She looked very distraught, close to tears. "We have to do something!"

Stewart wondered about Isabelle's sudden sense of urgency, when she had always preached caution before. But it didn't matter, because he had chafed at the restrictions, and besides, he would do anything to make her feel better. "I think I was on the right track with the Porvora attack," he said musingly. "I just chose the wrong victim. You were right; I let my temper get the best of me. I was trying to get revenge on Dietrich, but there's no reason why a Death Eater would want to hurt him. Susan said it herself; a Death Eater would want to attack Harry Potter--the Savior of the Wizarding World, the hero who vanquished You-Know-Who."

He half-expected Isabelle to protest that they only wanted to hurt Death Eaters, not innocent people, but she stopped pacing and looked thoughtful. "Maybe you're right..." she said slowly.

"Of course we wouldn't really hurt Harry," Stewart added hastily. "All we need to do is scare him, and make people realize that there are still Death Eaters at large."

Isabelle's tears were gone, and she had that distant look in her eyes that meant she was forming a new plot. "Yes, that might be the solution. But the Porvoras are gone, so we'll have to come up with a new plan. Let me think about it."

"Okay," Stewart said, feeling relieved and excited. "And I'll talk to some of my dad's colleagues. They're still suspicious about the so-called reformed Death Eaters. Maybe I could try and get some information out of them, find out if there are hints of Death Eater activity outside Hogwarts. And maybe I could drop a few hints about our suspicions."

"Subtly," Isabelle warned. "Just mention that you're concerned, and don't bring up the R.A."

"Of course I won't!" Stewart said indignantly. "I'll be careful, I promise. I think it's worth the risk to get some Aurors on our side."

"You're right," Isabelle said, smiling at him warmly. "Thank you." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then headed to her dorm to continue plotting. Stewart remained behind in the empty classroom, grinning widely as he lifted a hand to touch his cheek reverently.

*** 

Harry returned to Hogwarts, and Ginny greeted him a little too brightly and cheerfully, and Harry responded in an equally cheerful voice that sounded just as fake as hers did. She acted as if she were trying to pretend that things were the same as they had been before the Yule Ball, so Harry went along with it, but it only reminded him of how different things were now, and how awkward they felt around each other.

Ron was having a difficult time, too. "I don't know what to say to Daphne," he told Harry. "That potion made me feel as if I were as smooth as Rosier--I can't believe I had the nerve to say those things to her!"

"I know how you feel," Harry said fervently. "I feel so weird around Ginny now. So...what has Daphne said?"

"Nothing," Ron groaned. "She just blushes and looks away every time I catch her eye. I guess I should apologize to her, but she seems to be avoiding me..."

"No, you mustn't apologize to her!" Hermione said emphatically. 

"Huh?" a startled Ron asked. "Why not?"

Hermione sighed impatiently. "Because it would be an insult, of course. You told her at the Ball that you liked her and thought she was pretty, right?"

"Right," Ron mumbled, his face turning red.

Hermione gave him a look that was similar to the one Snape gave his students when they had bungled (what was in Snape's opinion) a particularly simple Potions assignment. "If you apologize," she said, carefully enunciating each word, as if she were talking to a simpleton, "it would be like saying that you _don't_ like her or think she's pretty."

"Oh!" Ron exclaimed. "That's not what I meant!"

"But that's what she'll think," Hermione told him.

"But if she's mad at me, shouldn't I apologize?" Ron asked uncertainly.

Hermione sighed again. Harry and Ron exchanged a look; Hermione was their best friend, but she could be infuriating at times. And what was most infuriating was that she was usually right. "I don't think she's mad at you," Hermione said when she was done sighing and shaking her head. "She's very shy, and she's probably just a little embarrassed that she was kissing you in front of half the school."

"Oh," Ron said, suddenly cheering up. "Then...do you think that means she still likes me?"

"She said so, didn't she?" Hermione said impatiently. "Snape said at the Ball that he thought the punch was spiked with a Potion of Liberation. That means that you and she and everyone else who drank it said whatever was on their minds without your normal inhibitions to stop you."

"But Snape said later--" Ron started to argue.

"Snape was just trying to help Theodore and Blaise save face," Hermione said dismissively. "Were you telling the truth when you said those things?"

Ron blushed again and looked down at the floor, avoiding her gaze. "Um...yeah, I think so. I mean, I never thought I could like a Slytherin girl, but she doesn't really act like a Slytherin, and...well, yeah, I guess I do like her."

"Then I'm pretty sure that Daphne was telling the truth, too," Hermione said. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, "I think what you should say is that you didn't mean to embarrass her, and that you wish you could have said those things in a more private setting."

"I can't say that!" Ron protested.

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"I...I just can't!" Ron insisted. "I can't even look at her without getting tongue-tied! If I was brave enough to tell a girl I liked her, would I still be single at seventeen?"

"You're going to be single for the rest of your life, at this rate!" Hermione said tartly, and Ron groaned. "Classes start again tomorrow, so that means your Herbology tutoring sessions will be starting again too, right? You can talk to her then. She won't be able to avoid you, and you'll be able to talk to her in private."

"You can do it, Ron," Harry said encouragingly, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"I'll try," Ron said, without much confidence. "So what about you and Ginny?"

"Um...well...er..." Harry stammered.

Ron grinned, perhaps enjoying seeing someone else squirm for a change. "As her older brother, maybe I should beat you up for getting fresh with my little sister," he teased.

"But she was the one who kissed me!" Harry protested.

"I didn't see you pushing her away," Ron said, still grinning.

"I didn't think you were paying attention to anything but Daphne!"

"So," Ron said, slipping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "are you going to do the right thing by my sister, or am I going to have to challenge you to a duel to protect her virtue?"

"That's not funny!" Harry said, but he couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"You're all being so silly about the whole thing," Hermione said in a slightly patronizing tone.

"Easy for you to say!" Ron retorted. "You had Rosier chasing after you ever since he got here; you didn't have worry about telling him that you liked him!"

"Yeah, it's not really fair that guys always have to ask the girls out," Harry chimed in. "I mean, we're the ones who always have to risk rejection."

"As I recall," Hermione said dryly, "Ginny was the one who asked YOU to the Ball." Harry's face turned scarlet. "So if we're trying to be fair, I would say that it's your turn to ask her out. You too, Ron; technically, Daphne asked you to the Ball by sending you that letter."

"Hey, that's right!" Ron said, looking relieved. "So that must mean she really does likes me!"

"Sirius told me that I should ask Ginny out on a date," Harry admitted. 

"Hey, maybe we could double-date on Valentine's Day!" Ron suggested, then glanced at Hermione. "Er...I mean, triple-date, if Rosier's up for it."

"I think the point of Valentine's Day is to be alone with the person you like," Hermione said.

"Ah, I get it," Ron said, smiling slyly, "you want to be alone with lover boy!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "You're so childish!" she sniffed indignantly.

Harry grinned. "Well, maybe we could all meet at The Three Broomsticks, then go off on our own afterwards," he suggested.

"I suppose so," Hermione said, still sounding a little huffy. "But hadn't you better ask Ginny and Daphne first?"

"Oh, right," Harry said, and he and Ron smiled at each other sheepishly.

Harry didn't want to talk to Ginny in front of all the other Gryffindors in the common room, nor did he want to attract attention to himself by asking if they could speak in private. A number of Gryffindor boys had already given him knowing smiles and winks, and the girls giggled whenever he was around, causing Ginny to blush and look irritated. Eventually, she went to the library, probably to get away from all the giggling. Harry waited a few minutes, to make it less obvious that he was following her, then headed to the library himself. He found her alone in a quiet corner of the library, which was mostly empty anyway, since classes hadn't started yet.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, trying to sound casual.

"Oh, hi, Harry," Ginny said, blushing a little.

Harry took a deep breath and gathered up all his courage, then said, "I know it's a bit early, but Ron was thinking that we could all go out together on our next Hogsmeade Day--you and me, Ron and Daphne, and Hermione and Dylan." Harry's face colored a little. "On, er, you know, Valentine's Day."

Ginny smiled, suddenly looking like her old self, and the awkwardness between them seemed to vanish. She cocked her head to one side, a mischievous little glint in her eyes, and said, "Why Harry, are you asking me out on a date?"

Harry shuffled his feet nervously. "Um...er...well...yes. It's sort of my turn, isn't it? Since you asked me to the Ball."

"Then I guess it will be my turn the next time," Ginny said lightly.

Harry felt relieved and elated. Next time...that meant he was guaranteed another date after Valentine's Day, didn't it? "Right," he said, grinning at her.

"Okay then," Ginny said. "It sounds like fun. Going to Hogsmeade, I mean."

"Great!" Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. 

Ginny turned a page in the book she had been reading. "You guys must have had the same assignment in Advanced Potions last year, right? We're going to be working on poison antidotes; maybe you could help me study?"

"Sure, we covered that last year," Harry said, taking a seat next to her. They looked through the Potions text and chatted with each other, and Harry felt as if everything had been restored to normal--almost. He felt very comfortable slipping back into his familiar role as Ginny's friend, but at the same time there was a hint of something else. A sort of eagerness or anticipation, like waiting for a birthday or Christmas; they were still friends, but there was the promise, or at least the potential, of something more in the future. That was enough for Harry right now. As they discussed antidotes, Harry felt an unexpected bit of warmth and gratitude towards Snape for inadvertently helping him patch things up with Ginny.

*** 

Classes resumed the next day, and Harry was in such a good mood that he didn't even mind that his first class was Potions, although normally he didn't care to start off the day with a grumpy Snape. And this time, instead of looking away when Daphne walked into the classroom with the other Slytherins, Ron smiled at her. She quickly blushed and looked away, but not before giving him a timid smile in return. Harry grinned to himself; things seemed to be looking up for Ron, too. Pansy and Millicent giggled, then leaned over and whispered something to Daphne, who turned even redder. She glanced over nervously at Draco, but he just ignored the girls, looking bored.

"Vacation is over!" Snape snapped, and the girls instantly stopped giggling. "I expect to have your full attention during this class; is that clear?" Everyone nodded and murmured assent. Snape nodded curtly and turned towards the blackboard, saying, "Good, because this potion is one that will likely show up on your N.E.W.T...."

Later, in DADA class, Lupin came over to give Harry a few pointers on the curse-breaking spell that the students were practicing. "By the way, Harry," Lupin said, lowering his voice so that only Harry could hear him, "would you mind stopping by my office afterschool today?"

"Uh, sure, Professor," Harry said, wondering what Lupin wanted, and the werewolf smiled cheerfully at him and moved on to help another student.

"Do you think he's giving you detention or something?" Ron asked during lunch.

"He didn't seem mad," Harry replied, "and besides, I haven't done anything wrong. Not that I know of, anyway."

"I'm sure it's nothing like that, Harry," Hermione said calmly. "Maybe he just wants to talk to you about your N.E.W.T.s or something. And you are his best friend's son, so it's not unusual that he might want to talk to you every now and then."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Harry said, relaxing a little.

So after classes were over for the day, he reported to Lupin's office, where his teacher poured him a cup of tea and offered him some candy from a box on his desk.

"Thanks," Harry said, helping himself to some Honeydukes fudge. "A Christmas present?" he asked.

"One of Dylan's, actually," Lupin said with a grin. "Apparently he always gets more than he can eat." Lupin's pet rat squeaked hopefully, poking its nose out between the bars of its cage. "Well...just a little," Lupin said to the rat, giving it a small crumb of chocolate. "We wouldn't want you to get fat."

"So...um...what did you want to talk to me about, sir?" Harry asked.

"Well, for one thing, I wanted to thank you for the Canary Creams you gave me for Christmas," Lupin said.

"You're welcome," Harry said. "And thank you for the book." This year Lupin had given him a novel instead of a textbook, a book called "The Once and Future King," a story about King Arthur and Merlin. It was a Muggle book, and Harry had been surprisingly happy to receive it. He wasn't really big on reading for pleasure, the way Hermione was; he'd much rather practice Quidditch or magic, or play games with his friends. But although he was happy to have left behind his old life and become a wizard, the wizarding world was still a little strange to him at times, and he could never quite forget that he was part Muggle. And Harry was pleased that Lupin seemed to understand that, and had given him a gift that belonged to both worlds. Maybe it was because of Lupin's own dual nature, being both a man and a werewolf.

"I'm enjoying the book," Harry said, and it was the truth. "Is that really what Merlin was like?"

Lupin laughed, but gently, in a way that didn't seem to be mocking Harry's ignorance. "No one really knows what Merlin was like, Harry. No one alive today, not even Dumbledore, is old enough to have known him. I am sure there is a grain of truth in the tales and legends about him, but tales grow in the telling. Merlin is regarded as a great hero, almost a god, by wizards today, but I'm sure that the stories of his adventures became more exaggerated and grandiose each time they were told, until they became what they are today."

Harry rubbed the scar on his forehead. "Like the stories about me in the Daily Prophet? Er...not that I'm saying I'm anything like Merlin, of course!"

"Exactly, Harry," Lupin said with a smile. "Very perceptive of you. Which is not to say that Merlin was not a great wizard, or that you were not a hero, just that people made your stories even grander than they were to begin with. But in troubled times, it isn't uncommon for people to create a hero to look up to."

Harry flushed, feeling a little embarrassed. "Well, anyway, thanks for the book, Professor."

"I got an interesting gift this Christmas from the Slytherins," Lupin said casually. "A green and silver robe, with a Slytherin crest."

"Uh, yeah," Harry mumbled, flushing again. "I saw you wearing it at the Ball."

"It seemed to me," Lupin continued, "that some of the Gryffindors seemed a little upset, and I was afraid they might have taken it the wrong way."

"Dylan explained it to us," Harry said quickly. "He said that the Slytherins wanted to thank you for looking after them, and make up for how they gave you a bad time when you first started teaching here."

"I'm glad you understand, Harry," Lupin said warmly. "It really does mean a lot to me that the Slytherins have accepted me, but I certainly wouldn't want anyone to think that I was ashamed of being a Gryffindor."

"You...you're not?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Even though my dad and Sirius behaved like idiots sometimes?"

Lupin shook his head. "All of us are idiots sometimes when we're young, Harry," he said gently. "Including me. But hopefully we learn from our mistakes as we get older. And I assure you that prejudice is not a flaw restricted solely to Gryffindor--I have seen it in all the Houses, to a greater or lesser extent, over the years. Gryffindors can be stubborn and narrow-minded at times, it is true. But they can also be brave, compassionate, and loyal. I'm very proud to be a Gryffindor, Harry. And I'm equally proud that Severus is a Slytherin. Each of us has strengths--and weaknesses--that the other does not. We complement each other so well precisely because we are so different."

"I...see," Harry said slowly, beginning to grasp what Lupin meant. "Sort of like me needing to accept my Slytherin side?"

"Yes," Lupin said, smiling approvingly. "And Harry...not every Gryffindor is alike, nor every Slytherin. Each student is unique and special. James was bold and fearless, while Neville is shy and timid. Yet he is a true Gryffindor because he was brave enough to overcome his fears and join the D.A. and fight the Death Eaters."

"There are different types of Gryffindors," Harry said, feeling as if he'd just had a major revelation. "And different ways of being brave."

"Exactly," Lupin said, looking very proud of him. Then he smiled tenderly and said, "You're unique, too, Harry."

"I am?" Harry asked, startled.

Lupin nodded. "I know that everyone says you remind them of James, and I do see a little of your father in you, as well as a little of Lily. But mostly I see you, Harry. Your father would never have had the patience to learn and master Occlumency, and I don't think that even Lily could have embraced her Slytherin side, if she'd had one. She was a sweet girl, and more open-minded than James, but she grew up in a warm, loving family, and I don't think she entirely understood the darker side of humanity. In theory, perhaps, but deep in her heart, she didn't know what it was like to feel bitter and lonely and jealous, which is, perhaps, why she never entirely understood the depths of her sister's jealousy. She always chalked up Petunia's antipathy to fear of magic and simple sibling rivalry." Harry nodded, thinking of Aunt Petunia and her bitter hatred for her own sister. "And no one, not even Severus, ever thought of using Occlumency techniques to imprison someone in their own mind, as you did to Voldemort. So you see, Harry, you are very unique and special."

Harry beamed at Lupin, feeling a sudden warmth that banished any last traces of resentment that might have been lingering behind over the Slytherin robe. People often compared him to James, which at first had made him both happy and curious, because he had known so little about his father. But now it made him uncomfortable, because he wanted people to like him for himself, not just because he was a Potter, and also because he had seen in the Pensieve that his father wasn't as perfect as he had thought. He still loved his dad, but he didn't want to be like James--or at least, not like the young James in Snape's memories. Once again he wondered what his dad would have thought about Harry being descended from both Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, or about Lupin's relationship with Snape. But all he said was, "Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Harry," Lupin replied. "Oh, and I wanted to ask you...did Morrigan talk to you about testifying at Master Bleddri's trial?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said unhappily. "Ms. De Lacy came over during Christmas vacation to talk to me and Sirius and Professor Blackmore. She wants me to testify about what I overheard at the Quidditch match, when Mr. Diggory said that he helped fake Master Bleddri's death. I like Master Bleddri, but I feel bad about testifying against Cedric's father..."

"I know it's difficult," Lupin said sympathetically. "But none of this is your fault, and it's not up to you to determine Mr. Diggory's guilt or innocence. Just tell the truth about what you heard."

"That's what Professor Blackmore said," Harry said, not feeling much better about it. "Do you really think that Mr. Diggory or his parents killed Master Bleddri's father?"

"I don't know," Lupin said quietly. "But I do believe that they not only denied Lukas his inheritance, but the support and love of his family when he needed it most."

"How could they be so mean to him, their own grandson and nephew?" Harry asked. "Mr. and Mrs. Diggory seemed like nice enough people; they really loved Cedric."

"Because they didn't see Lukas as a member of their family," Lupin said sadly. "They thought of him as less than human, a monster." Lupin patted Harry comfortingly on the shoulder. "Your testimony will be brief; you should only have to appear in court once, for a few minutes. And I'm sure that this is difficult for Master Bleddri, too, and that he would appreciate the support of his students. By that, I don't mean openly taking sides, just..." Lupin hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "Just be there for him."

Harry wasn't exactly how sure he was supposed to comfort the fierce and slightly standoffish Physical Defense teacher, but he said, "Yes, sir." 

Lupin smiled and said, "Thank you, Harry." He reached over and laid his hand on Harry's shoulder and said, "Don't forget, you can always stop by anytime you need someone to talk to."

They chatted for a little while more over tea about more trivial matters, like future DADA assignments Lupin had planned, or what presents they had received for Christmas. Then Harry left and returned to the dorm, feeling a little bit better, but still solemn. Here he'd been so worried about his not-quite romance with Ginny, while other people like the Diggorys and Master Bleddri had much more serious problems. Not that Ginny wasn't important to him, but it put things into perspective. Worrying about whether a girl liked you or not was nothing compared to having your family fighting with each other over an inheritance, or knowing that your uncle and grandparents had tried to cheat you of your inheritance, and possibly even killed your father to get it.

*** 

Daphne had been flustered ever since the Yule Ball; she had never been so forward with a boy before, and more importantly, had never drawn attention to herself like that before--well, except for the time that she had hit Draco in the nose. So she was embarrassed and nervous; she liked Ron, but she didn't know him very well, and wasn't quite sure how she felt about him, because she had never considered dating a Gryffindor before he asked her to the Ball. (Though actually, she had never dated anyone before, Gryffindor or otherwise.) But Ron seemed nice--he had comforted her on the day she had hit Draco, the anniversary of her brother's death--and he seemed safe, in a way that the Slytherin boys did not. No Weasley had ever been accused of being a Death Eater, and even if Ron had sometimes said mean things about the Slytherins in the past, she couldn't picture him actually trying to hurt someone, like the way Crabbe had thrown a Bludger at Harry Potter back in fifth year, or the way Draco had cast a Serpensortia spell during his dueling match with Potter in second year.

But Ron had been avoiding her since the night of the Ball, so maybe he regretted kissing a Slytherin girl. He had never liked the Slytherins very much before, after all. She was surprised to find how much that thought hurt and disappointed her. But having no friends to confide in, she kept those feelings to herself. She had expected her housemates to tease her about it, but they were much too busy gossiping about Theodore and Blaise, which was a relief, although she felt a little bit sorry for the two boys.

So she was surprised but happy when Ron gave her a friendly smile when she entered the Potions classroom and took her seat. She smiled back at him before becoming self-conscious and looking away again. Millicent and Pansy giggled, then Pansy leaned over and whispered coyly, "You know, the Minister's son would be a good catch."

Never in a million years would Daphne have thought that one of Draco's in-crowd would describe Ron Weasley as "a good catch"! She cast a nervous glance at Draco to see if he was offended, but he was ignoring them, seeming indifferent to Pansy's and Millicent's giggling. Daphne relaxed; well, things were different now. Draco no longer seemed so hostile towards the Gryffindors, and he no longer wielded the power that he used to when his father was alive, so maybe it was safe for her to date a Gryffindor boy. Dylan was dating Hermione, after all, and Brad Doherty seemed to be dating Melissa Carroll. That was presuming that Ron wanted to date her, of course.

"So what's up with you and Weasley?" Millicent asked as they left the dungeon after class ended. She and Pansy were still giggling, but their laughter seemed friendly rather than malicious. Never before had any of the Slytherin girls tried to befriend her--mostly they ignored her, and every now and then one of them would drop a catty remark about her family, alluding to the possible impurity of their blood.

"Um...nothing right now," Daphne replied hesitantly.

"Weasley's a bit dense," Pansy informed her. "I'm sure that he likes you, but you'll have to give him a little encouragement for him to make a move."

Daphne cautiously evaluated the other girl's expression and tone of voice for signs of mockery, but she seemed to be sincere. "How do you know that he likes me?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, it's only so obvious! Didn't he go rushing to your rescue like a knight in shining armor after you clobbered Malfoy in Physical Defense class?" Daphne flushed at that memory. "And he asked you to the Ball, didn't he? He's always been suspicious of Slytherins before, so he must really like you, to ask out a girl from an enemy House."

"That's so cute," Millicent giggled. "Like Romeo and Juliet!"

"Well, that might be exaggerating a bit," Pansy admitted. "And that story was a tragedy. I wouldn't want to kill myself over someone like Weasley."

"Ron's a nice guy," Daphne said defensively, then fell silent and blushed, stunned at her audacity.

Pansy and Millicent just grinned, not looking at all offended. "Ah, it must be love," Pansy said.

"And Weasley's father is Minister of Magic now," Millicent added practically. "It's not like he's a pauper anymore."

"I don't like Ron because he's the Minister's son," Daphne said quietly. "I just like him because...because he's nice, that's all."

"A true romantic," Pansy said.

"Look who's talking," Millicent teased good-naturedly. "Wasn't your family furious about you and Justin?"

Feeling a little bemused, Daphne walked along with the other girls to their next class. She was enough of a Slytherin to be a little suspicious of their sudden friendliness, but she also knew it would be regarded as an insult if she rejected it, so she meekly walked with them, letting them do most of the talking, just smiling and nodding every now and then. And it felt surprisingly nice to feel like a normal girl for once, to have friends to walk to class and gossip with. She'd remain on her guard, of course, but Daphne found herself hoping that their offer of friendship was real. If the other Slytherins had changed, maybe Pansy and Millicent had, too. Pansy was dating a Muggle-born boy, after all.

Ron's Herbology grades had improved, so Professor Sprout suggested that Daphne keep tutoring him. "He's making good progress, and I wouldn't want him to backslide," she said. 

So they met in the greenhouse as usual, and Ron smiled at her, still blushing a little, but looking much more confident and sure of himself than he usually did. "Listen...about the Ball, I, um, didn't mean to embarrass you or anything."

"It's okay," Daphne said quickly. "It was the punch."

"No, it wasn't just the punch," Ron said, his face turning as red as his hair. "I...I meant what I said. Only, I wish I didn't say it just then. No, wait--that came out wrong. What I mean to say is...uh...well...I should have said those things in private. So I'm sorry--no, wait, I wasn't supposed to apologize! Blast it--"

Daphne smiled; Ron actually looked kind of cute as he blushed and stammered. She preferred his blunt and awkward sincerity to the practiced calculation of most of the Slytherin boys. Dylan Rosier, for example, was incredibly handsome and charming, but his words were so smooth that it was as if he had rehearsed them in advance. Probably all the other girls in the school would think she was crazy if they knew what she thought, but she much preferred Ron to Dylan. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I like you, too, Ron," she said.

She couldn't help but giggle at how absolutely flabbergasted he looked. Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times; at first, all that would come out was a faint squeak. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Uh, well, I guess everything's all right, then." Daphne smiled and nodded. Ron grinned, looking relieved. "So, I know it's not for another month and all, but would you like to go out to Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day? I thought maybe we could get a drink at The Three Broomsticks with Harry and Ginny, and Hermione and Dylan, and then maybe we could go off on our own to...uh...Puddifoot's, maybe?"

He stared at her hopefully, and Daphne answered, "Yes, I would like that very much."

"Great!" Ron said, and they just sat there grinning at each other with wide, silly smiles on both their faces, until finally Daphne said, "Well, I guess we should get started..."

"Oh, right," Ron said, and opened his Herbology textbook, still grinning.

*** 

Things seemed to go smoothly for the first week of school, at least on the surface. Snape was still brooding about the confrontation with his mother, but he dealt with it in the same way that he usually dealt with emotions that made him uncomfortable: he ignored it and pretended that it didn't exist. Back at school, where he didn't have to see Selima every day, it was almost easy to pretend that nothing had happened. It also helped that it was the week of the full moon, and he was preoccupied with brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin and Bleddri. Although he was busy with his classes, he offered to brew some potion for the clinic as well, just to give himself some extra work to keep his mind off things. Dylan and Theodore offered to help, and Snape welcomed the chance to spend some time with his sons, although Theodore's presence sparked a twinge of guilt in Snape every now and then, when he recalled how he had been jealous of the boy, and quarreled with his mother because of it.

Theodore seemed happy to be working with Snape, although he had been a little subdued ever since school had started. Snape wondered if he should be concerned, then decided that it was probably due to being separated from Blaise. He would give them a few weeks to get adjusted to their new living arrangements, and ask Remus to talk to Theodore if he still seemed troubled after that. Actually, knowing the werewolf, he would probably pick up on the boy's mood and have a talk with him before Snape even had to ask. 

Which made Snape a little uneasy, because Lupin was also very good at picking up on Snape's moods. He had caught Lupin giving him thoughtful and concerned looks more than once, but so far Lupin had not spoken to him about it, only given him patient, loving smiles that seemed to say, "I'm here when you're ready to talk about it." Snape found it both touching and irritating at the same time, but he was grateful that Lupin was not pressing the issue--yet.

"It's very nice of you to brew a batch for the clinic," Lupin said one evening, as he sipped a smoking goblet of Wolfsbane Potion. "But Takeshi said he was able to brew enough to cover this month's supply." Lupin grinned. "He was able to brew more than usual, thanks to Aric's somewhat unwilling help over the holidays."

"That may be true, Lupin, but it's always better to have more than you need on hand than not enough," Snape said, in a slightly superior tone of voice that most people would have found offensive, but Lupin just smiled at him fondly. "The potion will keep for several months once it's bottled and sealed, and you never know when you might have a shortage in the future. And while the supply is sufficient for the current population of werewolves in London, you never know when a new werewolf might turn up."

"I suppose you're right, Severus," Lupin conceded. "Although I haven't heard of any werewolf attacks since the Distribution Program started."

"Besides," Snape added, "it's not that much extra work with Theodore and Dylan helping me." The boys smiled at him proudly, and he gave them each a brief pat on the shoulder, and Lupin smiled at all of them lovingly. And for the moment, his worries and resentment vanished, and it felt like they were a family again, as they had been during the summer, when it had been just the four of them living together in Lupin's little cottage in the woods.

*** 

Blaise was also concerned about Theodore, who had seemed a little distant ever since he had returned from Christmas vacation. They did their homework together with Dylan and Damien as usual, laughing and joking with each other, and stole a few kisses when they could contrive to be alone for a few minutes, but Blaise felt like there was something Theodore was not telling him, and it reminded him uncomfortably of how things had been before the war ended, when there had been shadows and secrets behind Theodore's gray-green eyes. It was even more difficult than usual to talk to him, since they had little privacy now that they no longer shared a room together.

One night when the four friends were studying in Theodore's room, Damien said casually, "Hey, Dylan, did you see the latest issue of Quidditch Monthly? They did a cover story on the Caerphilly Catapults."

"Really?" Dylan asked. "That's my favorite team."

"I know," Damien replied. "I have a copy in my room, if you wanna take a look at it."

"Sure," Dylan said, rising to his feet.

"We'll be back later," Damien said, grinning and winking at Blaise and Theo on his way out.

Blaise laughed, "Not very subtle, but it's nice of them to give us some time alone." Theodore smiled, but still looked a little distant and distracted. Blaise was grateful to Damien and Dylan, but not for the reasons they might have expected; the first thing on his mind was not sex, but relief that he finally had a chance to talk to Theo alone.

"Theo?" Blaise asked hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Theodore said, a little too quickly. "Except for trying to memorize those dates for our History of Magic quiz. Can't Dumbledore at least hire a teacher who's still alive? Although I heard that Binns was just as boring when he was alive, so maybe it wouldn't make that much of a difference."

"It's just that it seems like something's been bothering you ever since you got back from vacation," Blaise persisted.

"I said it was nothing!" Theodore snapped.

Blaise looked his lover directly in the eyes and said quietly, "If you don't want to talk about it, Theo, just say so, but please don't lie to me. I thought we were going to be honest with each other from now on."

Theodore flushed, looking guilty. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It's just...habit."

"I know," Blaise said, wrapping his arms around Theo. "It's okay. It's just that when I see you looking unhappy, I want to help if I can, even if I all can do is lend a sympathetic ear." So Theo told him, in a halting voice, about the fight that Snape had had with Selima.

"I'm sure that he's not mad at you, Theo," Blaise said gently. "The Professor was estranged from his parents for...what? Fifteen, sixteen years? Things aren't always going to go smoothly between him and his mother."

"I guess," Theodore said unhappily. "But it seemed like they were fighting over me..."

"Well, maybe you should talk to the Professor about it," Blaise suggested.

"No!" Theodore said vehemently, pulling away from Blaise. "What if he gets mad at me for eavesdropping? He's already angry with Lady Selima because of me. What if...?" His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, and he finally voiced his worst fear. "What if he doesn't want me to be his son anymore?" 

"The Professor loves you," Blaise tried to reassure him. "That would never happen!"

"How do you know?" Theodore retorted. "Snape's parents disowned him, and he was of their blood; I'm not even his real son!"

"Theo," Blaise said, trying to calm his lover down, "you know that the Professor thinks of you as his real son. He would never disown you. Look, everyone knows Snape has a bad temper; I'm sure that this fight, whatever it was about, will blow over after he's had a little time to cool off."

"That's easy for you to say!" Theodore snapped. "You've still got your original parents--parents who love you and would never disown you, let alone use you as a guinea pig to try out new curses on! How can a Slytherin be so damn naive?!" Blaise was stunned into silence, and Theo immediately looked guilty.

"I'm sorry," Theodore said softly. "But you don't know what it's like to be alone--truly alone, with no family to depend on. You don't know what it's like to have parents who don't love you. I finally have a family that loves me, Blaise, and I can't do anything to risk losing them, I just can't!"

"I'm sorry, Theo," Blaise said, and tentatively slipped an arm around his lover. He felt relieved when Theo leaned into embrace, resting his head on Blaise's shoulder. "You're right, I can't really know how you feel."

"Well, it's not your fault that you have a nice family," Theodore said apologetically. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Blaise kissed him lightly and said, "That's okay. But I still think you're underestimating Snape. I honestly don't believe that he'd disown you, no matter how mad he is. And I think that whatever he's angry about probably has more to do with his mother than with you."

"I can't take the risk," Theodore repeated stubbornly.

He was still looking a little frantic, and Blaise sensed that he would only start another argument if he kept pushing. So he kissed Theo again and said, "Okay," and felt him relax a little. "If you don't want to talk to Snape, maybe you could talk to Lupin about it," Blaise suggested. "He might know what's bothering the Professor, and he's really good at calming Snape down."

Theodore was silent for a long time, then he finally said, "I'll think about it." He didn't sound very confident, but there didn't seem to be anything more that Blaise could do. If he went behind Theo's back to talk to Lupin or Snape himself, Theo would probably regard that as a betrayal of his trust, and he would never forgive Blaise. So he simply held Theo and kissed him, and hoped that Snape's argument with his mother really would blow over. Nothing could really cure Theo's fears but time, Blaise decided. It was only natural that Theo was insecure; he had only been Snape's son for a few months, while he had been the son and victim of the sadistic Thaddeus Nott for almost seventeen years. Eventually he'd see that Snape and Lupin really loved him, and wouldn't abandon him. Until then, Blaise would do his best to comfort and reassure him.

"I love you, Theo," Blaise whispered. "No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

"I love you, too," Theodore whispered back. They simply held each other for a few more minutes, until Dylan and Damien returned, talking loudly and making a great deal of noise to announce their presence. Theodore and Blaise hastily disentangled themselves, grinning at each other, and everything seemed to be all right again, at least for the moment.

*** 

Most of the school was still gossiping about what had happened at the Yule Ball--about Theodore and Blaise in particular. They tried to follow Lady Selima's advice and ignore it for the most part, but finally Theodore got fed up one day when Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke were being particularly obnoxious.

"I'm not surprised that they turned out to be queer," Jack said, loud enough for his voice to carry over to the Slytherin table. "Especially Snape."

"Yeah, like father, like son, right?" Andrew snickered.

"I wonder what he had to do to convince Professor Snape to make him his heir?" Jack said in an insinuating tone.

"Knock it off!" Harry said sharply, and Hermione threatened them with detention, reminding them, "I'm a prefect!"

"Oh, go ahead and give me detention, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," Jack sneered. "You're only sticking up for them because your boyfriend's a Slytherin."

"Maybe you'd better a keep an eye on your boyfriend," Andrew suggested knowingly. "After all, isn't he...close...to Snape and Zabini?"

Hermione's face turned red with anger, and she opened her mouth to shout at them at the exact moment Theodore turned around to face the Gryffindors, his gray-green eyes glittering with anger. Blaise laid a hand on his arm, pleading, "Don't do anything stupid, Theo."

"Don't worry," Theodore whispered, then turned back to the Gryffindors with an amused smile on his face. "You Gryffindors are so provincial," he said in a condescending voice. "One would think you'd never heard of homosexuality before." Jack and Andrew looked confused but angry, knowing they were being insulted even if they didn't exactly understand how.

"Gryffindor isn't full of queers like Slytherin!" Andrew snapped.

Theodore laughed, still with that look of amused condescension on his face. "Oh, come now! Surely you don't think that Slytherins are the only ones who have...ah...shall we say, played for the other team?" He smirked. "Quite an apt analogy, considering how...close...Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell were."

"You're a liar, Snape!" Jack snarled.

"Angelina used to date my brother Fred," Ron protested. He didn't approve of the way that Sloper and Kirke were taunting Theodore, but neither did he like the way that Theodore was slandering his former teammates.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "How naive can you be? Sure, she went to the Ball with Fred, but it was probably just a cover so that no one would suspect the truth. If you ask your brother, I'll bet he'll tell you that they never went at it hot and heavy."

As Ron spluttered, Lavender said to Parvati hesitantly, "Didn't Angelina and Katie move into a flat together after they graduated? I thought they were just roommates, but maybe..."

"Don't listen to that liar!" Andrew shouted.

"Yes, there must have been quite a lot of action going on in the Gryffindor locker room," Theodore said, thoroughly enjoying himself. "I hear that Oliver Wood did half of the Gryffindor team--and I don't mean just the female half."

Theodore calmly turned back to his breakfast as an uproar arose at the Gryffindor table, with the students shouting so loudly that Professor McGonagall came down from the head table to take twenty points off her own House.

"But it's Snape's fault!" Jack protested. "He was telling lies about the Gryffindor team!"

"Oh?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrows. "What sort of lies?"

Jack flushed, unwilling to answer, and Theodore smiled innocently. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to upset them. I just passed on a little harmless gossip, since they seem to enjoy that kind of thing so much."

McGonagall gave both boys a hard look. "No more gossip from now on," she said sternly. "Perhaps I'll assign some extra homework in my classes, since you seem to have so much free time." She went back to the head table, and the Gryffindors subsided, Jack and Andrew grumbling sullenly but quietly.

"You went too far, Snape," Harry said accusingly. "I don't blame you for being mad at those two gits, but Katie and Angelina and Oliver never did anything to you."

Theodore shrugged. "I don't care if they call me names, but I won't let them insult my family that way."

"Then deal with Sloper and Kirke directly!" Harry said.

"I'm a Slytherin, Potter," Theodore said with a smile. "We don't do anything directly. If I get into a fist fight with those two idiots, I'll be the one who gets in trouble, and what's the point of that? This way they lose points, but I don't." Harry just stared at him, still looking angry, but a little confused, and a little respectful as well. "But if it makes you feel better, I apologize for saying those things about Bell, Johnson, and Wood," Theodore said placatingly. He supposed that he shouldn't offend the Boy Who Lived too much, since Lupin was fond of him.

As breakfast resumed, Goyle leaned over and whispered, "I didn't know Wood was gay!"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "He isn't, as far as I know. I only said that to piss off the Gryffindors. But I really did see Bell and Johnson in The Hog's Head once, in a table in the corner, holding hands."

"Two girls together," Crabbe mused. "Wow, that's kind of hot!"

"Don't let Luna hear you say that!" Goyle laughed.

Pansy sniffed disdainfully. "Don't be a Neanderthal, Crabbe."

Everyone laughed, and Slytherins enjoyed their little victory over Gryffindor, although as Draco put it, "In a battle of wits, Gryffindor is obviously handicapped," and everyone laughed even harder.

*** 

Things began to get worse in the next week, though. First, during the usually flurry of morning mail delivery, an owl dropped a bag of sugar skulls in front of Harry as he was eating breakfast.

"Hey, cool!" Ron said. "I thought Honeydukes stopped carrying those after Halloween. Mind if I have some?"

Harry, looking bemused, held the bag out to him. "I don't know who they're from," he said. "There's no note attached."

As Ron popped a skull into his mouth, Jack Sloper said, "Weasley, you idiot! What if those are poisoned?"

But Ron had already chewed and swallowed the piece of candy. "It tastes fine," Ron said. "And where do you get off calling me an idiot? Who'd want to poison Harry?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Skulls...Death Eaters; get it?" he said in an exaggeratedly slow and patient voice.

"That's a bit far-fetched, isn't it?" Ron asked uneasily. "There are no more Death Eaters, right?"

"Are there?" Jack asked, his gaze shifting towards the Slytherin table.

"You're so stupid, Jack Sloper!" Allegra said angrily.

Jack sneered at her. "How do we know you didn't send them? Your brother's a Slytherin."

"For one thing," Allegra said, giving him a disdainful look, "my brother is not a Death Eater. My family lost our fortune because my Grandpa wouldn't support them, but I guess you're too ignorant to know that." As Jack spluttered in anger, she continued calmly, "For another thing, I'm a first-year, so I can't go to Hogsmeade. Therefore, I couldn't have bought the candy. And finally, I don't have an owl, so I couldn't have sent the candy to Harry even if I did have some."

"Did anyone recognize that owl?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"I...I'm not sure," Neville stuttered hesitantly, "but I think it might be one of the school owls. I use them to send letters home sometimes, since I don't have an owl of my own, only Trevor." He patted his pet toad, who was resting in the pocket of Neville's robes.

"So she could have sent the skulls to Potter, after all!" Jack said triumphantly.

"She didn't go to the Owlery this morning," Portia said, glaring at Jack. "Allegra was with me and Chloe and Emma all morning before we came to breakfast." The other two girls nodded emphatically.

"Then it could have been one of the Slytherins," Jack argued.

"It does seem strange, Harry, that someone would be sending you Halloween candy in January," Dean pointed out, looking over at the Slytherin table suspiciously.

"Well, Ron seems okay," Ginny said, after looking her brother over carefully, "so I think it's all right. Maybe it's just somebody's idea of a dumb joke."

"Ha ha," said Harry grimly. "I don't find it very funny."

"Me neither," said Ginny. "Maybe you'd better have Professor Snape test the candy, just in case. Or you could just wait and see if Ron gets sick."

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly.

Although Ron said he felt fine, Ginny and Hermione both insisted that Harry see Professor Snape, just to be on the safe side. So although he didn't relish the idea of asking the Potions Master for a favor, he hurried over to the head table to catch Snape before he left after breakfast ended. He made Ron come along with him for moral support. "Besides," Harry pointed out, as Ron protested, "if the candy really is poisoned, Snape will have to give you an antidote." Ron groaned, but followed Harry to the head table.

Snape frowned and Lupin looked worried as Harry explained his request. He expected Snape to scold him for wasting his time, maybe even accuse Harry of being swell-headed and arrogant, to imagine that he was so important that someone would want to poison him. But Snape just said, "Very well, Potter; come with me," and led Harry and Ron down to his office in the dungeon. Lupin tagged along, still looking worried.

Snape cast some spells on the candy, and dissolved a few of the skulls in test tubes of unidentifiable liquids, then finally declared, "The candy is not poisoned, nor do I detect any sort of enchantment or curse on it."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thanks, Professor. Sorry for wasting your time."

"I knew we shouldn't have listened to that paranoid git Sloper," Ron muttered under his breath.

But Snape was still frowning. "Honeydukes only sells this type of candy in October, for Halloween. Is it a particular favorite of yours, Potter?"

"No, not really, Professor," Harry replied. "My favorites are Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Beans."

"So the question is," Lupin said softly, "why would someone be sending you stale Halloween candy in January? It seems like a rather odd gift."

"It's not stale," Ron pointed out. "It still tastes pretty good."

"Seeing as how it's made of pure sugar, I'm sure that it keeps well," Snape said sarcastically. "But that doesn't answer Lupin's question."

"Ginny thought it might be a joke--a not very funny one," Harry said.

"No doubt," Snape said sourly as he scowled at the bag of skulls. "Hogwarts seems to be full of pranksters of late." He handed the bag of candy back to Harry and said, "Well, the two of you had better get to class now; I'm not going to write you an excuse slip if you're late."

"And let us know if anyone plays any more 'jokes' on you," Lupin said gravely.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, and hurried off to class. "Do you want these?" he asked, offering the bag of candy to Ron. "I've lost my appetite, somehow."

Ron looked at the bag of sugar skulls and sighed. "Me too, I guess." They went to class and tossed the bag in the wastebasket.

*** 

Back in his office, Snape made no move to leave, although he had a class to get to as well. Then again, nobody would give him detention if he was late. He stood there staring at the doorway through which the boys had just exited, a brooding look on his face, until Lupin finally said, "Severus? Do you really think it's a prank?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "A nasty-minded but fairly harmless one this time. The question is, who was the real target of the prank--Potter or my Slytherins?" It was a rhetorical question, and Snape answered it himself before Lupin could reply. "I would say the latter, judging from the previous pranks, in which the victims were Slytherins. Well, I suppose we can't be sure that Theodore and Blaise were the actual target of the Yule Ball prankster, but it seems that whoever was behind it wanted someone to spill their secrets, and the Slytherins tend to have more secrets to keep than the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws."

"You think that someone sent the candy skulls to Harry to draw suspicion onto the Slytherins?" Lupin asked. "I suppose it's possible, although it's a roundabout sort of way to do it." Lupin began to look even more concerned. "Then maybe Aric wasn't the real target of the Porvora attack, after all. Maybe Aric was only attacked in order to implicate Theo. Because he's a Death Eater's son?"

"Twice over," Snape said, smiling humorlessly. "Both his natural and adoptive fathers were Death Eaters."

"And Dylan was the victim of the first so-called 'prank,'" Lupin said, turning a little pale. "Severus, maybe whoever is behind this is actually targeting YOU!"

"It's possible," Snape admitted, not looking very happy about it. 

Snape was calm, despite his distress, while Lupin grew increasingly agitated. "But who could do such a thing?" he cried.

"Presumably someone with a grudge against the Death Eaters," Snape said. "While many of the students despise me, I don't think that someone would try to hurt or kill my sons just to get back at me for a bad grade or failed exam. Unfortunately, there are any number of students who have lost relatives to the Death Eaters: Mr. Ackerley, Miss Laroque, Miss Bones, even Mr. Potter himself--"

"Surely you don't think Harry is behind this!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Of course not, Lupin," Snape said impatiently. "I was just pointing out that there are many students whose relatives were killed during the war--that even includes two of my Slytherins, Mr. Dietrich and Miss Greengrass, although I don't think that they're behind this, either. And those are just the students who lost immediate family members. If we include distant relations and family friends, the list goes even higher. And there are of course students who were affected adversely by the war even if their relatives weren't killed, exactly--like Longbottom, whose parents spent the last sixteen years in St. Mungo's, or Zabini, whose family was ruined financially. And no, Lupin, I don't think that they have anything to do with it, either, but I am sure there are many other students with similar stories who might be less forgiving."

"Who can it be?" Lupin asked in frustration. "And how can you be so calm about it?"

"Panicking won't help anything," Snape replied coolly. "For the sake of self-preservation, I learned how to contain my fear and impatience while serving Voldemort many years ago."

"Of course," Lupin said contritely, slipping his arms around Snape and leaning against him. "I know how hard it must have been for you, and I didn't mean to imply that you weren't worried. It's just that I'm scared, Severus. I'm scared that someone wants to hurt my family. Today's prank was harmless, but what about the next one? And Theodore and Dylan have another Quidditch match coming up next week..."

"We'll check the players and their equipment thoroughly for hexes before the game starts," Snape said reassuringly, but he looked troubled, too. "You know, if this is an attack on me personally, it's an indirect one, which implies a certain amount of deviousness and cunning. Which points back towards Slytherin, except that this is too subtle for Aric, the only likely suspect. And I think a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff would make a more straightforward attack. A Ravenclaw might be capable of it, but the only suspect who immediately comes to mind is Ackerley. And while he's an obnoxious little brat, I don't picture him being this subtle, either. We'll have to watch all of the students very carefully, Lupin."

"I thought we were done with searching for spies, with expecting betrayal in our midst," Lupin said unhappily. "The war is supposed to be over!"

"Sometimes I think it will never be over," Snape sighed wearily. Then, seeing Lupin looking so miserable, he kissed the werewolf and said in an almost gentle voice, "Go on to class, Lupin; we're both late. Don't worry, we're just dealing with some spiteful brats, not actual Death Eaters. And when I finally get my hands on those brats, I'm going to make them wish they'd never been born." He gave Lupin his most wicked and sadistic smile, which had the desired effect and made Lupin laugh.

But when Lupin was out of Snape's sight, his face slipped back into an expression of fear and worry as he left the dungeon and headed upstairs to the DADA classroom.

*** 

The second troublesome thing that happened that week was much more serious. It started out innocently enough, with Lady Selima sending a letter inviting Snape, Lupin, and the boys to tea on Saturday afternoon. To Lupin, the invitation was nothing out of the ordinary, and indeed, he had been expecting one. Snape, on the other hand, wondered uneasily if it was an ordinary invitation and Selima was simply pretending that their argument had never happened, or if it might be a peace offering of sorts. He was not in a hurry to return to Snape Manor and find out, but he couldn't think of a way to refuse without making Lupin suspicious.

So Lupin asked the boys to drop by his and Snape's quarters before dinner, and cheerfully informed them that they would be going to Snape Manor that weekend. Theodore's reaction surprised him.

"Do we have to go?" Theodore protested in a voice that was just short of being sullen, almost whiny.

"Is there some reason you don't want to go?" Lupin asked carefully, giving his foster son a puzzled look. He seemed to have momentarily regressed into the old Theo, who had always skulked around Hogwarts looking sullen and frightened.

"Well, it's just that I'm really busy right now," Theodore said, somewhat evasively. "I have my N.E.W.T.s to study for, and a test coming up in Ancient Runes, and our Quidditch match is next week. Can't we do it some other time?"

"I know you're busy, Theo," Lupin said pleasantly, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Theodore's face, while the boy kept trying to avoid his gaze. "But surely you can pull yourself away from your studies for just an hour or two. And I'm sure that Lady Selima misses you and would like to see you."

"I don't want to go!" Theodore shouted, then flushed as everyone stared at him in shock. "I mean, um, now is just not a good time," he added lamely in a much quieter voice.

"What's wrong, Theo?" Lupin asked gently. "Why don't you want to go to Snape Manor?"

"Nothing's wrong," Theodore insisted in a defensive voice. "I'm just busy, that's all." But his eyes flickered towards Snape for just a second.

Lupin noticed. "All right," he said. "Why don't the two of you head back to the dorm, then?" Lupin smiled at Theo wryly. "Since you have so much studying to do."

Theodore hastily left the room, and Dylan followed, looking confused and worried. Unbeknownst to Lupin and Snape, Theodore lingered behind, hovering nervously outside the Potions Master's door. 

"Theo?" Dylan asked. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Theodore replied. "Go on, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

But Dylan remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. "All right, Theo, what's going on? Why don't you want to go to Snape Manor, and why did Lupin just kick us out?"

"Shh!" Theodore hissed. "They'll hear us!"

"I'm not leaving until you do," Dylan whispered, stubbornly refusing to move. Theodore couldn't argue with him without raising his voice and attracting their guardians' attention, so the two boys remained outside the door together, trying to hear Lupin's and Snape's conversation.

Meanwhile, Lupin was saying to Snape, "What's going on, Severus? Theodore had a wonderful time at Snape Manor during the holidays, so why he is suddenly so reluctant to go back?"

"I have no idea, Lupin," Snape replied coolly, shifting his gaze to a point on the wall behind Lupin, so that he wouldn't have to look the werewolf in the eye. "Maybe it's the stress of the N.E.W.T.s. Students frequently become short-tempered or agitated during their seventh year."

"That's the first rule of Legilimency, isn't it, Severus?" Lupin asked softly. "Eye contact is usually necessary to read a person's thoughts. I'm not a Legilimens, but I think you have something to hide, Severus. Something to do with your fight with Selima the night before we left, perhaps?" His pale blue eyes bored into Snape's black ones, with a gaze that was nearly as intense, keen, and merciless as the Dark Lord's, and Snape flinched in spite of himself. "Was Theodore involved in this quarrel of yours?"

"No!" Snape protested, but a look of guilt filled his eyes. "He wasn't even in the room at the time," Snape continued, but suddenly sounded uncertain of that.

"Well, something happened to upset him," Lupin pointed out. "Maybe he wasn't in the room, but could he have overheard your argument?"

"I don't know," Snape mumbled. "I didn't think so."

"What was the argument about, Severus?" Lupin persisted.

"It's none of your business, Lupin!" Snape snapped.

"It was none of my business when it only affected you and your mother," Lupin said in a level voice. "But when it affects Theodore, it _is_ my business. Now what happened?"

"Nothing," Snape insisted, looking guiltier by the minute. "Just a stupid fight with my mother over nothing."

"Then why is Theo so upset?" Lupin asked suspiciously. "The fight wasn't about Theo, was it?" The look on Snape's face told him that was exactly what it had been about. "Severus!" Lupin cried. "What happened? Why were you arguing with Selima? She hasn't changed her mind about Theo and Blaise, has she?"

Snape shook his head curtly. "I said it was nothing!"

"Theodore doesn't think it's 'nothing'!" Lupin said angrily. 

"I'll straighten it out, Lupin," Snape said. "I didn't realize that Theodore might have been listening to us."

"He loves both of you, Severus," Lupin said. "It's got to upset him to see the two of you at odds with each other. I know I can't force you to forgive your mother, but you have to at least--"

"You're right!" Snape interrupted. "You can't force me to forgive my mother, and don't tell me that I 'have to' do anything! This is between Lady Selima and me, so stay out of it, Lupin!"

"No, I will not stay out of it, because it's not just between you and Selima anymore!" Lupin retorted. "How long are you going to carry that hatred around inside you? You don't have to like your mother, but when you decided to go back to the Snape family and adopt Theodore, you knew that you would have to make peace with her!"

"I will carry it around as long as I damn well please, Lupin!" Snape shouted. "And it was you who pushed me to go back to my family, it was you and your Gryffindor idealism that wanted a fairy tale happy ending! Well, this isn't a fairy tale, Lupin! You have no idea what I went through as a child, not really! You had a nice cozy little family, with parents who loved you even though you were a werewolf. Your father never cast a Cruciatus Curse on you, and your mother never stood by and watched while he did it! Your parents never abandoned you when they thought you were about to be convicted and sent to Azkaban! So you have no right to tell me that I have to make peace with my mother!"

The door suddenly swung open, and Theodore suddenly burst into the room, screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!" Lupin and Snape turned, startled, to see Theo standing in front of them, looking wild-eyed and close to tears. Dylan followed behind him, looking pale and worried.

"I don't want to be the Snape heir anymore!" Theodore shouted, and Snape went white, feeling as if his heart had stopped. "I told you before that I didn't care about the inheritance, that all I wanted was to be your son!" Theodore continued. "So please, let's just forget about the Snape estate--let Lady Selima run it and worry about who the heir will be. Can't we just go back to the way things were before, when it was just the four of us? I don't want to go back to Snape Manor, I don't want the Snape inheritance, so please, please stop fighting with Remus, Father!"

Snape let out a shaky sigh of relief and his heart started beating again; he had thought for a minute that Theodore no longer wanted to be his son. Then he sobered as he realized that he had really made a mess of things this time. Lupin put up with all of Snape's fits of temper, petty insults, and bitterness--which wasn't really fair to Lupin, Snape had to admit, but at least Lupin understood that Snape's anger wasn't really directed at him--most of the time, anyway, and that Snape still loved him even when it was. 

But Theodore was an emotionally fragile child, who had grown up in a family where he and his mother had lived in fear of Thaddeus Nott's rages. He wasn't used to friendly arguments, or not-so-friendly ones that eventually blew over. Snape thought of all the times that he had scornfully accused Black of being immature and told him to grow up; he should have taken his own advice. He was suddenly painfully aware that he had been behaving more like someone Theodore's age than like a grown man with two sons to look after.

"Theo, oh Theo, shh, it's all right," Lupin said gently, looking very guilty as he wrapped his arms around the near-hysterical boy. "I'm so sorry, Theo; we didn't mean to upset you. We didn't know you were listening."

"You also overheard me fighting with my mother the night before we came back to Hogwarts, didn't you?" Snape asked quietly.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," Theodore said, still looking distraught as Lupin tried to calm him. "But you were angry and I didn't know why. I'm sorry, Father, if I've done something wrong. I didn't mean to, I swear! I won't spend any more time with Lady Selima if you don't want me to, I won't go back to Snape Manor at all if that's what you want. Just please don't fight with Remus because of me. I don't want to lose either of you, please..."

Lupin held the boy as he began to weep. He and Snape stared at each other over Theodore's shoulder, both looking equally guilty and concerned. "I think we need to talk," Snape finally said.

"Come," Lupin said gently, "why don't we sit on the couch, have some tea, and talk things over?"

A few minutes later, they were all seated on the couch, sipping cups of hot tea. Theodore's eyes were dry now, but still a little red, and he still looked anxious and unhappy. Snape didn't seem to know where to start, so Lupin went first. "I'm sorry that you overheard us fighting, Theo," he said. "We both lost our tempers and things got a little out of hand."

"You weren't just fighting," Theodore said miserably. "You were fighting over me! I can't stand the thought of being the cause of you two..." His voice trailed off.

"Breaking up?" Lupin finished. "Oh Theo, I promise you that will never happen!" He smiled tenderly at Theodore and brushed a lock of hair back from his face. "I let Severus leave me once, when I was too young to know better, and I promised him that I would never let that happen again! If I had to, I would follow him around, send him Howlers, and camp outside his door until he took me back!"

"Werewolves are very persistent," Snape said with a wry smile.

But Theodore did not look reassured, and Lupin said in a gentle voice, "Theo, even two people who love each other very much will fight from time to time; it's only human nature. Don't you ever quarrel with your friends sometimes?"

"I guess," Theodore said uncertainly, then remembered how he and Blaise had argued during the Yule Ball, and before last year's Ball as well. He also remembered how he and Draco had fought during Draco's first visit to the cottage during the summer.

"But you forgave them, and they forgave you," Lupin said. Theodore nodded, but still didn't look quite convinced. Trying a different approach, Lupin asked, "Didn't you and your mother fight sometimes, Dylan?"

"Not really," Dylan replied, and Lupin heaved a sigh. Well, perhaps that was a bad example, he told himself. Ariane and Dylan had been unnaturally close, perhaps to a slightly unhealthy degree. Ariane, having lost her lover, had lavished all her affection on her son, doting on him and spoiling him a little, while Dylan had worshipped his beautiful young mother. He had grown up in exile for thirteen years, having little contact with anyone but the Donners, and completely trusting no one but his mother. They had been co-conspirators, secretly plotting to take revenge for Evan's death, and it was not surprising that all Dylan's anger had been reserved for the people he had considered responsible for his father's death and his mother's exile.

Suddenly realizing that he was not being very helpful, Dylan hastily added, "But my mother said that she fought with my father a lot when she was younger." He grinned rakishly. "She said that sometimes a good argument was fuel for passion." Lupin gave Snape a knowing grin; the Potions Master flushed, and Theodore relaxed just a little. "And Hermione and I fight sometimes," Dylan continued. "Well, not so much now, but we used to when I still had to pretend that I wanted to be a Death Eater."

"Secrets aren't very good for a relationship," Lupin said softly, and Snape flushed again, with guilt this time, and Theodore ducked his head, letting his dark hair fall across his face. Lupin smiled at them both, then placed his hand beneath Theodore's chin and tipped his face up until their eyes met. "Severus and I have very different personalities, and we're bound to clash sometimes," Lupin told him. "But just because we get angry at each other, it doesn't mean that we don't love each other, and it certainly doesn't mean that we'll break up. I will never leave Severus, and I will never leave you or Dylan. The three of you are my family, and I love you more than anything else in the world." 

Theodore turned hesitantly towards Snape, and Lupin gave him an expectant look. Snape cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I won't leave the werewolf. Where else would I find someone willing to put up with me?" Lupin chuckled, Dylan laughed, more from release of tension than anything else, and Theodore smiled tentatively. "Lupin does lose his temper from time to time, Theodore," Snape said in a slightly more serious voice, "and when he does, it's usually justified." Snape sighed. "And I must admit, it's usually my fault."

"Then you're not mad at Remus or me?" Theodore asked hesitantly.

"No, Theodore," Snape replied, looking very weary. 

"But you told Lady Selima..."

Snape sighed again. "I wasn't angry with you, Theodore."

"But you were angry at Lady Selima because of me," Theodore persisted.

"I was estranged from my family for years," Snape said. "The argument that night...that was more about me and my mother than you. Things are...complicated...between us." He could see that wasn't going to be enough to reassure Theodore, but he didn't think that saying he was jealous of his own son was going to make things better. Lupin gave him a loving, encouraging smile, and Snape took a deep breath, then spoke. 

"I resented my mother for not protecting me from my father, much as you did Marta," Snape explained, choosing his words with care. "I was glad that Lady Selima seemed to be treating you well, but..." Snape hesitated, then continued, "But it made me wonder why she couldn't have treated me that way when I was a child." Snape hastened to assure his son, "But I was angry with my mother, not with you." Saying the word "love" still made him a little uncomfortable, but he knew that Theodore needed to hear it, so he said, "I love you, Theodore. Adopting you as my son was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life, and I will never regret it." Theodore's face filled with love and relief, and Snape managed a real smile. "It was well worth returning home for," he said, and meant it.

"But you don't have to!" Theodore said earnestly. "I meant what I said; I don't care about the inheritance as long as I'm your son! If...if you don't want to be part of the Snape family anymore, then neither do I!"

Theodore had just chosen Snape over Selima, and it hadn't escaped Snape's notice that he had gone back to calling her "Lady Selima" instead of "Grandmother". He wondered why that didn't make him happier. He glanced over at Lupin, waiting to see what his lover would say.

Lupin stared at him thoughtfully for a very long time, then finally reached out and laid his hand over Snape's. "I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said, very gently. "You're right, I grew up in a loving family, and I can't really know what your childhood was like. Up here, perhaps, but not here." He tapped his head and then his heart with his free hand. "And you're right that I'm an idealist and that I want a happy ending. But it wasn't just for the sake of a fairy tale ending. Your family hurt you when you were a child, and I thought returning home would help you to heal. But maybe I was wrong." 

Lupin hesitated, then continued in a quiet voice, "I believe that Selima regrets what she did in the past, even if she hasn't actually said so. And I believe that she's trying to change. But some wounds run too deep to be healed, and some things cannot be forgiven. I was wrong to push you, Severus. I remember when you still could not forgive Sirius, that I told you that you must take things at your own pace, that no one could force you to change the way you feel. But I wanted so badly for us all to be a family that I rushed things, and I'm sorry. Only you can decide what is right for you, Severus. When--or if--we return to Snape Manor is up to you, and I will abide by whatever you decide."

Snape was touched by Lupin's apology, ashamed of starting the fight that had provoked it, and a little irked that Lupin was throwing the whole mess back in his lap. He was used to the werewolf badgering him into doing what was right even when he didn't want to. And he knew that cutting ties to his mother at this point would be wrong, although the childish, cowardly part of him would like nothing better. 

He knew that, despite his words, Theodore still cared about Selima, and even more importantly, he would have forced his son to choose between two people that he cared about--much as he had tried to do to Lupin. But Lupin was stronger than Theodore, and Snape knew that if he did this, Theodore would never really believe that his father's love was unconditional, and it would poison their relationship. Even if things went back to normal on the surface, Theodore would never really feel secure or happy again. He didn't want his son to grow up the way he had: needy and bitter, never really believing that anyone loved him. And maybe somewhere deep inside, a small part of Snape was reluctant to irrevocably estrange himself from his mother, even if he didn't really want to forgive her. But that thought made him uneasy, and he quickly shunted it aside, telling himself that he was doing this for Theodore's sake.

"No," Snape said, "I overreacted. Lady Selima and I declared a truce, but we are both of us stubborn, and tempers flare from time to time. This was a brief skirmish, if you will, but not enough to break the truce and start a war." Theodore looked cautiously relieved, but still a little uncertain. "I can't promise that I won't fight with my mother again," Snape said. "Most likely I will. But it will be about us, not you. I promise that no argument with my mother will ever make me disown you. Whatever happens between Lady Selima and myself, you will always be my son, Theodore." Suddenly mindful of the possibility of sibling rivalry, Snape added, "You and Dylan will always be my sons." Dylan smiled at him warmly, not looking the least bit jealous, but then, Dylan was used to being loved. 

"Then should we go over for tea this weekend?" Lupin asked, much more diffidently than he usually did. Snape sighed; he didn't really want to go. This whole long discussion had drained him, and besides, he was a little embarrassed about facing his mother again after what had happened. On the other hand, if he didn't go, Theodore might take it the wrong way.

Seeing his hesitation, Lupin suggested a compromise. "Well, we are quite busy this week," he said casually. "Why don't we invite Lady Selima to the match next week? Perhaps we could have some tea or lunch together after the game, and then we could go to Snape Manor some time when we're less busy, perhaps in the following week or two?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Snape said, although he felt a bit cowardly about postponing the visit. The boys nodded in agreement.

All the arguing and explaining had taken a great deal of time, and it was now past dinnertime. Rather than go to dinner late, Lupin had some food sent up from the kitchen, and they spent the evening together, playing chess and talking quietly of trivial things until it was time for bed. Theodore seemed much calmer, though he was still looking a little fragile, and Snape suspected it would take some time for him to completely heal. The Potions Master silently cursed himself, and resolved never to be so careless and selfish again.

"What will we tell everyone, when they ask why we didn't come to dinner tonight?" Dylan asked, thinking like a practical Slytherin.

Snape thought for a moment, then said, "Just tell them that we had some Snape family business to discuss. That's true enough, and anything else is none of their business."

The boys smiled and said goodnight, and Lupin hugged them before they left. Still feeling like he needed to make things up to Theodore, Snape gave both of the boys a quick, awkward hug as well, and they looked very surprised but pleased. Then they went back to the dorm, and Snape felt oddly disappointed. He had an irrational urge to check up on them during the night to make sure they were sleeping well and tuck them into bed, as he had done sometimes at Grimmauld Place and Snape Manor. Lupin smiled at him, as if he could guess what Snape was thinking, and kissed him tenderly. They went to bed, and despite his worries and guilt, Snape slept soundly, wrapped in his lover's comforting embrace.

*** 

The next day, Selima received a letter which read:

*** 

Dear Lady Selima,

I regret that we will be unable to come to tea this Saturday. The boys are very busy with tests and extra Quidditch practice, as Slytherin has a match against Ravenclaw coming up next weekend. Severus and I also have a full schedule. We do hope that you will be able to attend the match; I am sure that Theodore would like to have you cheering him on.

Perhaps we can pay you a visit in a couple of weeks when things are less hectic, if that is convenient for you, of course.

Sincerely,   
Remus J. Lupin

*** 

Selima folded it up and sighed. The letter was very politely yet evasively worded--the werewolf was almost starting to sound like a Slytherin. Reading between the lines, she interpreted it to mean that Severus was still angry at her, but that Lupin was attempting to smooth things over. Well, at least Severus wasn't angry enough to prevent her from coming to the Quidditch match--or the werewolf was simply more stubborn than Severus. Which was saying a great deal, actually, but she didn't doubt that he was more than a match for her son. It was a little disturbing, and yet almost comforting at the same time.

Severus had been angry enough that it wasn't worth insisting on the visit. Selima sensed that it hadn't been one of Severus's normal outbursts, that he really had been on the verge of leaving the family once again--perhaps for good this time. She knew by now that money and power gave her no leverage over him; the only things that kept him from leaving were his lover's Gryffindor sentimentality and the need to give his son an inheritance. 

Selima felt a sudden surge of fear--the Snape family was on the verge of falling apart, and she stood to lose not just the Lord and heir, but her son and grandson. Finally--and ironically, since it might be too late--she had come to value them for themselves and not just as a means to continue the Snape line and uphold the family honor. Perhaps this was some sort of divine retribution for the way she had treated her son as a child. Her husband had inflicted a Cruciatus Curse on their son, not just once, but intermittently over the years, and she had failed to protect him. She wondered now why it had come as such a surprise to them that Severus had felt no loyalty to his family.

She took a deep breath and told herself not to panic. Severus, as angry as he was, had agreed to abide by the truce, and the letter seemed to indicate that Lupin was prepared to enforce it. But she decided to be careful from now on, to avoid driving Severus even further away. Perhaps it would be prudent to distance herself a little from Theodore. But might that not hurt Theodore? There was a certain vulnerability, an eagerness to please, beneath his outward Slytherin mask of composure. But it might be better for him to resent her a little than to lose him entirely.

Selima sighed again. No sense borrowing trouble and possibly fretting over nothing. She would wait till the Quidditch match, and reassess the situation; perhaps Severus would have calmed down by then. She rang for Vorcher and told him to prepare some tea for her, hoping that would calm her nerves.

*** 

Lukas Bleddri was also having a bad week. The trial had originally been scheduled for the previous week, but Morrigan had asked the Ministry to postpone it. A continuance had been granted, but they were both sure that it had not been an accident that the opening date of the trial had been slated for the exact day of the full moon. Lukas knew that he had enemies at the Ministry--some of them probably just hated werewolves in general, and others might be personal friends of Amos.

On one hand, asking that the opening date be moved was probably giving his opponent ammunition to use against him by drawing attention to the fact that he was incapacitated once every month. But Lukas had decided that it would be even worse to go to court feeling tired, sore, and short-tempered. The Wolfsbane Potion mitigated the first two somewhat, but did nothing for the last; the emotions of a werewolf always ran high near the full moon. Amos and his lawyer were bound to say something stupid and inflammatory, and it probably wouldn't help Lukas's case any if he bit one of them--or even just snarled at them a little.

So Lukas showed up at court the week after the full moon, still feeling grumpy but much more in control of his emotions. He wore, as Selima had suggested, the green and gold robes she had given him, along with his father's torc. The courtroom did nothing to inspire confidence in him; it reminded him of the dungeon at Hogwarts, rough stone walls lit by torches--only even more gloomy and less welcoming. There were no windows in the room, and the wolf inside him didn't like being enclosed underground in a place that seemed more like a prison than a courtroom.

"They're just trying to intimidate you," Morrigan whispered. "Don't let it bother it you--or at least, don't let them see that it does."

Lukas nodded curtly. It would take more than a dark room to intimidate the pack leader of the werewolves; he had faced down the Death Eaters, after all, while most of these pampered pureblood wizards had cowered in fear in the safety of their homes. He held his head up high, and strode into the courtroom as if he owned it; Morrigan smiled in approval. He heard startled gasps and whispers as he entered the room and moved into the light.

"Good Lord!"

"It's like seeing a ghost!"

"He looks just like Cynric!"

A witch with short gray hair and a monocle pounded a gavel on the desk in front of her. "Order in the court!" she shouted in a crisp, stern voice. She sat in the center of the first row of benches in the balcony at the front of the room, next to the Minister of the Magic. All of the court members wore plum-colored robes with an elaborate silver "W" embroidered across the left side of the chest. There seemed to be about fifty of them, so Morrigan must have been right about the full Wizengamot being called to oversee the case.

"That's Amelia Bones," Morrigan whispered to Lukas.

The proceedings were open to the public, and besides the benches for the Wizengamot in the balcony, there were also benches along the sides of the room that were filled with curiosity seekers and reporters. Lukas recognized Rita Skeeter with her jeweled spectacles, furiously scribbling notes with an acid-green quill. He didn't really like the woman, but her articles had been responsible for the public's sudden change of attitude towards the werewolves, so he supposed he should be grateful to her. He just hoped that she didn't suddenly decide to switch sides.

Two sets of tables and chairs had been set out in the middle of the room for himself and Morrigan, and for Amos and his lawyer, Lamont Whitby. Whitby was a Hufflepuff alumni and the uncle of the current Hufflepuff Chaser, Kevin Whitby--which created a certain degree of tension in Lukas's classes at times. His students mostly liked him, but they also felt the need to be loyal to their House and to their families. And if Kevin looked a little uncomfortable at times, Tristan was downright miserable. 

In front of the tables was a chair whose arms were covered with chains. Lukas raised his eyebrows slightly and Morrigan quietly explained, "In a criminal case, the defendant is bound to the chair. But this is a civil case, so the chains won't be used."

"How reassuring," Lukas said sarcastically.

Morrigan was about to say something else, but the crowd subsided, and Madam Bones called court into session. She was presiding over the case, as Morrigan had predicted. Percy Weasley was serving as court scribe, looking very earnest and determined. A number of Ministry officials and wizards from old and powerful families (and a few who had power in their own right) made up the rest of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore was not among them, but in one of the upper rows, Lukas spotted a wizard with a long gray beard. Mathias Donner smiled and inclined his head slightly, and Lukas felt a little better, knowing that he had at least one supporter--along with Arthur Weasley--in the group.

Reading from a sheet of parchment in front of her, Madam Bones said, "Plaintiff Cyril Diggory challenges Amos Diggory for ownership and control of the Diggory estate--"

"Objection!" Whitby cried. "We have not yet established that the plaintiff is indeed Cyril Diggory. That is what he claims, but he has been going by the name Lukas Bleddri, and that is the name under which he was hired to teach at Hogwarts."

"Then the first order of business should be to establish Master Bleddri's identity," Bones said calmly. "Or Master Diggory, as the case might be."

"If it please the court, I have a number of witnesses who are prepared to identify the plaintiff as Cyril Diggory," Morrigan said.

"Then call them forth," Bones ordered.

The first witness was Gwendolyn Ames-Diggory, who took a seat in the chain-covered chair. She gave the chains a nervous look, but spoke in a clear and steady voice when Morrigan questioned her, firmly declaring that Lukas was her nephew.

"But you haven't seen your nephew for twenty-five years," Whitby said skeptically. "How can you be sure this is really him?"

"I would know my own flesh and blood anywhere!" Gwendolyn insisted. "He is my nephew Cyril. And besides, he knew details about our lives that a stranger would not--that my childhood nickname was Gwennie, and that I used to make him call me 'aunt' even though he was a year older than me."

"But those are hardly state secrets," Whitby said. "Surely a few other people were aware of those details."

"Just my family," Gwendolyn said.

"And perhaps a few friends?" Whitby suggested. "Are you sure that you never discussed such things with some of your playmates?"

"Well...just a few," Gwendolyn admitted.

"Who might in turn have spoken of it to a few friends of their own--in which case, it would hardly be a secret," Whitby said. Gwendolyn glared at him, and Madam Bones dismissed her. She passed by her brother, neither of them looking at each other, and took a seat in the audience.

The second witness was Selima Snape. "Lady Snape," Morrigan said, "did you immediately recognize the plaintiff as Cyril Diggory when you first saw him in person?"

"I did," Selima replied firmly. "He is the spitting image of his father, who was a good friend of mine."

Morrigan stepped back and let Lamont Whitby cross-examine Selima. "Lady Snape," he said in a condescending tone, "when was the last time you saw Cyril Diggory? Prior to his miraculous resurrection, I mean."

Without batting an eye, Selima replied, "The last time I saw him was when he was ten years old, when I went to visit his parents at their residence."

"And yet you can recognize him, more than a quarter of a century later?" Whitby asked sarcastically.

"Indeed I can," Selima replied coldly. "You see, Cyril resembles his father very strongly, except for his eyes. Cynric's were brown, while Cyril's were an odd shade of yellowish-green--the exact same shade as Master Bleddri's eyes. Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I will ask the questions, Lady Snape!" Whitby snapped. "It could indeed be a coincidence, or Master Bleddri could have altered his appearance with magic."

"He could have," Selima replied calmly, "but there is the matter of the torc."

"The torc?" Whitby asked, startled.

"If I might see it?" Selima asked.

"I don't see the point of this," Whitby complained.

"The torc was a gift from Anya Diggory to her husband," Selima said.

"Let her examine the torc," Bones declared.

Lukas reluctantly slipped the torc off his neck and handed it to Whitby, who gave it to Selima. "Yes, I recognize this," she said. "Anya designed it herself and had it commissioned as a wedding gift for her new husband. The double-headed snake design is quite distinctive; it was meant to symbolize a union between two Slytherins."

"You saw and handled the torc personally, Lady Snape?" Bones asked.

"Yes," Selima replied. "Anya showed it to me when it was done, before she gave it to Cynric. I also saw Cynric wear it on numerous occasions."

"And you are certain that this is the same torc?" Bones asked.

"Absolutely certain," Selima said.

Bones nodded, looking satisfied. "Have you any further questions for Lady Snape, Mr. Whitby?" she asked.

"Just one," he said, giving Selima a spiteful look. "Master Bleddri is a friend of your son's werewolf lover." The audience gasped. Everyone knew it was true, of course, but such things were rarely discussed openly in public. "Perhaps you are supporting Master Bleddri's claim as a favor to your son."

Selima gave him a look that could have frozen water, if any had been present in the room. "I am well aware that my son's personal life has become a scandal in the wizarding world, and it would hardly be in my family's best interest to draw more attention to it. I am supporting Master _Diggory's_ claim because he is the rightful Lord of the Diggory family--nothing more, nothing less."

Looking very annoyed, Whitby dismissed Selima, who returned the torc to Lukas on her way out. Morrigan smiled, looking very pleased. "I knew I wouldn't have to question her too closely, that Whitby would do my work for me," she whispered to Lukas.

"Give him enough rope to hang himself with?" Lukas asked with an amused smile.

The next witness was Albus Dumbledore. "You met the plaintiff when he was calling himself Lukas Bleddri, is that correct?" Morrigan asked.

"That is the name he was calling himself by, yes," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly.

"But you did not think that was his real name?"

"No, I did not," Dumbledore replied. "Lukas--or Cyril, if you prefer--bears a most uncanny resemblance to his father."

"And you knew Cynric Diggory well?"

"I taught him Transfiguration at Hogwarts for seven years."

"But you did not tell the plaintiff that you recognized him--at least, not right away."

"He clearly did not want to be known as a Diggory," Dumbledore explained. "And as I did not know him very well at the time, I did not think that he would care to discuss his personal life with a stranger. But I knew that a Diggory would be attending Hogwarts this school year, and I knew that if Lukas taught there, he would eventually come into contact with his family again. I hoped that he might make peace with them, or at least come to some sort of resolution about whatever had caused him to become estranged from them."

"So you hired the plaintiff precisely because he was Cynric Diggory's son!" Morrigan said triumphantly.

"Well that, and the fact that I believed he would make a good teacher," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.

"You assumed Master Bleddri was Cynric Diggory's son simply because he looks like him," Whitby said, when it was his turn to question the witness, immediately going on the offensive. "But he could have disguised himself with a spell or a Polyjuice Potion! After all--you've been fooled before, haven't you, Professor Dumbledore? You thought for nearly a year that Barty Crouch, Junior was Alastor Moody!"

"That is correct," Dumbledore said, not looking perturbed in the slightest. "But there is an easy way of finding out whether or not Master Bleddri is disguising himself with magic. This chair detects any sort of magic or enchantment on anyone who sits in it."

Lukas gave Morrigan a startled look. "Sorry," she apologized. "I tried to tell you, but I didn't get a chance."

"Then let the plaintiff come forth and be questioned," Bones said. "Please remove any wands or other magical devices from your person beforehand."

Lukas gave Morrigan his wand and started forward, then suddenly remembered that he had another magical item on him, and paused to remove one of his earrings. "We haven't got all day!" Whitby said impatiently. Lukas repressed the urge to growl at him, and settled for giving him an icy look, trying to imitate Lady Selima's cold stare. It must have worked, because the lawyer fell silent and nervously backed off a few paces. Lukas gingerly took a seat in the chair, and the chains rustled slightly, making a soft clinking noise, but did not reach up to bind him. 

Madam Bones uttered a curt command word, but nothing happened. Even the chains lay quiescent. "It seems that the plaintiff is not using any sort of magic to disguise himself," she said. "Master Bleddri, are you indeed Cyril Diggory, son of Cynric Diggory?"

"I am," he replied.

"May I ask why you chose to call yourself by a different name for so many years?" Bones asked.

"I believed that my life was in danger," Lukas replied. 

Whitby started to object, but Bones motioned for him to be silent. "You will have an opportunity to question the plaintiff on that point later, Mr. Whitby. For now, all I am interested in is hearing his explanation for his alias."

"I believed that my life was in danger," Lukas repeated, "so I changed my name, to make it harder for my relatives to find me. 'Lukas' is my middle name--I wanted to keep part of the name that my parents gave me. And I chose 'Bleddri' for my surname because it means 'leader of outlaws' or 'king of wolves' in Welsh." He smiled bitterly. "Just a touch of private humor. I didn't think that most people would know what it meant."

"Anya Diggory was Welsh," Bones said in a musing tone.

"Yes, she was," Lukas quickly agreed. "I don't speak it fluently, but she taught me some of the language. I had little to do but study, since I was confined to the house as a child. And I did live in Wales for three years--after my alleged death."

"I think we have enough evidence to decide on the plaintiff's identity," Bones said. "All those in favor of acknowledging Lukas Bleddri as Cyril Diggory?" Arthur Weasley immediately raised his hand, as did Mathias Donner and Madam Bones herself. Others began raising their hands, a little more slowly and hesitantly, but eventually a little more than half of the Wizengamot members raised their hands. "All those against?" Bones asked, but it was a mere formality. "Very well," Bones said. "The plaintiff shall henceforth be known as Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory, son of Cynric and Anya Diggory."

Lukas felt a sudden sense of joy and satisfaction. The trial was far from over, but if nothing else, he had the name his father and mother had given him back. He was Cynric Diggory's son, and the wizarding world had just acknowledged it.

"Then court shall adjourn, and we shall reconvene...when, Mr. Weasley?" Bones turned and looked expectantly at Percy Weasley.

Percy shuffled through some papers and announced, "Next Wednesday at 10 am."

"Next Wednesday at 10 am," Bones repeated and rapped her gavel on the desk again. The Wizengamot and audience members began filing out of the courtroom.

Lukas rose from his seat and walked over to join Morrigan. "That's it?" he asked. "All that happened today was that they agreed I was who I say I am. If we only meet once a week, it could take months to resolve this!"

"I'm afraid that's the general idea," Morrigan told him dryly.

Lamont Whitby overheard them and sneered at Lukas. "Clearly you have no idea how things work in the wizarding world," he said scornfully. "The court has other cases to tend to besides yours, Bleddri."

"That's 'Master Diggory' to you, Lamont," Morrigan retorted. She gave Lukas his wand and earring back, and whispered, "Come, I'll explain it to you on the way out."

"Do you have a statement, Master Diggory?" Rita Skeeter asked as they passed by her.

Lukas opened his mouth to say "no," but Morrigan said smoothly, "Of course we are very pleased that the Wizengamot has acknowledged my client's true identity as the son of Cynric Diggory, the late Diggory heir. We are confident that the court will eventually restore his rightful inheritance to him."

"Very confident," Lukas said, following her lead. Then he blinked as a flashbulb went off in his face, as a photographer from the Daily Prophet took his picture. Morrigan took him by the arm and quickly steered him out of the courtroom.

"I hate reporters," Lukas growled softly.

"Yes, but it doesn't do any good to antagonize the media," Morrigan said practically. "Besides, Skeeter wrote favorable articles about you and the other werewolves. How did you manage to get her to do that?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Lukas replied. "Harry Potter and his friends seem to have some influence over her."

"How intriguing," Morrigan laughed.

"About the case..."

"Oh yes," Morrigan said. "If this were a more urgent case, for example, the trial of an alleged Death Eater, court would convene every day until a verdict was reached. But this is merely a civil case, a contested inheritance, so they don't feel the urge to move as quickly. Amos Diggory's allies are deliberately dragging things out, I think. I did tell the powers that be that we would like to resolve this as soon as possible, but Lamont was spouting some sort of rubbish about how it would adversely affect Amos's duties at the Ministry, not to mention disrupt your classes if you both had to miss work every day for what could be weeks."

Lukas snorted. "Amos and his lawyer don't give a damn about whether I'm inconvenienced or not."

"That's why I said it's rubbish," Morrigan said. "But I think it's a good sign; it means that they're scared of us, and that means we have a good chance of winning. So cheer up, Lukas--or should I say Cyril? It really was a major victory for us today, you know. By acknowledging that you are Cyril Diggory, they are also acknowledging that you are Cynric Diggory's son and heir. The oldest son has legal precedence as heir, so technically, the law is on our side, and Lamont and Amos will have to prove that you are unfit to take the title."

"It might not be that difficult," Lukas said, "considering that I am a werewolf."

"I am up for the challenge if you are," Morrigan said with a confident smile. 

"Well, you've already proven that you can outsmart my uncle's lawyer," Lukas laughed, "so I will put my trust in you."

"Well, I'm heading back to the office," Morrigan said. "Are you going back to the school?"

"Dumbledore gave me the day off," Lukas said. "I think I'll take a walk and collect my thoughts before I go back."

"Good day, then, Master Diggory."

"Good day, Ms. De Lacy."

*** 

Narcissa Malfoy had gone shopping in Diagon Alley. She didn't like the way people stared at her and whispered behind her back when she went out in public, but she was tired of sitting around the house all day. She could have gone to visit Aileen Pierce, but it wasn't fair to impose on her friend every day. Besides, she told herself, she wanted to buy a new dress to wear to Draco's Quidditch match next week. It was pure coincidence that she happened to stroll near Ministry Headquarters after she was done shopping on the day of Lukas Bleddri's trial. At least, that was what she told herself.

She lingered near the Ministry, wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled over her head to disguise herself, because she didn't want people staring and pointing at the woman who had killed her Death Eater husband. And also because she didn't want Lukas Bleddri to think that she had come to see him--because she hadn't. In fact, she was just about to move on when people started trickling out of the Ministry building in twos and threes--court must have just let out. 

So she lingered a little longer, and saw Bleddri come out and walk down the street, talking and laughing with a very pretty, elegant woman with reddish-blonde hair. She felt a sudden, sharp stab of jealousy, then saw the woman's face and realized that she was Bleddri's lawyer, Morrigan De Lacy. Then Narcissa got quite angry with herself; what did it matter to her if the werewolf had a girlfriend or not? She quickly turned and walked away, her face turning red beneath the hood of her cloak. 

She was not paying attention to where she was going, and accidentally bumped into a man who snapped, "Watch where you're going!" Keeping her head down, Narcissa muttered an apology and hurried away. She paused in front of a bakery about a block later, pretending to peruse the pastries in the window while she tried to regain her composure.

"Narcissa?" a startled voice said, and Lukas Bleddri's reflection suddenly appeared in the shop window. She turned around to find the werewolf standing behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping," Narcissa said coolly, holding up a bag from Madam Malkin's, as if offering proof that her words were true. "And you?"

"I just came from court," Bleddri said with a wry smile, as if he knew that she knew perfectly well what he was doing here.

"Ah yes," Narcissa said. "And how is the trial going?"

Bleddri shrugged. "Well enough."

And with that, they ran out of polite things to say to each other, and stood there in awkward silence. It was early afternoon, when many people had just finished lunch and were hurrying back to work, and one pedestrian who seemed to be in an especial hurry jostled Bleddri. He automatically moved forward, which brought him closer to Narcissa, mere inches away from her. Even though he wasn't touching her, she could feel his presence, an almost tangible aura that made her breath quicken and her face flush--actually, her entire body felt warm. She seemed to be having the same effect on Bleddri, judging by his ragged breathing and the feral, hungry look in his yellow-green eyes. It made him look more like a wolf than ever, which was frightening, and yet strangely exciting at the same time.

Conflicting emotions flickered across his face, as he seemed to be going through some sort of internal struggle, then abruptly, he seemed to reach a decision and leaned even closer to Narcissa. She shrank back a little as he whispered in her ear, "Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes."

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine, but Narcissa hissed, "We can't be seen in public together!" She hastily pulled her hood down over her face a little more securely. "And certainly not going into a room at an inn together!"

"We won't go in together," Bleddri growled. "I'll go first, and rent a room upstairs; you follow a little later. Even if someone sees us, no one needs to know that it's you." He tugged gently on the hood of her cloak. "Keep your face covered, or use a glamor to disguise yourself--you are a witch, after all."

"This is insane!" Narcissa protested.

"Of course it is," Bleddri said calmly. "Meet me there, or not--it's your decision." Then he turned and walked down the street without another word. 

_What an arrogant, insufferable man!_ Narcissa fumed to herself. Of course she wouldn't go; it would be madness to indulge in a fling with a werewolf!

Yet, somehow she found herself entering the Leaky Cauldron fifteen minutes later, quietly slipping through the dining room and up the stairs, her face covered with the hood and a small glamor cast to disguise her features for good measure. Just as she was wondering how she was supposed to know which room he was in, one of the doors opened and Bleddri leaned out and beckoned to her.

As the door closed behind her, Narcissa dispelled the glamor and asked, "How could you be sure it was me?"

The werewolf rolled his eyes in a most annoying fashion. "I didn't think there would be that many women in black cloaks roaming the hall at our appointed meeting time. Besides, the perfume you wear is very distinctive."

Of course; a werewolf would have a keen nose. Narcissa pushed her hood back and looked around. In one corner of the room there was a bed; she quickly blushed and looked away, spotting a table laid out with food and wine.

Bleddri followed her gaze and shrugged. "I didn't want to say I was meeting a woman, so I told them I wanted to have a meal in a private room." He smiled sardonically. "A Lord shouldn't eat with the riffraff in the common room, right? Besides, I figured that if you stood me up, I could at least have lunch." He moved closer to Narcissa, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "Are you hungry?"

"Not for food," she heard herself say, and the werewolf pulled her into his arms and sealed his mouth over hers, and neither of them said anything--at least, not anything coherent--for quite some time.

It was the best sex she had ever had in her life, and her late husband had been no slouch in that department, either. Lucius was arrogant and self-centered, like most pureblood Lords, but he was a proud man, and he prided himself on having a reputation as a good lover, so he had always made sure to give her pleasure in bed. She had certainly never had any reason to complain about his performance, but the difference between the two men was like night and day. Bleddri might have lacked some of Lucius's finesse, but there was a raw passion, an urgency to his lovemaking that was unlike Lucius's more polished but methodical and almost calculated technique.

"Lovemaking" was probably the wrong term for what they were doing; it was simply sex, the two of them driven by some primal need, coupling like two animals in heat. Bleddri's hands weren't smooth and soft like Lucius's, but rough and slightly calloused (from physical labor, presumably), like the pads of a dog's--or wolf's--paws. It should have disgusted her, but it excited her instead. Her skin suddenly felt incredibly sensitive, and the sensation of his roughened hands running along it evoked an exquisite sensation that was like pleasure bordering on pain.

She locked her legs around his waist as he thrust into her, hard and fast, with no gentleness, but she didn't want any. He growled softly into her ear--like a wolf, like an animal. She raked her nails down his back, and he thrust into her even harder as she frantically raised her hips to meet each thrust, and then she screamed his name out loud as waves of pleasure washed over her body. He threw back his head and howled--dear God, like a wolf!--as he came, and a small part of her was horrified, but the rest of her was too caught up in her own pleasure to care.

The rolled apart and lay next to each other, panting and gasping for breath. Bleddri flung one arm out carelessly across her body, as if by accident. After a few minutes, Narcissa caught her breath and returned to her senses, and pushed Bleddri's arm away.

"This is insane!" she said.

"Yes," Bleddri agreed, but he didn't sound very upset about it; he looked lazy and sated, like an animal that had just devoured a large meal.

That mental analogy made Narcissa blush, and his reaction irritated her. "Why aren't you more upset about it, then?" she demanded. "You hate me and I hate you, so what in Merlin's name are we doing?"

"I have no idea," Bleddri said, stretching languidly and unselfconsciously, looking more like a cat at the moment than a wolf, the image enhanced by his golden mane of hair, which was falling loose across his face and shoulders. Narcissa could not help but notice that his body was lean but strong, the muscles rippling beneath the skin as he moved, and that there were no scars on his skin, just the scratches she had made on his back. She had clawed him hard enough to draw blood, but the weals were already fading to thin, pink lines--the werewolf's healing powers in action. Bleddri caught her watching him and smiled, looking amused and just a little smug. Narcissa flushed angrily, then climbed out of bed and began to get dressed.

Bleddri remained stretched out on the bed, watching her. She turned her back to him to avoid that amused gaze. "I am used to following my instincts, even when they don't make sense at the time," Bleddri said, and it took Narcissa a moment to realize that he was answering the question she had just asked.

"Like a beast," Narcissa said curtly.

"Like a wolf," Bleddri agreed. "But you are not a beast, so what is your excuse, Narcissa?"

Narcissa's face turned red again. "I plead temporary insanity," she snapped. "You can be sure that it won't happen again!"

"Of course not," Bleddri agreed pleasantly. Narcissa finished dressing, grabbed her shopping bag, and threw on her cloak, pulling the hood down over her face. As she turned to leave, the werewolf called out, "I'll be in court again next Wednesday. I'll reserve this same room." 

Narcissa turned back to glare at him. "I hope you're capable of entertaining yourself, werewolf, because I won't be here."

"Well, just in case you happen to be in the neighborhood," Lukas said casually.

Narcissa stalked out of the room, and as she slammed the door behind her, she thought she heard the werewolf laughing.

*** 

"This really is insane," Lukas told himself, but his inner wolf didn't seem to care. It was the wolf who had wanted Narcissa, who had insisted that it must have her _now_ , overriding the man's common sense. It was the wolf who had been certain that Narcissa would come to meet him, despite her protestations. And now that the wolf had gotten what it wanted, it was feeling very sated and happy.

Lukas had to admit that the sex had been better than any he'd had since...well, a long time. The scratches on his back still stung a little, and he grinned; who would've expected a cold, proper pureblood lady like Narcissa Malfoy to be such a little spitfire in bed? He wondered if she'd ever clawed Lucius Malfoy's back, but rather doubted it; people like Malfoy were usually better at giving pain than receiving it. Maybe the thrill of the forbidden, of bedding a werewolf, had brought out the beast in Narcissa.

"She's just slumming," he told himself scornfully. He wondered what was wrong with himself, that he would want to bed a jaded pureblood woman who despised him. Maybe the forbidden appealed to him, too. "It's just sex," he tried to reassure himself. "A purely physical attraction." No doubt the thrill would eventually wear off, along with the novelty. In the meantime, he supposed he might as well enjoy it. And he did enjoy annoying Narcissa, almost as much as he did the sex; she was so easy to bait. 

Still, it was a complication that he didn't really need right now. The wolf had become an intrinsic part of him, and he had grown accustomed to following its instincts without question. There were times, though, when the wolf's instincts were inconvenient, to say the least. "I hope you're happy," Lukas muttered sourly, but the wolf just growled contentedly in response.

*** 

"Hello, Lukas," Lupin said cheerfully when Lukas returned to school. "Albus said that the trial seems to be going well."

"I suppose so," Lukas said, a little doubtfully. "It took the Wizengamot half the day to decide that I really am Cyril Diggory."

"That's a major step," Snape informed him. "For them to admit that you are Cynric Diggory's son is halfway to admitting that you are the rightful head of the Diggory family."

"That's what Morrigan said," Lukas conceded. "I suppose I should thank you, Severus. Your mother was very helpful today--she made Amos's lawyer look like a fool."

Snape looked uncomfortable--not simply annoyed at his mother, as he often was, but almost guilty. "No need to thank me," he mumbled. "My mother did it on her own; she is the one you should thank."

Lupin smiled at Snape, looking affectionate, but a little concerned at the same time. There must be something complicated going on within the Snape family, but Lukas decided that he didn't really want to know about it--he had enough problems of his own, after all, including one named Narcissa Malfoy.

"You'll call on us when you need us to testify?" Lupin asked.

Lukas nodded. "Yes, I'll have to talk to Morrigan about what she has planned. I'll try to let you know in advance so you can reschedule your classes, but it won't be for at least another week. It seems that they're trying to drag out this trial as long as possible."

"Interesting," Snape mused. "Amos must be afraid of losing, which is rather surprising, since most of the purebloods would tend to side with him against a werewolf."

"But the law says that werewolves have equal rights under the law--a law recently passed by the new Minister of Magic," Lupin argued. "If they want to rule that Lukas is unfit to inherit the title, then they'll have to find another excuse besides his lycanthropy to do it."

"So perhaps they're using the time to try and dig up some dirt on me," Lukas said with a bitter smile.

"Yes, but it's a double-edged sword," Snape pointed out. "It also gives you time to build up support in the wizarding world. You do have powerful friends and allies--the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore--and it wouldn't hurt to remind people of that."

"Not to mention the Snape family," Lupin said with a smile. Snape just grunted, looking a little embarrassed. "And Sirius and Branwen support your claim as well."

Lukas nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose you're right. I suspect that I'll also be getting a good deal of publicity, although I'm not sure whether it will be helpful or not. Rita Skeeter was at the trial today; I hope she hasn't changed her attitude towards werewolves."

"Oh, I don't think so," Lupin said cheerfully. "She hasn't written anything truly slanderous for over a year, so Hermione must still be blackmailing her."

"I still wonder what she has over Skeeter," Snape muttered to himself.

Lukas shrugged. "Whatever it is, I'm grateful for it. She could sell just as many, if not more, papers writing articles about how the public needs to be protected from bloodthirsty werewolves. Well, I'll see the two of you at dinner, then. I should get caught up on my lesson plans for tomorrow."

"By the way, Lukas," Lupin said casually, "Albus came back two hours ago; I thought you'd be back soon after that. Were you consulting with Morrigan?"

"Dumbledore said I could have the entire day off," Lukas said defensively.

"Oh, of course," Lupin said in a placating voice. "I was just curious. I know you were concerned about missing classes while the trial was taking place, even though Albus said to take as much time off as you need."

Lukas flushed a little. "I had lunch and took some time to calm down. It's bad enough being grilled by a lawyer in front of the Wizengamot, not to mention the general public, but they make you sit in this chair that has chains on it, like you're a criminal--"

Snape looked up, startled. "Chains? They used Courtroom Ten? That's the same place the original Death Eater trials were held! Unusual, for a civil case..."

"I didn't know that," Lukas said, "but I'm not surprised. Morrigan said it was an intimidation tactic. Anyway, I do need to work on those lesson plans. See you later."

*** 

"Hmm," Lupin said, watching curiously as the other werewolf hastily departed. "Lukas seemed a bit flustered."

"He's going through a nasty trial where his own uncle is trying to portray him as a beast that's unfit to run the family estate," Snape said. "It might be more surprising if he wasn't flustered."

"Maybe," Lupin said, not sounding convinced. "But I think there's more to it than that. He usually gets angry when he talks about Amos, not flustered."

"Weren't you the one who told me not to meddle in Bleddri's life, Lupin?" Snape asked sarcastically.

Lupin grinned sheepishly. "I guess you're right, Severus."

"Besides," Snape continued, "I would have thought that you'd more than have your hands full meddling in my life, and the boys', and my mother's..."

"You're right, Sev," Lupin chuckled good-naturedly. Then he leaned over and whispered in a throaty voice, "And I can think of something else I would like to have my hands full of right now..."

"The full moon's over, Lupin," Snape said, flushing, but he quickly followed the werewolf back to their quarters without further objection.

*** 

The school was filled with excitement over the upcoming Quidditch match, but soon that excitement changed into something more fearful and ominous. On Monday of the week of the match, Harry received a letter at breakfast, one of the flying origami crane notes that Professor Chizuru had taught them to make last year. When he unfolded the piece of paper, he saw that it was a crude drawing of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. Below the drawing, in letters that seemed to have been cut out from a newspaper and pasted together, was the message "Beware, Potter: the Dark Lord will be avenged!"

Harry gasped, dropping the paper as if it contained a live snake instead of a drawing, and it burst into flames. There was nothing left but ashes by the time the teachers came down from the head table to investigate. They all turned pale when Harry explained what the note had said.

"It must be a Slytherin!" Jack immediately said. "Who else would want to avenge You-Know-Who?"

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione scoffed. "Why would the Slytherins want to avenge Voldemort after he tried to kill them?"

"But who else would send a note like this to Harry?" Dean objected. "It must have come from within the school; the charm isn't strong enough for it to have traveled farther."

"Someone's obviously trying to make the Slytherins look bad, you moron," Dylan snapped, coming over from the Slytherin table. 

"Who are you calling a moron?!" Dean demanded, glaring at him.

"Mr. Rosier, Mr. Thomas, that's enough!" McGonagall said sharply.

"Look at it logically," Dylan said in a cool but level voice. "Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent, Brad, Serafina, Damien, Theo, and I all fought against the Death Eaters during the final battle. If the Dark Lord were still alive, he'd regard us as traitors, and we'd be running from him instead of trying to avenge him." 

"You were there, Dean!" Lavender argued. "You saw Pansy and Millicent help us defend the field hospital from the Death Eaters!"

Dean began to look a little unsure of himself. "But maybe some of the others..."

"The Death Eaters killed my mother," Dylan said coldly. "They tried to kill Serafina, and Draco and Theo, too. I don't think that the Dark Lord intended to induct us into the Death Eaters that night. I think he brought us there to use as sacrifices in case he needed more power." Dylan smiled bitterly. "We were his reserve supply. We have no reason to feel any loyalty to the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters."

Some students nodded thoughtfully, but others still looked suspicious, and muttered that many of the Death Eaters had pretended to switch sides after the first war ended.

"SILENCE!" shouted Dumbledore, and all the muttering instantly ceased; the students weren't used to the kindly Headmaster raising his voice. His gaze swept around the Great Hall, and he spoke in a quiet voice that somehow still seemed to carry to every corner of the room. "I am very disappointed in you--not just the perpetrator of this cruel and thoughtless prank, but in those of you who are so quick to believe in malicious gossip and unfounded rumors. We stood together and supported each other during the final days of the war. Will you let an anonymous prankster who does not have the courage to openly voice his or her convictions do what even Voldemort could not--divide this school and destroy our unity?" The gossiping students flushed and hung their heads, looking ashamed of themselves. 

"What shall we do about the note, Albus?" McGonagall asked softly.

The old wizard sighed wearily. "I'm not sure what we can do, Minerva. We can't even examine it, to try and track down the sender, since it destroyed itself."

"Be careful, Potter," Snape said grimly. "Report any further threats or pranks, no matter how seemingly insignificant or harmless, to one of us immediately. And it would be prudent not to go anywhere alone--that means no roaming the halls or sneaking out of the castle after hours; is that clear, Potter?"

Snape looked more worried than angry, so Harry just nodded meekly, ignoring the Potions Master's high-handed words and tone of voice. Besides, he was still a bit shaken by the note. Surely it was a prank; surely it could not really be from a Death Eater--right? 

Blackmore laid a hand on his shoulder and said in a quiet voice, "Be careful, Harry." She looked as worried as Snape, which didn't do anything to help ease his fears.

"You won't tell Sirius, will you?" Harry pleaded with her. "I don't want him to worry."

Blackmore smiled at him tenderly. "Of course I must tell him, Harry; he would be angry, and rightly so, if I didn't. It is a parent's prerogative to worry about his or her child." She kissed him on the cheek and returned to the head table with the other teachers. Harry felt bad about worrying Sirius, but at the same time, it made him feel good to hear her call Sirius his "parent".

*** 

After breakfast, Dumbledore called an emergency meeting in the staff room before classes started.

"I'm not sure this can still be considered a 'harmless prank,'" Snape said sourly. "It's stirring up animosity against my Slytherins, and if this keeps up, the students might move beyond angry words and insults to hexes or physical violence." He grimaced, remembering the tense and hostile atmosphere in the school last year. "I haven't forgotten that someone tried to push Theodore down a flight of stairs last year."

Lupin frowned. "We went from direct attacks against Slytherin students to a threatening note against Harry, a Gryffindor hero. Since the direct attacks failed, do you think that the perpetrator is trying a more indirect approach?"

"We can't take it for granted that the threat against Mr. Potter is a bluff or ruse," McGonagall objected. "It might truly be from someone who has a grudge against him." Snape bristled, and McGonagall added, "And I'm not accusing one of your students, Severus. Even if this is a roundabout way to stir up resentment against the Slytherins, we have to consider the possibility that the writer of the note might resort to violence against Mr. Potter to make their case even stronger."

"But what can we do?" Flitwick asked helplessly. "We don't know who is behind these pranks, or even if the same person is responsible for all of them."

"That's the problem," Lukas growled. "We've been totally ineffective at apprehending these so-called pranksters, so there's no incentive for them to stop. And I think Snape is right. I don't think that we can call these incidents 'pranks' anymore; they've taken on a decidedly nasty tone with this current threat. I think it's very possible that this could escalate into violence, whether against Mr. Potter or the Slytherins, I can't say for sure, but most likely the Slytherins." He smiled bitterly. "It's always easier to attack outcasts than heroes. My pack lived in fear of vigilante attacks at times, particularly during the years that Umbridge was pushing her anti-werewolf legislation."

"It's a bit of a stretch to call the Slytherins 'outcasts,'" McGonagall said. "Most of their families still have wealth and influence, but I do take your point, Master Bleddri--excuse me, I mean, Master Diggory." Lukas was now going by his real name, although with a certain amount of discomfort. But Morrigan wanted people to become accustomed to thinking of him as a Diggory, and besides, there was no point in wasting his court victory.

"How many people would mourn, and how many would gloat if the son or daughter of a Death Eater should be hurt or even killed?" Snape asked harshly. "How closely would any of the Aurors, save for Tonks and Shacklebolt, investigate such a crime?"

"Arthur wouldn't let them cover up something like that," Lupin argued, but he looked deeply disturbed.

"If it were up to me, I would question every student in the school under Truth Potion," Snape said fiercely.

"Unfortunately, the law does not permit that, Severus," Dumbledore said.

"The law didn't have any problem with overlooking the rights of suspected Death Eaters sixteen or seventeen years ago," Snape muttered. "But Merlin forbid we trample on the rights of the precious little brats."

"If we don't know which child is the culprit, perhaps we should punish them all," Lukas suggested. "That's how I used to keep my pack in line when the younger wolves got up to mischief. The others would resent it when they suffered because of one troublemaker, and work together to keep him or her in line."

"Amazing, how similar that sounds to Molly Weasley's parenting techniques!" Lupin said with a mischievous smile, his worry temporarily abating. "She could never tell which twin was Fred and which was George, so she always used to punish them both when they misbehaved; they were usually in on it together, anyway."

Lukas glared at the other werewolf, looking offended at being compared to Molly Weasley, and Snape snorted in derision. "Her parenting techniques weren't particularly effective. The twins couldn't stay out of trouble for longer than five minutes at a time. You can't believe how happy I was to see them drop out of school two years ago!"

"They turned out well enough," Lupin said in the twins' defense. "They are running a successful business now, after all."

"Your idea has some merit," Branwen told Lukas, but Sprout protested, "It seems a bit extreme to punish the entire school for the actions of one--or at most, a few--wrongdoers! We don't even know what House they're in!" Some of the other teachers nodded in agreement.

"What sort of punishment did you have in mind?" Branwen asked curiously, ignoring the objections. Bane, sitting on his usual perch on her shoulder, perked up eagerly at the word "punishment".

Lukas shrugged and made a vague motion with his hand. "Oh, curtail their privileges, I suppose. Enforce a curfew, suspend the trips to Hogsmeade, cancel the Quidditch matches--"

"CANCEL THE QUIDDITCH MATCHES?!" most of the teachers cried in horror, Flitwick among them, which was not surprising, since Ravenclaw was playing on Saturday. "My players have been practicing hard for this match!" he protested. "It's not fair to take that opportunity away from them!"

Once, Snape would have been as outraged as the rest of them, particularly since Slytherin had a decent chance of winning the Cup this year. But he still remembered the terror and despair he had felt when he had seen Dylan falling through the sky at Slytherin's last match, and he remained silent, a brooding expression on his face.

"Maybe it would be safer to cancel the match, considering what happened before?" Satoshi asked in a quiet voice, looking much more serious than was his wont.

"Great tragedy shall befall someone at the coming match," Trelawney predicted ominously, and Flitwick and Snape glared at her.

"The threat was against Harry," Flitwick pointed out, "and Gryffindor isn't playing this weekend."

"No, but Slytherin is, and it was a Slytherin who was the target of the hex during the first game," Branwen reminded them gravely.

"Nothing happened at the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match," Lukas said, frowning. "The previous attacks seemed to be directed mainly at Slytherin, and this current threat is against Mr. Potter, a Gryffindor."

Everyone turned to look at Snape. "Well, I'd hate to cancel the match, of course," Flitwick said with a mournful expression on his face. "But of course the students' safety comes first. I think it will be all right if we take the proper precautions, but that's easy for me to say, as none of my Ravenclaws have been threatened. If you really feel that your players might be in danger, Severus, then I won't object to canceling the game. It's your call."

As Snape hesitated, Lukas said thoughtfully, "Perhaps we could use this as an opportunity to try and catch our mysterious note-writer. If this is actually an attack on Slytherin, as Snape seems to think, then he or she might try to pull something at the match, and we can be on the lookout for it."

"Are you suggesting using my students as bait?" Snape asked angrily.

"Yes," Lukas said bluntly, meeting Snape's gaze without flinching. "It's a calculated risk, yes, but isn't it more dangerous to let the so-called prankster continue to go free? What if the next 'prank' is something more serious than a threatening note? I'm not suggesting throwing your students to the wolves, if you'll pardon the pun, Severus. We'll check the players' equipment for hexes, and patrol the stands..."

"The prankster will be suspicious if the teachers are patrolling the stands instead of watching the game," Satoshi objected. "If he knows he's being watched, he might back off." The tanuki smiled. "Speaking from the viewpoint of someone who has, er, run afoul of the law before--although it was all a big misunderstanding, of course."

"Of course," Snape said dryly.

Branwen petted her familiar and said, "Bane could fly over the Pitch and report to me if he sees anything suspicious."

"And I could shapeshift and watch from below," Satoshi offered. "No one will notice a cat or a rat prowling below the stands, and even if they do, they'll assume it's just a familiar that wandered away from its owner."

"You just said that the students will notice if the teachers aren't watching the game," Snape reminded him.

Satoshi grinned. "I'll leave an illusion of myself in the teachers' stand so no one will notice that I'm gone."

"Sirius can keep an eye on things in the Gryffindor section," Lupin said. "No one will think it unusual for him to come watch the game with his godson. And I could ask Tonks to help. She's a Metamorphmagus, so she could change her face and wander through the different sections of the stands without drawing attention to herself."

"All right," Snape said reluctantly. "But I want us to be better prepared this time." He paused to think. "Broomsticks in the teachers' stand, so that we can immediately go to a student's aid if something happens."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good thinking, Severus. I'll see to it."

"And a plan," Snape continued, "so that we don't stand there stunned, or run around like chickens with our heads cut off." More than a few of the teachers flushed at Snape's sharp, sarcastic tone, remembering that they hadn't been very helpful during the first incident.

"I'll have a levitation spell ready," Lupin said fervently.

"I'll have my medical kit with me, and be prepared for injuries," Pomfrey added.

"I'll keep a couple of Thestrals on hand," Hagrid said, "ter transport any badly injured students ter the castle quickly."

"Ah...good," Snape said, looking surprised to hear a practical suggestion from Hagrid. "If a player should be attacked during the game, I will fly out to help them, along with Madam Hooch and..." He hesitated. "How are you on a broomstick, Bleddri?"

Lukas shrugged. "I can ride one without falling off, but I'm no Quidditch player. I was confined to the house for most of my childhood." Most of the other teachers were middle-aged or older, and had not ridden a broom in years. 

"It's a young person's sport," Vector said ruefully. "And a broomstick isn't very comfortable, even with a Cushioning Charm."

"I'm a little rusty," Branwen said, "but I can manage, I think."

"I still fly regularly," Sinistra said. "I like to get as close to the stars as I can."

"Then Branwen, Madam Hooch, Professor Sinistra, and I shall attempt to render aid from the air," Snape said, "while the rest of you do what you can from the ground. It might be easier to cast a levitation spell from below than from above, anyway."

"A good plan, Severus," Dumbledore said approvingly. "Very well, then. Let us hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst."

Snape was glad of the Headmaster's support, but he wished that Dumbledore hadn't phrased it quite that way. He didn't want to contemplate what "the worst" might be; the thought of something happening to his sons made him go cold with fear, and he was tempted to call off the match right then and there. He remembered Lupin telling him how Molly Weasley had encountered a boggart while cleaning Black's house, and how it taken the forms of the corpses of her children. Although he had never really liked Molly, he felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her; he wondered if every parent's worst fear was the death of their children. 

Not every parent, he reminded himself cynically. Thaddeus Nott and Lucius Malfoy had been willing to let their sons die to save their own skins, and Andreas Avery had tried to kill his daughter when she defied him and turned against the Death Eaters. And Snape's own father had always been more concerned about his family's reputation than his son's welfare. Severin's worst fear had probably been that the Snape line would die out, disgraced by its last living heir--at least until Snape finally returned home and adopted Theodore. He suddenly wondered what Selima's worst fear was, but wasn't sure that he really wanted to know the answer.

*** 

Lukas went to court on Wednesday, and it was, in his opinion, a complete waste of time. It was what Morrigan called the "character witness" phase of the trial: Lamont Whitby called on friends and coworkers who testified as to what a fine, upstanding citizen Amos Diggory was. Helen Diggory took the stand to talk about what a proud and loving father Amos had been, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Then Morrigan called witnesses of her own, members of the Order who testified as to how Lukas and his werewolves had provided vital help during the final battle against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. She didn't call on Lupin and Snape, not wanting Lamont to distract the Wizengamot by bringing up insinuations about their relationship, but Dumbledore, Tonks, and Shacklebolt all testified as to how the werewolves had risked their lives during the battle. Dumbledore also talked about what a good teacher Lukas was, and how much his students enjoyed his classes. 

Sirius Black also testified as to Lukas's heroism in the final battle, and his role as a peacetime leader to the werewolves who volunteered his time at the charity clinic in Diagon Alley and made sure that the werewolves availed themselves of the services offered by Werewolf Support--including the Wolfsbane Potion that kept them sane and safe during the full moon. 

And finally, Selima Snape testified again, talking not about Lukas, but about his father Cynric, reminiscing about how handsome and charming he had been, and how much he had loved his wife and son, sadly expressing regret that both his life and his promising career at the Ministry had been cut short. Some of the Wizengamot members nodded sympathetically; Cynric had been well-liked, and many of them remembered him fondly.

Morrigan claimed that the day had been a success, that they had reminded the Wizengamot of the fact that Lukas's father had been the rightful heir to the Diggory title, and that Lukas himself was a war hero. Lukas wasn't sure that was enough to outweigh his lycanthropy, but he hoped she was right. And maybe the day wasn't a waste of time after all, because Narcissa Malfoy showed up to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron, and they had another bout of incredible sex, even better than the last time. Narcissa departed much as she had before, in haste, looking angry and confused--but she did agree to meet him again next week. Lukas wondered how something so wrong could feel so right.

*** 

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at school was tense, as everyone waited for another note to arrive or another "prank" to be played, but when nothing had happened by Friday, the students--although not the teachers--began to relax a little. The only thing out of the ordinary that happened was that Neville misplaced his wand--and that wasn't really enough out of the ordinary to cause his housemates to become concerned.

"What are you doing, Neville?" Allegra asked curiously as she watched the older boy peer under the couch in the Gryffindor common room. "Are you looking for Trevor?"

"No, my wand," he replied in a hushed voice. "I can't remember where I left it."

"I don't think you would have left it under the couch," Allegra said helpfully.

Neville sighed and looked up. "No, but it could have rolled under there if I dropped it without realizing it."

"When's the last time you remember seeing it?" Allegra asked. 

"During Transfiguration class," Neville replied. He sighed again. "We were practicing Vanishing Spells, but I'm afraid I didn't get mine completely right." He lifted his pet toad out of his pocket. "I was supposed to make Trevor vanish, but I couldn't quite do it. And he still looks a bit transparent in spots, even after I reversed the spell."

"I'm sure it will wear off," Allegra assured him. "Did you check the Transfiguration classroom, then?"

Neville shook his head. "By the time I realized it was missing, McGonagall had already left and locked up the room."

"Well, I'm sure if you ask her, she'll let you back in to look for your wand."

"I don't want to do that," Neville said unhappily. "I'm always getting scolded for being so forgetful. I really got in trouble in third year, when I left the password to the common room lying around, and Sirius Black found it."

"Yes, but Sirius wasn't a murderer after all, so everything turned out all right," Allegra said brightly.

"I can tell that she's already worried I won't pass my N.E.W.T.," Neville said. "I don't want her to think I'm a complete moron."

"But if the wand is in the classroom, there's no point looking for it somewhere else," Allegra said practically.

"Well, I don't know for sure that it's there," Neville said. "I'll look everywhere else first. If I still can't find it, then I'll ask McGonagall to let me in the room."

"I'll help you look for it," Allegra volunteered.

"We'll help, too," Emma said, and Chloe and Portia nodded.

Neville smiled at them gratefully. "Thanks, that would be a big help."

"So where did you go after Transfiguration?" Allegra asked. "Let's retrace your steps."

"Let's see...I had Herbology after that; we didn't need to use our wands for that class. Then I went to the library to study, and came back to the dorm. I was just thinking that I should practice that Vanishing Spell some more, and that's when I noticed my wand was gone."

"Okay, so we should check the library and the greenhouse," Allegra said. "Dinner starts in half an hour, so maybe we should split up." Neville, Allegra, and Portia went to check the library, while Chloe and Emma searched the greenhouse, but they still had not found it by dinnertime. The students were not allowed out of the castle at night, so after dinner, they went back to search the library further, and then checked the corridors between the library and the dorm until Filch came by and scolded them for loitering. So they went back to Gryffindor Tower and searched the common room again. 

"What about your Remembrall?" Ron asked, when he saw them looking under tables and chairs.

"It only tells me that I've forgotten something," Neville said glumly. "It doesn't tell me where that something might be, or even what it is that I forgot."

Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione helped him search the dorm, but the wand was nowhere to be found. "Guess I'll have to talk to McGonagall after all," Neville groaned.

"It's too late now," Hermione said. "You'll have to ask her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's the Quidditch match," Neville said. "She'll be in a bad mood if I make her late for the game. I'll ask her afterwards, I guess."

"If you can't find your wand, I can get you a used one cheap from my dad's shop," Allegra said cheerfully.

Neville groaned, and Harry patted him sympathetically on the back. "Don't worry, it's bound to turn up. It can't have disappeared, after all."

"Maybe you made the wand vanish instead of Trevor!" Ron joked, and Hermione shot a glare at him as Neville groaned again, burying his head in his hands.

*** 

Saturday turned out to be a bright and sunny morning, a perfect day for a Quidditch match. The students forgot their fear, and were laughing and wagering on which team would win. Snape and Lupin helped Hooch check the players' equipment and robes for hexes before the match; the players wore no rosettes this time, as they had been banned due to the "accident" that had befallen Dylan at the first match. After determining that there were no hexes present, Snape and Lupin made their way up into the teacher's stand.

Satoshi slipped a small ceramic statue of a tanuki (similar to the ones often found outside bars and restaurants in Japan) out of his robes, and plunked it down on the bench beside him. He muttered a brief incantation, and the statue suddenly turned into a life-sized likeness of himself that was holding a blue-and-bronze Ravenclaw pennant in one hand and a green-and-silver Slytherin pennant in the other. Simultaneously, the real Satoshi shrank down into the form of a large rat, which scuttled under the bench and disappeared. The illusory Satoshi waved the blue pennant and said, "Go, Ravenclaw!"

"Pretty impressive illusion," Lupin said admiringly.

"It's an innate tanuki ability," Snape replied, a bit grumpily. "It doesn't require a great deal of effort on his part." Not that Satoshi was any rival for Lupin's affections, but Snape didn't really like Lupin admiring anyone but himself, just on principle. 

Lupin grinned at him widely. "I love it when you're jealous, Sev," he cooed into Snape's ear.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape growled, flushing a little.

"Don't look now, Snape," Lukas said, "but here comes your mother."

Snape repressed a groan as Selima approached, making her way up the stairs towards them. He did not feel angry so much as he felt incredibly awkward. He was embarrassed about having to face her after his outburst at Snape Manor, when he had exposed much more of his emotions than he had meant to. And he wasn't sure how he was supposed to mend things between them, although he knew that he needed to for Theodore's sake.

Selima was wearing Theodore's silver-and-amber combs in her hair, and Dylan's matching brooch pinned to her black robe. She was wearing a gold sash belted around her waist, and dangling from it on a silk cord was the ivory dragon netsuke Snape and Lupin had given her for Christmas. The small carving had been displayed in a case with some other figurines the last time Snape had seen it before leaving the Manor, so he was surprised to see Selima wearing it as an ornament, although that was its original purpose. He wondered if she meant it to be a peace offering.

Maybe so, because she looked uncharacteristically hesitant, and asked in a diffident tone, "May I join you, Severus, Professor Lupin? Or I could join the Parkinsons and the Baddocks in the Slytherin section, if it would not be appropriate for me to sit among the teachers."

Snape stared at her in shock; he was not used to seeing her behave in a deferential manner towards him. When she spoke to her son, she commanded, berated, and lectured, but never deferred. In fact, although she was good at flattering and manipulating her pureblood peers when necessary, he had never seen her sincerely defer to anyone but his father. Yet here she stood before him, head bowed respectfully, looking humble and a little anxious.

As a teenager, after Lucius had begun taking him to Voldemort's secret meetings but before he had actually been branded with the Dark Mark, Snape had sometimes dreamed of revenging himself on his parents. He had not wanted to kill them, the way Lorcan Foley had eventually tortured and killed his abusive father, but he had imagined them kneeling before him in fear and respect, perhaps begging his forgiveness for the way they had treated him as a child. But now Snape found that it gave him no pleasure to see his proud mother so humbled; in fact, he found it a little disturbing, although he wasn't exactly sure why.

Before their argument, Lupin would have cheerfully told Selima to have a seat without asking Snape's permission, but now he remained silent and waited for Snape to reply. That too seemed wrong, somehow, although Snape had often found the werewolf's presumption annoying in the past.

After a very long and awkward silence, Snape finally said in a voice that was polite though a trifle stiff, "Please have a seat, Mother."

Selima looked relieved for a moment, before her face assumed its usual expression of cool dignity, and took a seat on the bench beside him. Lupin squeezed Snape's arm in a quick, unobtrusive gesture, and smiled at him warmly.

"Go, Slytherin!" the illusion of Satoshi said, waving the Slytherin pennant it was holding.

Selima gave the illusion a puzzled look. "The game hasn't even started yet."

"Master Satoshi is just...er...very enthusiastic about the game," Lupin said. 

Selima frowned, peering at "Master Satoshi" more closely, who took no apparent notice of her. "That's an illusion, isn't it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not so impressive after all," Snape couldn't resist telling Lupin.

"It was only meant to fool the students from a distance," Lupin said with a smile.

"So where is the real Illusions teacher?" Selima asked. "And why does he feel the need to leave a replica of himself here? I didn't think that attending the Quidditch matches was mandatory."

Lupin hesitated, trying to decide how much to tell her. "He wanted to patrol the stands discreetly, without the students noticing."

Selima crossed her arms and glared at her son and Lupin. "Are you expecting trouble at this match, Severus?" she asked sharply. "Priscilla and Elaine told me about the threatening note the Potter boy received. And I haven't forgotten what happened at the first match. Is my grandson in any danger?"

Snape felt oddly relieved to see his mother behaving more like her normal, imperious self. It had just seemed so unnatural to see her looking almost cowed. Or maybe he had seen too many people's spirits broken during his tenure as a spy--both the Death Eaters' victims and the Death Eaters themselves. He had watched victims being tortured until they were willing to betray friends and family members in order to stop the pain. He had watched Voldemort turn the proud and arrogant Death Eaters into groveling slaves. So the thought of humiliating and humbling another person, even someone he resented, was no longer as appealing to him as it might once have been. Well, except perhaps for some of his more unruly students...

"Severus?" Selima said impatiently, and Snape quickly shook off his introspective mood.

"Yes, a threatening note was sent to Potter," Snape said briskly. "Possibly just a childish prank, but the staff is taking all due precautions. We examined the players and their equipment for hexes, and we will be watching the match very closely. Master Satoshi is patrolling the stands in disguise. Since he is able to shapeshift into animal form, he can easily observe the students without being noticed."

"Wouldn't it have been safer to cancel the game?" Selima asked.

"Not really," Snape replied. "I'm certain that the so-called prankster is a student, so he could attack at any time, not just during the match. But if something does happen during the match today, we have a much better chance of catching the culprit here, where we can observe the audience. I have not forgotten what happened the last time either, Mother, and I would not do anything to deliberately put my sons in danger."

Selima did not look completely convinced, but did not argue further, and a moment later, the two teams took the field and Madam Hooch started the game.

"Go, Ravenclaw!" said the illusion of Satoshi.

Both teams were playing with determination, but Slytherin seemed to have the edge over Ravenclaw. Unfortunately, Snape could not concentrate wholeheartedly on the match. He had brought a pair of binoculars with him, and was scanning the crowd in the stands while pretending to watch the game. He was concentrating particularly on those students who had lost family members to the Death Eaters, as well as those who were most vocal in being suspicious of the Slytherins, but none of them looked like they were trying to cast a hex, and their attention seemed to be focused on the game, the same as the rest of the students. 

He noticed that the Sloper brothers, Andrew Kirke, and Dean Thomas were waving Ravenclaw pennants--probably they were rooting against Slytherin more than they were actually rooting for Ravenclaw. Granger, Patil, and Brown, on the other hand, were openly waving Slytherin pennants, as was Allegra Zabini. Prospero, Marius, and Olivia Zabini were sitting with Allegra, although Marius looked as though he felt a little out of place in the Gryffindor stand. 

In the Hufflepuff section of the stands, Isabelle Laroque and Susan Bones were sitting together--it was interesting that two girls who had both lost uncles to the Death Eaters had formed a friendship, but they were not behaving suspiciously, and were laughing and cheering along with the other students. He did notice that they seemed to be cheering for Ravenclaw, but that wasn't really suspicious in and of itself. 

Tristan Ames-Diggory, however, who by all accounts was a Quidditch fanatic and took great pride in being Hufflepuff's Seeker, looked listless and unhappy, applauding halfheartedly when Ravenclaw managed to score a goal. The Diggory family feud was probably taking its toll on the boy; he hadn't talked back to Snape or quarreled with his Slytherin classmates in Potions class for weeks. Maybe that was cause for concern, but right now Snape needed to concentrate on ensuring the safety of his sons, and Tristan had his own Head of House to worry about him. At least it seemed that Tristan didn't have enough energy to be sending threatening notes or casting hexes.

Excited shouting jerked Snape's attention back to the game in time to see Dylan pass the Quaffle to Theodore, who got it past the Keeper and threw it through the Ravenclaw goal.

"Yes!" Lupin exclaimed.

"Go, Slytherin!" said Satoshi's illusion.

Snape smiled with satisfaction and turned his gaze towards the Ravenclaw stand; he still considered Stewart Ackerley to be the prime suspect in the Porvora attack on Aric. Ackerley didn't look as though he was going to cast a hex; he was waving a pennant and shouting encouragement to the Ravenclaw team, as were all his housemates. But Snape frowned when he saw who was sitting next to Ackerley...

*** 

Satoshi knew that Gryffindor and Slytherin were fierce rivals, and that there was a history of bad blood between the two Houses, so he decided to investigate the Gryffindors first. He scurried unseen beneath the stands, until he reached the Gryffindor section. His nose twitched with interest as he caught the scent of food. The students frequently brought snacks with them to the Quidditch matches, and someone had carelessly spilled some food that had fallen to the ground beneath the stands. There was a Bertie Bott's Bean--earwax, by the smell of it, which was perhaps why it had been dropped--and some popcorn, and a bit of chocolate...

Satoshi wrenched his attention away from the food and reminded himself that he was supposed to be on patrol. The problem with taking animal form was that you also took on some of the animal's instincts, and animals tended to be preoccupied with finding food. There was plenty of food in the kitchens at Hogwarts and he could go get a snack after the game, Satoshi told himself firmly. There was no need to go eating food off the ground, although the idea didn't disgust him as much as it would have most of his human colleagues, since he was part animal to begin with. He spent most of his time in human form, but he had hunted and scavenged food in his tanuki form, particularly when he had been hiding from a jealous husband or irate customer.

Above him, he heard the sound of voices being raised in excitement and anger, and he abandoned the food and moved closer to the sound, concentrating on what the voices were saying.

"Go, Ravenclaw!" Jack Sloper shouted. "Beat those snakes!"

"Some people are so immature!" Parvati Patil said in a huffy voice. "You don't even have any friends on the Ravenclaw team; you're only cheering for them because you hate Slytherin!"

"And you're a traitor!" Jack retorted. "Are you still going to cheer on your Slytherin boyfriend if they play Gryffindor in the finals? Are you going to root for those snakes over us?"

"It's not a crime to date someone from another House!" Parvati snapped. "Dean is dating a Hufflepuff, after all. Are you going to call him a traitor, too?"

"That's not the same thing!" Dean Thomas protested.

"Will you lot pipe down?" Ron Weasley complained. "I'm trying to concentrate on the game!"

"You're dating a Slytherin, too, Weasley," Jack said accusingly. 

"Are you calling me a traitor, Sloper?" Ron asked angrily.

"Here now, settle down," Sirius Black said sternly.

"You're not a teacher," Jack pointed out.

"No, but my wife is," Sirius said, in a voice that sounded almost as wicked and smugly satisfied as Snape's did when he was about to punish some hapless student. "And I'm sure that Professor Blackmore will be more than happy to hand out detention if she hears that some of her students were causing a disturbance during the game."

Even though Branwen was sitting across the field with the other teachers, that threat was enough to make the arguing students fall silent. Satoshi chuckled softly to himself, although in his current form, it came out as more of a squeak. Jack and his friends might be hostile towards the Slytherins, but it seemed unlikely that they would be able to carry out any mischief without being noticed, now that they had attracted so much attention to themselves. He decided to move on and investigate Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but as he turned around to leave, he found himself face to face with a large ginger cat.

Satoshi let out a startled squeak, and prepared to shapeshift, hoping that he could manage to change before the cat pounced. But the cat made no move to attack, and just cocked its head to one side and gave Satoshi a quizzical look.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione Granger called. "Crookshanks, where are you?"

"I'm sure he can take care of himself, Hermione," Harry Potter said in a voice that tried to be soothing but came out more impatient.

Crookshanks stared at Satoshi a moment longer, then jumped up and climbed back into the stands. "Ah, there you are!" Hermione exclaimed. Satoshi hurried on his way, but took the time to change from a rat into a cat, just in case he ran into any other stray familiars.

*** 

Meanwhile, Tonks was sitting in the Ravenclaw section of the stands, having taken the form of a nondescript, elderly gray-haired witch. She was sitting at the top, away from most of the other spectators, and if someone tried to talk to her, she pretended to be hard of hearing, cupping her ear and saying, "Eh, what's that, dearie?" Eventually, they gave up and left her alone, assuming that she was some great-aunt or second cousin several times removed to one of the players.

Sirius was already sitting in the Gryffindor section, and Severus had said that he was suspicious of Stewart Ackerley, so Tonks had decided to investigate Ravenclaw first. If she didn't spot anything suspicious, then she'd move on to Hufflepuff. She had met Stewart only a couple of times before, when he had stopped by the office to see his father, so it took her awhile to find him in the crowd, since she didn't want to be too obvious about looking for him. But eventually she found him, and her eyes widened in surprise--not because the boy was doing anything suspicious, but because of who was sitting with him. His mother sat beside him to the left, which was certainly normal enough, but to his right sat a scarlet-robed wizard with long brown hair in a ponytail, and an older, tough-looking man with short, wiry gray hair. They were two of Tonks's fellow Aurors: Ian Williamson and Richard Dawlish. 

She knew that they had been friends of Stewart's father, but she wondered what they were doing here--had they just come to visit with their friend's son, or were they also expecting trouble at the match? Dumbledore had not filed an official report about the threat to Harry with the Ministry, but with the way gossip traveled in the wizarding world, the two Aurors could easily have heard about it and decided to investigate unofficially, as Tonks herself was doing. Tonks should have felt reassured about having two colleagues on hand as backup in case something did happen, but instead she felt uneasy. 

The two men had been cronies of the late Cornelius Fudge, and weren't entirely pleased about the change in administration. They were also the Aurors who had trashed the Nott mansion while searching it during the summer, which had led to a furious Snape demanding an apology and compensation on Theodore's behalf. Arthur had forced them to write letters of apology, which had not endeared him any further to the Aurors. They were not actually bad men, but they were narrow-minded and had grown used to following Fudge's orders without thinking for themselves--a bad trait in an Auror, Tonks felt. 

They were too proud to admit that they--and Fudge--had been wrong, and had been carrying a chip on their shoulders ever since the war had ended. They resented their loss in status now that they were no longer the Minister's right-hand men, and they felt that the surviving Death Eaters and their families had gotten off too easy. If it had been up to them, the Death Eaters would all have been executed, and their children interrogated and possibly imprisoned. Part of it was due to grief and anger at losing two fellow Aurors, including Stewart's father, during the final battle, but Tonks was worried, because that grief and anger seemed to festering rather than healing with time. 

Williamson had been a housemate of hers at Hogwarts, a fellow Gryffindor a couple of years ahead of her. He had been a nice enough guy then--handsome and funny and charming, if a bit full of himself. But somewhere along the line, childish self-centeredness had turned into arrogance, and he had felt no regret about what he had done to the Nott mansion, including tearing apart Theodore's room out of what seemed like sheer spite. When she had confronted him about it, he had accused of her "going soft," and regarded her with suspicion because of her friendship with Remus and Severus.

As for Dawlish, he was the type who carried out his orders to the letter, without using any personal judgment--or any compassion. She recalled how he had been one of the Aurors who had struck McGonagall with a stunning spell when she had tried to stop them from attacking Hagrid during Harry's fifth year, when Umbridge had been running Hogwarts. McGonagall's injuries had been severe enough to send her to St. Mungo's, and Tonks could not forgive him for hurting her former Head of House and one of her favorite teachers. But even more importantly than that, it made her wonder--if Dawlish was willing to attack an upstanding citizen, a respected Hogwarts teacher in that manner, what might he do to a child that he suspected of being a Death Eater...?

Tonks tried to reassure herself that even Dawlish wouldn't act without orders, and that Arthur wouldn't let him get out of hand, but nevertheless, she did not reveal herself to her fellow Aurors, and remained in disguise, sitting quietly in the stands as she watched them carefully.

*** 

The game was going well for Slytherin; Ravenclaw was still regrouping after several key players had graduated last year, and the new members, while talented enough, were inexperienced and still learning to work together as a team. Slytherin was currently ahead by fifty points, and at the rate things were going, they might be able to get a big enough lead to win even if Ravenclaw did catch the Snitch, although Draco had no intention of letting that happen.

Theodore had the Quaffle and was racing towards the Ravenclaw goals, while Draco and the Ravenclaw Seeker were circling the Pitch, waiting impatiently for the Snitch to appear. They saw a raven soaring above them, and Draco gave it a puzzled look. "What is Bane doing out here?" he wondered aloud, then scowled and muttered, "He'd better not interfere with the game!" He had a sudden vision of the bird grabbing the Snitch, and wondered what Madam Hooch would do if that happened.

The Ravenclaw Seeker opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, off in the distance, a deep voice boomed, "MORSMORDRE!" and the image of a giant skull with a snake coming out of its mouth appeared in the sky. The skull and snake seemed to be made of a pale, sickly-looking, glowing green light, and Draco gasped and turned white.

Theodore halted in midair, paralyzed with fear, staring in horrified fascination at the glowing skull. All of the other players were similarly affected, so there was no one controlling the Bludgers, and Theodore never even saw the Ravenclaw Bludger race towards him and strike him in the back of the head. He heard a loud, cracking noise like bone shattering as his head exploded with pain, then suddenly everything went black. Theodore's unconscious body tumbled silently off his broomstick and fell towards the ground.

The players were still staring at the skull, and it took them precious seconds to notice that Theodore had fallen. Bane noticed, however, and plummeted straight down towards the boy in a steep dive, screeching loudly. He grabbed hold of Theodore's robes with his claws, but although Bane was huge, closer to an eagle in size than a raven, he was not big enough to support the weight of a nearly full-grown human body. If the situation were less serious, he might have looked almost comical, flapping his wings mightily in a vain attempt to keep himself and the boy aloft. 

The teachers and students snapped into action. Alerted by Bane's scream, Madam Hooch and most of the Slytherins took off after Theodore; the others went after the Bludgers, shouting at the Ravenclaw team to help them. Some of the Ravenclaws were still too stunned to react, but Michael Corner, one of the Chasers, slapped the Beater on the back of his head and said sharply, "Wake up and grab that Bludger before it hits someone else!" The Beater took off after the Bludger, and Michael joined the Slytherins in diving after Theodore and Bane.

In the teacher's stand, Snape stared at the glowing skull in horror and confusion. For one heart-stopping moment of terror, he thought that Voldemort had returned, then realized that there was something not quite right about the Dark Mark in the sky. But then the Bludger struck Theodore, and he had no time to think; he and Branwen and Sinistra grabbed their broomsticks and launched themselves into the air. Trelawney was waving her arms, shouting, "Doom! Death and doom!" Lukas ignored her, pulled out his wand, and jumped straight from the stands down to the Pitch, not bothering to waste time using the stairs. He cast a small levitation charm to slow his fall enough so that he didn't injure himself, and hit the ground running. Without hesitation, Lupin followed suit. The other teachers were not quite so bold, but they hurried down the stairs as fast as they could.

Although Bane was not strong enough to support Theodore's weight, he had managed to slow the boy's fall slightly. The raven kept his claws firmly clenched in Theodore's robes, but the weight of the boy's body was causing the cloth to strain and tear. Just as the robes finally gave way and ripped free from Bane's claws, Draco and Dylan reached them and frantically grabbed hold of whatever they could reach; Dylan managed to grab Theodore's arm, while Draco only got a handful of robes, but they managed to stop him from falling, at least for the moment. Madam Hooch, Michael, and Damien joined them a moment later, getting a more secure hold on Theodore, and then Snape, Branwen, and Sinistra arrived. The others helped ease Theodore very carefully onto Snape's broomstick, and Snape wrapped an arm around the boy's waist to keep him from falling, as he was still unconscious. Draco and Dylan rode alongside him, each reaching out with one hand to help keep Theodore steady as they slowly descended to the ground. Snape bit his lip, chafing at the slow pace, but he knew that moving too quickly might cause Theodore to fall, and that too much bouncing and jostling might worsen what looked to be a serious head injury.

Below them, Lupin and Lukas abandoned the levitation spells they had been preparing, and instead conjured up a stretcher, then hurried over to lift Theodore off Snape's broomstick as the trio landed on the Pitch. 

"Be careful!" Madam Pomfrey cried as they laid him down on the stretcher. "Try not to move his head too much." 

She knelt down to examine him, frowning worriedly, and Dylan asked anxiously, "He's going to be okay, isn't he?"

"Just as I suspected," Pomfrey said gravely, avoiding Dylan's question. "His skull is fractured." She took out her wand and cast a quick healing spell, then said, "That will stabilize him for now, but we need to get him to the hospital wing right away. Strap him into the stretcher securely; we don't want him bouncing around when we transport him."

Snape and Lupin hastened to obey, as Hagrid came up leading one loose Thestral and another harnessed to a small sledge. "He's not going to bounce around on that?" Snape asked dubiously.

"It'll be a quicker an' smoother ride than by broomstick," Hagrid promised.

"We need to get him back to the castle as soon as possible," Pomfrey said, and Snape reluctantly nodded his consent. They secured the stretcher to the sledge, then Hagrid lifted Pomfrey onto the back of the loose Thestral, and slapped both animals on the rump.

"Off to the castle with yeh!" he said, and the Thestrals took off running as Pomfrey let out a startled yelp. Snape and Lupin followed on broomstick.

*** 

Meanwhile, in the stands, Dawlish and Williamson cried out in fear when the glowing skull appeared in the air.

"The Dark Mark!" Williamson exclaimed.

"So the Death Eaters are back," Dawlish said softly. "I wonder if it's Lestrange, or someone who was never exposed as a Death Eater to begin with?"

"But all of them were caught or killed except for Rabastan Lestrange!" Mrs. Ackerley protested.

"You can never quite be sure with the Death Eaters," Dawlish said grimly. "Look at how many of them escaped detection after the first war."

Tonks abandoned her disguise and ran down the stairs to join the other Aurors. "It came from that direction!" she shouted, pointing east. "We might still be able to catch the caster if we hurry!"

"Tonks?" Williamson said, looking surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Ian, but we don't have time," Tonks replied impatiently, then cried out as she saw the Bludger strike Theodore and knock him off his broomstick.

"There's nothing we can do from here," Dawlish said briskly. "We've got to get some brooms and head out to where the Dark Mark was cast."

"But Theodore--" Tonks started to say.

"Who cares what happens to a Death Eater's son?" sneered Williamson, and Tonks glared at him. 

"What about the children?" Mrs. Ackerley cried. "If there are Death Eaters on the loose, you have to protect them!"

"I'll speak to the Headmaster," Dawlish said. "I'm sure he and the other teachers will see the students safely back to the castle." They hurried out of the stands, and to her relief, Tonks saw Theodore rescued by his teammates.

"Tonks!" Dumbledore said when he saw her. "It's a good thing that you decided to attend the match!" Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "And the two of you also, of course."

The other two Aurors scowled at him. Dawlish in particular still hadn't forgiven Dumbledore for knocking him out when he had been trying to arrest the Headmaster on Fudge's orders after the secret D.A. meetings had been exposed. The fact that Dumbledore had been right all along about Voldemort's return didn't mitigate Dawlish's resentment.

"We heard rumors of threats and hexes that might be Death Eater activity," Dawlish said curtly, "and it seems those rumors are true, so it is indeed a good thing we came."

"We need to try and track down the source of the Dark Mark," Tonks said urgently. "Can you loan us some brooms?"

"Of course," the Headmaster said. Lupin had taken Branwen's broom to ride back to the castle, but Sinistra and Hooch readily gave theirs to the Aurors, as did Michael Corner.

"Can you handle things here, Dumbledore?" Dawlish asked. "You'll see to the students' safety?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "Go, quickly. We'll take care of the students." The three Aurors nodded and took off in the direction of the glowing skull, which was slowly beginning to dissipate. In the stands, the students were milling about in fear and confusion, and many were close to panic. Dumbledore sent the teachers to escort the students back to the castle, calling on the prefects to organize their housemates in an orderly fashion. With the teachers and prefects taking charge, the students began to calm down, and although they were still frightened, they lined up and walked back to the castle instead of running in a blind panic.

*** 

Pomfrey threw Snape and Lupin out of the hospital wing, because she needed to concentrate to cast her healing spells, and she said she couldn't do that with them nervously pacing back and forth while asking, "Is he going to be all right?" every few minutes. So instead, they paced back and forth out in the hallway.

Suddenly Selima ran up, gasping for breath. Her black eyes were frantic, and her golden skin probably would have been pale with fear if it hadn't been flushed because she had just run straight from the Pitch to the castle. Lady Snape did not look at all cool and dignified; her face was red and sweaty, and her hair was starting to come loose from the combs that were pinning it back. Snape had never seen his mother in such a state, and he stared at her in shock, distracted from his worries for just a second.

"Is he all right?" Selima gasped, still sounding short of breath.

"We don't know," Lupin replied quietly. "Madam Pomfrey is working on him right now. It was a serious injury, requiring a major healing spell. She said that the Bludger fractured his skull."

"Then shouldn't we take him to St. Mungo's, if it's that bad?" Selima demanded.

"Madam Pomfrey is a very capable Healer," Lupin said, with what was considerable patience under the circumstances. "And moving him could worsen the injury."

"Then we should have St. Mungo's send a Healer here!" Selima said.

"Poppy will let us know if she needs help," Lupin said. "She won't place her pride over a student's safety. And it might be dangerous to interrupt her while she's casting the healing spell."

Selima couldn't argue with that, so she joined Lupin and Snape in their pacing outside the hospital wing. A couple of minutes later, Lukas and Prospero arrived with Dylan and Blaise. "They insisted on seeing Theodore," Lukas said with a small smile. "It seemed easier to let them come than to argue with them about it. Your students are very stubborn, Severus."

"Is he going to be all right?" Blaise asked, moving towards the door, but his grandfather held him back with a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder when Lupin stepped in front of the door, blocking his path.

"Madam Pomfrey is tending to him right now," Lupin said, trying to smile reassuringly, but the failed attempt only alarmed Dylan and Blaise even more. "We can't interrupt her until she's done casting her spells."

"He will be all right," Snape said in a grim voice, his face cold and implacable, "or I will personally eviscerate whoever was responsible for today's little prank. Slowly. VERY slowly."

"I'm sorry," Lukas said quietly, looking unusually subdued. "You were right; it was a bad idea to use the match to lure out the prankster. We should have just canceled it."

Before Snape could reply, the door to the hospital wing opened, and a very weary-looking Madam Pomfrey emerged.

"How is he?" everyone exclaimed at once.

Pomfrey smiled, looking tired but satisfied. "He needs a few days of bed rest, and he shouldn't do anything strenuous for at least a week, but he'll be fine. He's sleeping now, but you can come in for a few minutes." She gave the crowd a stern look. "So long as you're quiet and don't disturb him."

Snape, Lupin, Selima, Dylan, and Blaise hurried into the room; Lukas and Prospero hung back a little, not wanting to intrude. Theodore lay on the bed, looking paler than usual, his black hair providing a stark contrast to his white skin. There was no visible sign of injury on him, though, and his breathing sounded even and steady, not labored. Lupin reached out with a trembling hand, and very gently brushed the boy's hair back from his face. "Thank Merlin," Lupin whispered fervently; Snape just let out a shaky sigh of relief.

Suddenly Theodore's eyelids fluttered, blinking weakly a few times before they finally opened fully. "Remus," he whispered, as his gaze slowly focused on the faces looking down at him. "Father. Grandmother."

Without warning, Selima burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. Snape stared at her in shock for a few moments, then very slowly and hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Selima moved closer and leaned against him, as if that tentative gesture was an invitation, or perhaps it was simply that she would have collapsed otherwise. Snape looked even more shocked, and incredibly uncomfortable, but he didn't push her away, and his arm seemed to move forward of its own accord to encircle her shoulders.

Lupin smiled, then bent down to kiss Theodore gently on the forehead. "I'll come check on you later, Theo," he said casually. "I'm going to go talk to the Headmaster and see if they've found out anything about the Dark Mark that was cast at the match." He winked at Theodore, a mischievous grin on his face, and Theodore managed a faint smile in response.

"I'll bring you some candy when you're feeling better," Dylan promised, grinning as well, and left the room with Lupin.

Blaise hesitated, knowing that he should give the Professor and his mother some privacy, but not wanting to leave his lover's side. Prospero placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Come, Blaise. We promised Madam Pomfrey that we wouldn't stay long. You know that Theodore's all right, and that's the main thing."

"You can come visit him again later," Pomfrey said kindly.

Blaise nodded, said goodbye to Theo, and followed his grandfather out of the room. Prospero glanced back at Selima before he left, an affectionate and wistful smile on his face. Lukas left as well, and Pomfrey retreated to her office, leaving Snape, Selima, and Theodore alone together.

*** 

Snape just stood there, feeling stiff and awkward as his mother wept against his chest. He had never seen her weep before--not even at her friend Anya's funeral, nor at Lucien and Vanessa Malfoy's. Snape had attended both funerals with his parents, and remembered his mother's face being set in a blank, rigid mask. He had not been surprised by her apparent coldness at the time, but now he realized that she must have been hiding her feelings--as Snape had hid his own for so many years. Maybe she had wept in private; maybe she had never allowed herself to weep. She must have wept on the day of his father's funeral, because her face had been streaked with tears when he had found her in the study with Lupin, but still, Snape had never actually seen her cry--until today.

Maybe he should have felt resentful that she loved Theodore enough to weep for him, as she had never wept for her own son, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of relief that Theodore would be all right. Everything else seemed insignificant by comparison. Unconsciously, Snape's hand gripped Selima's shoulder a little tighter, and he suddenly felt faint as the full realization of just how close Theodore had come to dying hit him. For a moment, Selima was supporting Snape just as much as he was supporting her, and mother and son clung to each other, briefly united in combined fear and relief.

Theodore smiled, still looking weak and groggy. Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion to dull the pain of his injury; its main ingredient was poppy juice, and ironically, its narcotic properties gave it an unintended side effect that was remarkably similar to the Potion of Liberation. "I'm glad you two aren't fighting anymore," he whispered.

Selima stopped sobbing, and she and Snape looked down at Theodore, both looking equally startled and guilty. Then Selima glanced up at Snape and asked, "He heard us, that night?" 

"Yes," Snape replied, flushing. He quickly added, "But everything's all right now, Theodore. You don't have to worry."

"Good," Theodore said sleepily, and smiled up at the two of them trustingly, with none of his usual cynicism or guardedness, which made him look much younger than his years. Selima and Snape looked at each other again, both feeling shaken and humbled, and acutely aware that now they really would have to find some way to make their fragile truce permanent. Snape suddenly realized that he still had his arm around his mother's shoulders; he started to remove it, then on second thought, left it where it was, telling himself that it might upset Theodore if he suddenly pushed Selima away from him.

Theodore's eyes slowly closed, and he seemed to drift back into sleep, still smiling. Snape and Selima remained as they were, almost afraid to move or speak, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and starting another argument that might push the other away from them, perhaps permanently this time. Neither did they have any idea how to begin mending the rift between them.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually about ten or fifteen minutes, Lukas returned. "Excuse me, Severus," he said apologetically, and Snape and Selima jumped a little, and finally moved apart from each other. "I'm sorry to bother you," the werewolf continued, "but I think you had better come to the Headmaster's office. Those Aurors--not your purple-haired friend, but the other two--are ranting about a Death Eater attack and threatening to close the school, but Mr. Potter and Dumbledore are trying to tell them that the Dark Mark was not a real one. I didn't quite understand, but they are insisting that it was not authentic, that it didn't look like the one that the Death Eaters used to cast..."

"Of course!" Snape suddenly exclaimed, suddenly recalling what had bothered him about the image of the glowing skull. "They're right; it's not a true Morsmordre spell, but someone trying to imitate it." He turned to his mother. "Will you stay here with Theodore? I don't want to leave him alone."

"Of course," Selima replied.

"I'll stay, too," Lukas offered. "Hooch says that the Bludger wasn't hexed and that it probably only hit Theodore by accident, and I don't think that anyone would try to attack him here in the hospital wing, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I promise I will guard your cub with my life."

"Thank you," Snape said, not wanting to leave, but feeling a little better about it. Theodore should be well protected with a werewolf and a sorceress versed in the Dark Arts guarding him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

*** 

Dumbledore's office was crowded with anxious teachers and angry Aurors--and one student. "And I suppose you're an expert on Death Eater spells, boy!" Williamson was saying sarcastically.

"I'm telling you," Harry retorted, looking angry and frustrated, "it's not the same as the one that was cast at the Quidditch World Cup! That skull was made up of green sparks, while this one looked solid, and the one at the World Cup was a darker green, too!"

"The boy is correct," Snape said coldly as he swept into the room, his black robes swirling around him. Harry stared at him in shock, looking surprised to hear Snape actually agreeing with him for once. "The spell was obviously some sort of illusion or facsimile created by someone who's never actually seen the real thing."

"Well, I suppose you should know, Snape," Dawlish said, giving Snape a hostile and suspicious look.

Snape just sneered at him in return. "I would have expected an Auror to be more informed than a teenage boy. But then again, Fudge and his lackeys spent more time trying to pretend that the Dark Lord didn't exist than they did trying to actually hunt down the Death Eaters."

Dawlish's face turned red with anger, and Williamson clenched his fists and said, "Why you--!"

"Knock it off, all of you!" Tonks said sharply, stepping between Snape and the Aurors. "Can we agree that it was not a true Morsmordre spell? Severus, as you said, should know, and Albus, Sirius, Branwen, and Harry all concur."

"We saw it often enough in the old days," Branwen said quietly. "It was as Harry described it: a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth, comprised of green sparks."

"Very well," Williamson said sulkily. "That doesn't mean that it isn't a serious threat. It was obviously cast by someone who sympathizes with the Death Eaters--or perhaps someone too young to have seen the actual spell cast." He gave Snape a pointed look. "Say, for instance, the child of a Death Eater..."

"They were victims, too!" Lupin protested. "Some of them were abused by their parents--"

"Right," Williamson said in a tone that said he didn't believe a word Lupin was saying.

"More to the point," Snape interrupted curtly, "all of them, save for Miss Avery, were playing in the match, so they couldn't have conjured the false Dark Mark--I'm sure that someone would have noticed if they tried to cast a spell in the middle of the game. And I'm also certain that Miss Avery's movements can be accounted for. There must be any number of witnesses among the students and parents who can testify that she never left the stands during the match."

"They didn't need to leave to cast the spell!" Dawlish said triumphantly. He motioned to a couple of items lying on Dumbledore's desk: a wand and a lump of melted plastic and metal.

"What is that?" Snape asked.

"It's a Muggle device, a tape recorder," Tonks explained. "Or at least, it used to be. We found it, along with the wand, left up in a tree near where the Dark Mark--er, I mean, the fake Dark Mark--appeared. A Prior Incantato spell revealed that this is the wand used to cast the Mark. I think what happened is that the perpetrator cast a time-delayed spell, probably set to go off when the command word 'Morsmordre' was uttered, which explains the tape recorder. There was also some sort of self-destruct spell cast on the tape recorder, probably to destroy the evidence."

"But why destroy the recorder and leave the wand behind?" Snape asked, feeling puzzled. "It looks like an Ollivander's wand; surely they'd realize that we'll eventually be able to track down the owner."

"The spell appears to have been focused on the wand, so they'd have to leave it behind if they wanted the spell to go off as planned," Tonks replied. "Perhaps the wand was meant to be destroyed along with the tape recorder, but was strong enough to survive the blast. Ollivander's wands are pretty tough."

"That still doesn't make sense," Lupin said, frowning. "All we'd have to do is demand that the students produce their wands, and whoever is missing one would obviously be the culprit. Not to mention that it will be difficult to get by in class without a wand."

"Maybe whoever did it has more than one wand?" Harry suggested.

Dawlish snorted, giving Harry a condescending look. "Your Muggle upbringing shows, Mr. Potter. A wizard chooses his wand with care--"

"Actually, the wand chooses him, according to Mr. Ollivander," Tonks chimed in helpfully.

Dawlish glared at her, then continued, "--because the wand becomes attuned to the wizard. People don't just throw away wands, and they don't normally keep spares."

"But there were broken wands in the junk--I mean, Mr. Zabini's shop in Diagon Alley," Harry argued. "So people do sometimes throw them away."

"Sometimes wands do get broken," Tonks agreed pleasantly before Dawlish could respond, "by accident, through carelessness, or occasionally due to shoddy workmanship. But Ollivander's wands are very well-made and expensive, and it is unusual for someone to just discard one like this."

"This Muggle device proves that it couldn't have been one of my students!" Snape said emphatically, pointing at the ruined tape recorder. "None of them would have a Muggle device or know how to work one!"

"It is true that most of the Slytherins come from families that normally disdain such things," Branwen agreed. "And it's also clear now that a real Death Eater could not have been behind this latest threat--they hated Muggles, and none of them would have sullied their hands by touching a Muggle device."

"Maybe so," Dawlish blustered, "but it's clear that something strange is going on at this school--hexes, threats, Dark Marks! If you can't keep things under control at Hogwarts, Dumbledore, then we'll replace you with someone who can!"

"You are certainly welcome to try," Dumbledore said with a smile, not looking the least bit worried.

"You tried that once before with Umbridge," Snape reminded Dawlish in a silky voice. "And look how well that turned out."

"We'll be speaking to the school governors about this!" Dawlish shouted, then he and Williamson stormed out of the room.

Tonks looked much more upset than Dumbledore. "I'll talk to Arthur, Albus. I'm sure he won't let things go that far."

"I'm not worried about that, Tonks," Dumbledore said, patting her on the shoulder reassuringly. "What I'm concerned about is protecting my students."

"Did anyone recognize that voice?" Harry asked. "The one that shouted the spell--I mean, someone had to record it onto the tape, right? It didn't sound like a student."

"That won't be much help, I'm afraid, Harry," Sirius said. "There are charms people can use to alter their voices."

"They could even have altered the voice on the tape with Muggle technology and no need for magic," Tonks said. "Although probably not with this machine," she added, tapping the half-melted recorder. "It seems like a pretty basic model. I can check with merchants who deal in Muggle objects, and see if we can track down who bought and sold this device. Although they could have bought it on their own from a Muggle shop, which would make it much more difficult to track down the buyer."

"Or they could have bought it on the black market," Snape mused, remembering that Bleddri had once said that his werewolves used to traffic in proscribed Muggle devices.

"Tape recorders aren't on the proscribed list," Tonks said. "But you're right, they could have bought it through unofficial channels."

"We could ask Lukas if he knows of anyone who might be able to help us," Lupin suggested. "Someone dealing in shady goods wouldn't be willing to talk to the Ministry, but they might talk to Lukas or one of his people, if we make it clear that we aren't interested in shutting them down, just in finding out who bought the recorder."

"In the meantime," McGonagall said firmly, "let us see if we can track down the owner of this wand. That should prove the simpler task. We'll go House by House, and have the students produce their wands. If all the students are in possession of their wands, we can ask Mr. Ollivander if he can identify the wand and its owner."

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and several of the other teachers agreed to investigate the students, and Tonks left to report to Arthur, promising to return afterwards to see how the investigation was coming along. "Why don't you and Remus go back to the hospital wing, Severus?" Dumbledore said gently before he left the office. "I know you want to be with Theodore, and I'll send word as soon as we find out anything."

"And perhaps it might be better if you aren't physically present when we do apprehend the culprit, considering the mood you're in," Branwen said with ironic humor. "We would like to turn him or her over to the Ministry in one piece."

Sirius put an arm around his godson in a protective manner and said grimly, "I know what I'd do to anyone who tried to hurt Harry."

Snape smiled without humor and dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Very well, then, but I want to be notified the minute you find out who that wand belongs to."

"Of course, Severus," Branwen said, and turned to leave. Snape noticed that Bane was perched on her shoulder as usual, but he was slumped down almost flat in exhaustion, and looked more like a feather duster than his usual menacing self.

"Is Bane all right?" Snape asked in concern. Bane raised his head slightly and croaked in response.

Branwen smiled and reached up to gently stroke his feathers. "He may have pulled a muscle--or more likely, several--but he'll be fine with a little rest."

Snape searched his pockets, found a piece of candy, unwrapped it and gave it Bane, who perked up slightly. "I'll buy you a box of chocolates at Hogsmeade," he promised, and the raven cawed happily.

"Yes, thank you, Bane!" Lupin said, petting the bird. "You're a real hero--you helped save Theo's life!"

Bane preened, and his mistress laughed. "You'll make him so swell-headed that he won't be able to fit on my shoulder," Branwen joked, but she gave her familiar an affectionate pat. "Go on now; the two of you should get back to the hospital wing."

Snape nodded, and left with Lupin.

*** 

In the hospital wing, Cyril took a seat near the door, all the way across the room from Theodore's bed, apparently to give Selima some privacy; maybe he was embarrassed because he had seen her crying. He idly flipped through some magazines that had been left lying around the wing, but there was a certain air of alertness and tension about him, and Selima somehow knew that he would be ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

It was strangely reassuring to have a werewolf guarding the door, and Selima relaxed a little, pulled up a chair beside Theodore's bed, and sat there quietly, watching her grandson sleep. Such a simple, ordinary thing as watching him sleep peacefully, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out, suddenly seemed like a miracle, a moment to be treasured and cherished. Her husband, if he had been alive, would have laughed at her for being so sentimental, but she no longer cared about that. She reached out and placed her hand over Theodore's.

He blinked and whispered, "Grandmother?"

"I'm sorry, child," Selima said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

But he did not go back to sleep, although his eyes were only half-open. "Where's Father?" he asked.

"He went to talk to the Headmaster," Selima replied. "He'll be back soon." She started to pull her hand back, but his fingers curled around hers, holding it in place. His grip was weak and she could easily have broken it and pulled away, but she let her hand remain where it was.

"You and Father have really stopped fighting?" he asked anxiously. 

"We are not fighting," Selima said, trying to sound reassuring. _At least, not at the moment,_ she added silently.

Maybe Theodore picked up on her unspoken words, because he persisted, "You aren't mad at each other?"

His hand tightened around hers a little, and Selima was surprised to see how much her quarrel with Severus must have upset him. She knew that he was devoted to Severus, so she would have expected him to take his father's side and be angry with her, not to look so dismayed, almost frightened. Which meant that...he cared about her as well as Severus. That realization made her tremble a little.

"I am not angry at your father, child," she said. "Although I could not blame him if he were angry at me."

"Because of what Lord Severin did?" Theodore asked.

"Yes," Selima said.

"And because you never tried to stop him."

It wasn't really a question, but Selima whispered, "Yes."

"Why?" Theodore asked. "How could you let him do that to your son?"

His quiet voice, no louder than a whisper, sounded like the voice of her conscience to Selima. She bowed her head and said, "I was taught to obey my husband in all things," but she knew it wasn't really an excuse.

"My mother was scared of my father," Theodore whispered. "Were you scared of Lord Severin?"

"No," Selima replied honestly. "He wasn't like your father--your biological father. He never struck me or threatened me, or even raised his voice to me."

"He never hurt you, but he hurt Father?" Theodore asked, sounding confused.

Selima sighed. "I'm not saying that what he did was right, but he didn't do it just to be cruel, or because he got pleasure out of hurting people. He did it because he believed that swift, strong punishment would prevent further disobedience or mischief. He did it because that was how his parents had disciplined him as a child."

Theodore shuddered. "I'm glad I never met his parents."

"I was not afraid of Severin," Selima said. "I'm not sure what he would have done if I had defied him and tried to intervene on Severus's behalf. He would have been angry, of course, but I don't know if he would have gone so far as to try to hex or curse me. But that was not really what I was afraid of." She never spoke of such things aloud, never even examined them too closely in her own mind, but something in Theodore's eyes seemed to draw the confession out of her. "When I married Severin, I gave up my old life and my chance of love with Prospero. All I had left was my duty to my family, and then to my husband, and my status as Severin's wife." She smiled bitterly. "Duty and status. And if I lost that, if I botched this marriage and disgraced myself and my family, then everything I sacrificed would have been for nothing."

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore asked sympathetically.

"Not exactly," Selima sighed. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

"Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him?" Theodore whispered. "Is...is that why you and Father...?"

His voice trailed off, but Selima knew what he meant. "You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" she said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?"

*** 

Theodore wasn't aware that Lukas was in the room, and Selima seemed to have forgotten that he was there; the two of them were wrapped up in their own little world as Selima talked about her past. Her voice was very soft, but thanks to his enhanced werewolf senses, Lukas was able to pick up every word, and it made him very uncomfortable. He sighed a little as he flipped through a back issue of Witch Weekly, not really concentrating on recipes for pumpkin cookies or gossipy stories about which famous wizards and witches were dating each other.

He didn't really want to know about the Snape family's problems, which seemed even more complicated than he had originally thought, because he already had enough of his own. But he couldn't help but notice that for all of Lady Selima's wealth and power, she didn't seem to be a very happy woman. In fact, from what he had just heard, combined with what he already knew, he would say that her life had been a rather bleak and lonely one. Perhaps that was partly her own fault, but still, he felt a little sorry for her. 

Lukas's parents had had a happy marriage, and he was beginning to understand just how rare that was among the pureblood elite. He was also shocked to hear that she had apparently been in love with Prospero Zabini before marrying Severin Snape; hmm...that might explain a few things, like why Prospero was suddenly taking an interest in an old friend's son. Perhaps it was not just a sense of duty to Cynric that had prompted his visit to Lukas, but the fact that his former lover had taken an interest in Lukas as well.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and quietly rose from his seat and peered out the door; neither Selima nor Theodore paid him any heed. He had started to reach for his wand, but saw that it was Snape and Lupin, and let his hand fall back to his side.

"How is Theo?" Lupin asked in a hushed voice.

"He's fine," Lukas whispered. "He and Lady Selima are...er...talking."

Something in the werewolf's voice and face put Snape on alert, and instead of announcing himself, he slipped into the room silently and stealthily, like a spy. He saw Selima sitting at Theodore's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him in a quiet voice. His mother was normally a very observant woman, but she didn't seem to notice him approach and duck behind one of the privacy screens that stood beside each bed.

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore was asking. That was something Snape had never considered before; his parents had always presented a united front, and Selima had never seemed afraid of Severin. But status was everything to Selima, and she would certainly have lost all of her considerable status if her husband had divorced her.

"Not exactly," Selima replied. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

Looking more than a little embarrassed, Lukas whispered to Lupin, "Now that you two are back, I'll be going," and hastily fled the room.

Snape paid no attention to him, because Theodore had just asked a question that he very much wanted to hear the answer to: "Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him? Is...is that why you and Father...?"

"You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" Selima said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?" 

Snape waited for the answer, feeling almost spellbound. He held his breath for a moment, not wanting to make any noise that might distract her.

There was a brief silence, then Selima said, "I did not hate Severin. I resented him a little at first, because his marriage offer ruined any chance I had of marrying Prospero, but he didn't do it on purpose. He didn't know about Prospero; no one did, except for Cynric and Anya. Probably if he had known, he might have reconsidered his proposal, because he wouldn't have wanted a wife who might disgrace him by carrying on an affair behind his back. And besides...deep down, I always knew that Prospero wasn't really Ministry of Magic material, and that my father would probably never consent to our marriage." She sighed. "It was just a foolish childhood dream. I could have hated Severin, but what would be the point, except to make myself more miserable? I was bound to him for life, whether I liked it or not."

"But you didn't love him, either," Theodore said.

"No," Selima agreed, "I didn't. I respected him, and I did my duty to him, that is all. He wasn't the kind of man who invited love, nor did I want to love him--or anyone else, for that matter."

"Including Father?" Theodore asked quietly. It was as if Theodore was voicing Snape's inner thoughts, all the things he had always wondered but never dared to ask.

"I...I..." Selima's voice shook a little as she fought to get the words out, speaking in a hoarse whisper. "I gave up on love to do my duty. The only way I could be a good wife and not hate my husband was to feel...nothing. Not love, not hate, just...nothing." A single tear trickled down her face. "That was how I could marry a stranger and watch Prospero marry another woman without screaming or crying myself to sleep at night. That is how I could stand by and watch while my husband cast a Cruciatus Curse on my son. I knew I should have felt something more than what I did. I knew I should have wanted to protect my son, but..." Both her voice and her hands trembled. "But if I let myself...feel...again, I might have fallen apart." She laughed harshly, and her hand clenched convulsively around Theodore's. "As I am doing now."

Theodore stared at her thoughtfully for awhile, then finally said, "I was so scared of my father that I always did whatever he told me to, even keep silent about my uncle's death. If it hadn't been for the Professor and Remus, I probably would have become a Death Eater myself. And I probably would have married Serafina like my parents had planned, even though I loved Blaise."

Selima shook her head. "It's not the same thing. No one was threatening me." Looking weary and haunted, she whispered, "I wish...I wish I could go back and change things, but now it's too late."

Snape was shaken by what he had just heard. It was too much for him to deal with right now, and he needed to think it over before he decided what, if anything, he was going to say to his mother about it. He slowly backed away, intending to slip out of the room before Selima realized he was there, but his distraction made him clumsy, and he bumped into a chair as he stepped back without watching where he was going.

The noise made Selima's head jerk up with a start. "Severus!" she exclaimed, sounding dismayed, then her face turned red and she stared down at the floor.

Snape stood there, looking just as awkward, his face turning just as red.

"Father," Theodore said anxiously.

Lupin immediately glided forward and took charge of the situation. "I'll stay with Theodore," he said cheerfully. "Why don't you and Lady Selima go for a walk, Severus? She looks a little tired; perhaps you could take her to get a cup of tea." And somehow Selima and Snape found themselves hustled out of the hospital wing by the werewolf, in a gentle yet brisk and efficient manner. They walked down the hall, still flushing and not looking at one another.

Lupin sat down in the chair that Selima had just vacated, and smiled down reassuringly at his foster son, who was still looking a little worried. "Don't worry, Theo," he said confidently. "Everything will be all right."

*** 

Snape and Selima walked in silence down the corridor. "I'm sorry, Severus," Selima finally said.

"I suppose it's partly my fault for eavesdropping," Snape muttered.

"That's not what I meant," Selima said. "I am sorry that I never stopped your father from cursing or hexing you." Snape came to an abrupt halt, and finally turned to look at her, and Selima met his gaze unflinchingly. "You heard what I told Theodore, but I know that's no excuse for what I did--or rather, didn't do, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I am truly sorry, and I will always regret it."

Snape stared at her, filled with emotions so conflicting and turbulent that he wasn't sure what he felt. Finally he said, "Let's discuss this somewhere a little more private." He led her to the nearest empty room, which happened to be the History of Magic classroom. He leaned against a desk, fidgeting nervously, while his mother just stood there and stared at him with an outward appearance of calm. No--on second thought, there was a certain amount of tension in her stance. It reminded him of an accused Death Eater steeling him or herself to face a judge and jury, which annoyed him for some reason. Was he really that terrifying? he wondered, ignoring the fact that he had cultivated that image for years among the students. "When did this change of heart come about?" he asked, his voice coming out a bit more sarcastic than he had intended.

But Selima did not take offense, and quietly replied, "I'm not sure, exactly. I think it has always bothered me, although I pretended that it didn't. But I suppose I didn't really admit it to myself until..." She hesitated for a moment, and flushed a little. "Until Professor Lupin and I had a talk on the day of your father's funeral."

Snape remembered walking in on Selima and Lupin in the study, and being shocked by her tear-streaked face. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more--that his mother had been weeping, or that she had been weeping in front of the werewolf. "That's what you were talking about that day?!" he exclaimed. He couldn't imagine his mother discussing such personal things with anyone, let alone Lupin. Then again, Lupin had a way of drawing people out, almost against their will.

"Among other things," Selima said, still flushing.

"But you never said anything about it to me until now," Snape said.

"I didn't see the point," Selima replied. "Saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't erase the past. I didn't expect you to forgive me just because I apologized; in fact, I thought it might make you angry, as if I thought a few simple words could make up for everything you suffered."

Snape stared at his mother in surprise. She held little mercy for anyone--including herself, it seemed. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the fact that she judged herself by the same standards that she judged everyone else.

"I didn't think that apologizing would change anything," Selima said. "Was I wrong?"

"I'm...not sure," Snape said slowly. "Perhaps." He had hated Sirius Black for a long time, even after he apologized about the Shrieking Shack incident, but in the end, it meant something to him to know that Black felt remorse for what he had done. He didn't think that he could have forgiven Black without that knowledge.

"I'm sorry," Selima repeated, although Snape was not sure whether she was still apologizing for the past, or for not apologizing sooner.

There was a long, awkward silence. Snape wasn't sure if he could forgive his mother, but he could no longer seem to summon up the old feelings of hatred and resentment. He thought about what she had said, about trying not to feel anything through all the years of her marriage, and it reminded him uncomfortably of himself. 

"When I first broke up with Lupin, years ago," he said hesitantly, "I decided to hate him, because it was easier than missing him." He wasn't sure how much she knew about his past history with Lupin, but she just nodded without asking any questions. There was another long silence, which Snape broke by laughing, a little bitterly, but not without genuine amusement. "Father would be horrified if he could see us now, acting so sentimental," Snape said. "Weeping over Theodore, reminiscing about past lovers..."

"Yes, he would," Selima agreed, smiling faintly. Then her expression turned serious, and she asked, "Do you know why your father was so adamant that you not fall prey to sentimentality?"

"Because it was a weakness," Snape said, surprised by the question. "Isn't that what he always said? Or did you have a more specific reason in mind?"

"When he was about five or six years old, his father decided that Severin was becoming too attached to his favorite nursemaid, so he dismissed her," Selima replied, her black eyes unreadable. "When he wept and asked where she had gone, Severin's father told him that he had just learned a valuable lesson: that the girl did not love him, and that she cared for him only so long as she was paid to. He said that love was an illusion and a luxury that only the weak could afford."

Snape suddenly recalled one of his father's favorite sayings, which he had repeated so often that even now, Snape could recite it by rote without thinking: "Sentimentality is a luxury only the weak can afford". 

"Father told you that?!" Snape exclaimed. Severin had never talked much about his childhood, and Snape realized now that he knew very little about his father's past.

"Not really," Selima said. "He let a little of it slip out when Vanessa Malfoy suggested that he hire a nursemaid to help me after you were born. He let me hire as many servants as I pleased to take care of the mansion, but he was insistent that his son not be raised by an outsider. I learned a little more from the portrait of Lord Stefan, before Severin had him locked up in the attic. He said that the girl coddled Severin and kissed him and sang him lullabies, and that he couldn't allow her to make his heir soft and weak."

Snape's grandfather had died before he was born, but he remembered the portrait of a disagreeable old man, with the same hooked nose and cold eyes as Severin's, who had finally been banished to the attic after offering one too many pieces of unwanted advice to his son.

"Vorcher remembered the girl, too," Selima said softly. "He said that she was a pretty girl with gold hair, and that she wept when Lord Stefan fired her and she had to leave. He said that after that, Lord Stefan hired more nursemaids, but they were all middle-aged and not so pretty, and that none of them sang lullabies. And they would stay for only a few months at a time before Lord Stefan would replace them with a new one."

Snape found it difficult to picture his father as a little boy weeping for the nursemaid who had raised him. He had always remembered Severin as being hard and cold, strong and unyielding. Damn it, he didn't want to feel sorry for his father! He didn't want to understand what had made Severin the way he was; he just wanted to hate him--was that too much to ask? "Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?" Snape asked petulantly.

"No," Selima replied in an even voice. "That doesn't justify what he did to you, and I don't expect you to forgive him. But I want you to know that he did it because he believed that he was making you stronger. Because he believed that you would need that strength to survive and prosper among the pureblood elite."

Snape turned to stare out of one of the classroom windows, looking at nothing in particular, not knowing what to say or what to think.

"Severin was not really suited to life as a Lord," Selima continued. "He did not take joy in playing the game of politics like his friend Lucien Malfoy did. I don't think that he really wanted a family; he postponed marrying or even searching for a bride until he was nearly forty. His father had just died, and it suddenly became imperative for him to have an heir and ensure the succession. The only things that Severin truly loved were his books and his research. He would have been suited to the life of a scholar-monk in earlier times, perhaps. If he had been a younger son, he could still have been a scholar, but he was the eldest and only son, so he did his duty as heir, and married and led a life of ambition instead of study."

Snape's parents, it seemed, had given up people and things that they loved in order to do their duty to their families. No wonder it had galled them so much that he refused to fall into line and do his duty--not that he had any intention of making himself miserable just for the sake of duty and tradition. But still... "I know so little about who Father really was," Snape murmured, more to himself than Selima, and he was surprised to find that he regretted it.

"We could still complete the portrait of your father, if you wish," Selima said. "I know it's not the same thing, but it does have Severin's memories. It might be able to tell you about his past, if you really want to know."

Snape shuddered a little at the thought of his father glaring down at him from the wall, the way the portrait of Mrs. Black did to Sirius. The thought of talking to something that was less than a phantom, a mere shadow of Severin's true self, held little appeal for Snape. "No, thank you, Mother," he said. "I'm not that desperate. Besides, you know we'll only fight, and then he'll end up in the attic with all the other Snapes." He managed an ironic smile, and Selima actually laughed a little in response.

"I suppose you're right, Severus."

"If you could do it over again," Snape said suddenly, without really thinking about it, "would you do things differently? Would you have married Prospero Zabini and to hell with what your family wanted?"

Selima looked startled at first, then stared at him intently, and for a moment he thought that she wasn't going to answer. Then she said, "But then Marius would be my son, not you. And...Marius is a decent man, but he will never be...exceptional. He does not have the ambition or drive to become more than the owner of a junk shop. He does not have the courage it must have taken not just to fight the Death Eaters, but to live among them as a spy. And he most certainly does not have the brazen effrontery to take a werewolf--and a male, Gryffindor werewolf, at that--as a lover."

Selima smiled, just a little, a very faint upward curving at the corners of her mouth, and Snape stared at her in shock. "Marius might have turned out differently, with a little Bashir blood in him," Snape pointed out.

"Perhaps," Selima said. "But you would also have turned out differently, with whatever mother that your father would have chosen if he had not married me. And there is the fact that Blaise would not exist--at least, not as he is now. So, having taken everything into consideration, I think that I prefer things as they are now."

That was not really the answer Snape had expected to hear, but it made him realize that everything that had happened in his life had led him to this moment, and resulted in what he had now: Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan. If he had been raised in a loving family, then he would not have been so desperately lonely. And if he had not been so lonely, perhaps he would not have been so drawn to Lupin. Perhaps he and Lupin would never have become lovers. 

That thought scared him more than anything ever had--including the fear of being discovered as a spy and tortured by Voldemort. If he and Lupin had never become lovers and then parted bitterly over the Shrieking Shack prank, then he might never have become a Death Eater, in which case, he would never have become a spy for the Order. Without the information he had brought to the Order, perhaps the Dark Lord would have won, and they would all be either dead or slaves of Voldemort now. Or, perhaps the Order and Potter would have triumphed in the end even without Snape's help. 

But if he had not been a Death Eater, he would not have been in a position to befriend Dylan and Theodore. They might have fallen prey to the Dark Lord, and been killed or corrupted. At the very least, they would not be his sons now. That thought scared him as much as the thought of losing Lupin did, and he grabbed at the edge of a desk to steady himself as he felt a tremor run through his body. He had hated all those bitter, lonely years he had spent without Lupin, but maybe they had been necessary in order for him to achieve the happiness he had now.

"Severus?" Selima asked, a look of concern on her face. "Are you all right?"

Snape released the desk and started to say, "Yes," but just then, Professor Binns's ghostly form floated through the blackboard and said, "The goblin rebellions in Britain began in the early 1600s--"

Selima jumped a little, and Snape shouted, "Binns! What are you doing here? It's Saturday!"

Binns droned on for a minute more, before he blinked and turned to look at Snape. "Mr. Snape?" he said, sounding surprised. "Are you in this class?" He looked around the empty room. "Where are all your classmates?"

"I haven't been a student for twenty years!" Snape snapped. "I'm a Professor now, remember? And no one's here because there are no classes on Saturday!"

"Oh," Binns said, a vague and confused look in his eyes. "Well, as long as I'm here, I might as well continue...the first goblin uprising took place in--"

Snape motioned for Selima to follow him, and they left Binns there, droning on contentedly to an empty room. He shook his head and muttered grumpily, "I didn't know it was possible for ghosts to become senile!"

Selima laughed. "He hasn't changed a bit from when I was a student! Well...actually, he was alive back then, but otherwise he's still the same."

"We should get back to the hospital wing," Snape said. "Theodore needs us." He hesitated, then said, "He needs both of us." 

Selima stared into his eyes, then slowly nodded, seeming to understand what he really meant without him needing to explain it further, and they walked together back to the hospital wing.

*** 

Meanwhile, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the other teachers were in the Gryffindor common room. McGonagall ordered the students to line up and present their wands to her, and since she started with the seventh-years, it wasn't long before she came to Neville Longbottom, who stared at her with a worried, shamefaced look, his hands empty, no wand in sight.

"Oh no," McGonagall sighed wearily.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Neville said miserably. "I lost my wand yesterday sometime between Transfiguration class and dinner. I guess I should have said something, but I didn't think it was that important. I thought I had just misplaced it somewhere."

"It's true," Allegra said earnestly. "We helped him look all over for it--the library, the greenhouse, the hallways, the dorm. We figured it must be in your classroom, since that's where he last saw it, but we didn't want to bother you until after the match was over."

McGonagall reached into her pocket and pulled out the wand that the Aurors had found. "By any chance, is this your wand, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neville said in a small voice. "Someone...someone used my wand to cast that spell at the Quidditch match today, didn't they?"

McGonagall sighed again, which seemed answer enough.

"Who's going to tell Severus that we found the owner of the wand, but that we're no closer to catching the culprit behind the pranks than we were before?" Satoshi asked nervously. No one seemed eager to volunteer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the R.A. members begin to have doubts; the Longbottoms have doubts about Snape's loyalties; the relationship between Narcissa and Lukas grows more complicated.

Snape was indeed furious when he learned that the wand turned out to be a dead-end lead. (Branwen had been chosen as the bearer of bad news, since she was deemed most capable of handling a wrathful Snape.) However, he was too exhausted to go into a full-blown rage, since worrying about Theodore and reconciling with his mother had drained most of his energy.

Lupin just sighed. "I'm not really surprised, to be honest. It seemed strange that the culprit would have left behind such an obvious clue that could have implicated him or her."

"Are we sure that this Longbottom had nothing to do with the incident?" Selima asked suspiciously. The teachers seemed to have dismissed the idea out of hand a little too quickly for her taste. "The boy's parents were driven insane by the Death Eaters. Perhaps he holds a grudge against their children, and conjured the Dark Mark in an attempt to implicate the Slytherins."

Snape snorted in derision. "Longbottom's not that devious, Mother--nor that competent. If all these pranks are connected, as we think they are, there's no way he could have gotten away with all of them. One or two, perhaps, but sooner or later he would have botched one of them; I can't tell you how many times he's nearly blown up the Potions classroom. The boy's a walking disaster."

"You exaggerate, Severus," Lupin chided him. "Neville's improved a great deal over the past couple of years."

"Perhaps," Snape conceded grudgingly, "but casting a time-delayed spell requires a certain degree of skill and precision that Mr. Longbottom still lacks."

"And anyway," Lupin continued, "Neville would never do something like this. It's not in his nature to be malicious, and besides, he's friendly with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, so I don't think he holds a grudge against the Death Eater children."

"Mr. Longbottom apparently has a history of being a bit forgetful," Branwen explained to Selima. "It's most likely that he mislaid his wand somewhere, and the real culprit found it and decided it would be safer to use someone else's wand rather than their own."

"Was it just a fortunate coincidence for them?" Lupin wondered. "Or could they have deliberately planned to steal it?"

"It's possible, although a bit risky on their part," Snape said a little dubiously. "You'd think that even Longbottom would notice his pocket being picked." He sighed irritably. "Well, is McGonagall at least going to give him detention for being so careless as to lose his wand?"

"I didn't ask, but I don't think so," Branwen replied, frowning. "It was an accident, and no one could have predicted what would happen."

"It's not his fault, Severus," Lupin said quietly.

"I know, but I'd like to punish _someone_ ," Snape growled. "Damn it, this bloody prankster is almost as clever as the real Death Eaters. I can't believe we're being outsmarted by some snot-nosed brat! Maybe I could 'accidentally' spill some Veritaserum into the pumpkin juice at dinner..."

"I wouldn't advise it, Severus," Branwen said sternly. "Especially since the Aurors have gotten involved. They don't look kindly upon that sort of thing."

"Well, I don't look kindly upon my sons nearly getting killed," Snape grumbled, but was too tired to argue further. He and Lupin and Selima stayed by Theodore's side throughout the day, even eating lunch and dinner in the hospital wing. Every now and then, Theodore would wake briefly and smile, looking reassured when he saw his family watching over him. Lupin finally persuaded Selima to go home and get some rest, but he and Snape slept in the hospital wing that night to guard their son.

*** 

Everyone in Ravenclaw was gossiping anxiously about what had happened at the Quidditch match. Stewart pretended to be as concerned as everyone else, but inside he was gloating. He and Isabelle had figured out how to create what they hoped was a convincing Dark Mark, thanks to Master Satoshi's Illusion classes. (Those classes had also come in handy when Stewart had disguised himself as Theodore Snape in order to plant the gift-wrapped Porvora on Aric's desk.) The only problem had been how to cast it without getting caught. They had considered several plans, including sneaking out of the castle at night to cast it, but that was risky, because they might get caught sneaking back in. Besides, they really wanted to do it during the Quidditch match, where everyone, including Stewart's father's Auror friends, would see it.

Stewart had considered feigning illness, then sneaking out of the hospital wing to cast the spell while everyone was at the match, but that also ran a high risk of discovery. So it had been an incredible stroke of luck when Stewart had discovered Longbottom's wand in Transfiguration class. (McGonagall's fourth-year Ravenclaw class just happened to immediately take place after her seventh-year Gryffindor class that day.) That nitwit had carelessly left his wand behind, and Stewart had quickly pocketed it before anyone noticed. It had been the perfect opportunity--now they could cast the spell in advance without it being traced back to them.

Stewart had some familiarity with Muggle devices, since one of his roommates was a half-blood. When the magical music boxes had been all the rage among the students, Stewart's roommate had casually shrugged it off, explaining that tape recorders did much the same thing with no need for magic. He had been able to order one anonymously, through a classified ad in the Daily Prophet, and record the "Morsmordre" command in secret, using a simple charm to change his voice into something deep and menacing. Isabelle, who was more adept at such things, had cast the time-delayed illusion, and they had snuck out early in the morning to plant the wand and tape recorder in the tree. No one seemed to have noticed their absence, and even if they had, he doubted that their housemates would have found it suspicious. Everyone assumed that he and Isabelle were a couple, and it wasn't uncommon for a couple to sneak off and steal a little time alone together.

Stewart sighed; he only wished that were true. He and Isabelle were good friends, but so far that was all. They had gone to the Yule Ball together, but she had been focused on exposing the Slytherins rather than romance. So far the most he'd won from her had been a kiss on the cheek, but on the other hand, that was still more favor than she'd shown any of the other numerous boys who were interested in her. He hoped that she wasn't pining over some Beauxbatons boy she'd left behind, but comforted himself with the thought that even if such a guy did exist, he was thousands of miles away, while Stewart was right here. Besides, Isabelle seemed single-minded in her pursuit of revenge; he doubted that she would be interested in anything else until she achieved her goal. Which was all the more reason to help her achieve it...

Towards that end, Stewart had contacted a couple of his father's friends, and expressed concern about the various hexes and pranks that had taken place at the school recently. They had already heard disturbing rumors, and were annoyed and offended that Dumbledore had not seen fit to consult with them about it. They had agreed to meet Stewart at the match to discuss it, and perhaps take a look around the school. The Dark Mark illusion had gone off as planned, and now the Aurors were officially involved--Dumbledore and Snape wouldn't be able to brush off these incidents anymore. If the Aurors dug deep enough, surely they would find some evidence that the Slytherins were up to no good--enough to expel them, maybe even arrest them.

It never occurred to Stewart that the Slytherins might be innocent, nor did he worry about his own role in the pranks being exposed. If the Ravenclaws had a flaw, it was probably pride in their own cleverness, and a certainty that no one else could outsmart them.

*** 

Meanwhile, in the Hufflepuff dorm, Tristan frowned as he watched Isabelle and several other girls talk about what had happened at the match. "It's so scary," Hannah Abbott said. "Like back in second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, or in third year, when Sirius Black snuck into the castle. Of course, you weren't here back then, Isabelle..."

"No, but my mother told me how it was back in the old days, during the first war," Isabelle said solemnly. "She said that no one felt safe, and you didn't know which of your neighbors or coworkers might secretly be Death Eaters. They wiped out entire families--not just their enemies, but anyone related to them, even women and children."

"No wonder your mum fled the country," Hannah said. 

Isabelle nodded. "Yes, she'll be worried when she hears about what happened. I should go write to her and let her know I'm all right."

Tristan quietly got up and went after Isabelle as she left the common room. "Isabelle!" he hissed. "I want to talk to you!"

She turned and smiled at him. "You know you're not allowed in the girls' dorm, Tristan."

"You and Stewart were behind that Dark Mark at the match, weren't you?" Tristan demanded in a hushed voice. "And those threats against Potter, too?"

"Shh!" Isabelle hissed, looking around nervously to see if anyone was within earshot. "You know better than to talk about things like that here!"

"Sending sugar skulls or threatening notes is one thing," Tristan continued, although he kept his voice down to a whisper, "but Snape's son almost got killed today!"

"What do you care what happens to him?" Isabelle retorted. "His father--both of his fathers--were Death Eaters. Don't you want revenge for your cousin's death? It didn't bother you when we hexed Dylan at the other match."

Tristan didn't really know why it bothered him, either. He had no love for Theodore Snape-formerly-Nott or either of his fathers. Maybe it had been the look of sheer terror on the faces of Theodore and the other Slytherins when they had seen the Dark Mark--not the glee and smugness, or even just confusion that he might have expected. Maybe it was simply that it was harder to see things as black and white now that Uncle Amos and Master Bleddri--no, Master Diggory, now--were feuding in court. Tristan's beloved uncle claimed that his teacher was a dangerous monster, while that teacher claimed that Uncle Amos had stolen his inheritance. Tristan's mother believed Master Diggory (it was so strange, calling him by that name!), but Tristan didn't know what to believe. All he knew was that no matter how things turned out, it seemed like his family was never going to be whole again.

But it was too hard to explain all these things to Isabelle, so all Tristan said was, "Of course I want revenge, but you should have told me what you were going to do. I thought we were all in on this together. Especially if it's something dangerous."

"It was just an illusion!" Isabelle whispered irritably. "We didn't plan for anyone to get hurt. Besides, we didn't want to bother you when you were so preoccupied with your uncle's trial..."

*** 

Susan had been distracted all day. She had been frightened by the Dark Mark, the same as everyone else, but something more than that was bothering her. So when Isabelle left the room, Susan hesitated for a couple of minutes, then followed her, and found Isabelle and Tristan arguing in hushed voices in the corridor between the common room and the girls' dorm. She couldn't hear what they were saying, catching just a snippet of their conversation:

"...didn't want to bother you when you were so preoccupied with your uncle's trial..."

"Isabelle? Tristan? What's going on?" Susan asked.

Both of her friends glanced up, looking first startled, then guilty, almost wary. Then Isabelle smiled pleasantly and said, "Nothing, Tristan was just a little shaken about what happened at the match today."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Tristan nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty scary. Well, I'll see you guys later. I still haven't started my Potions homework, and even a Death Eater attack's not gonna be a good enough excuse to Snape for not turning it in."

He returned to the common room, and Susan said to Isabelle, "It seemed like you were arguing about something."

Isabelle leaned over and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Yes, well, I didn't want to say anything in front of Tristan, but...he's actually more upset about his uncle's trial than the Dark Mark. He's very angry and confused, and he's been a little out of sorts recently. He was just...what's the phrase? Blowing off a little steam, I think. I don't mind; I know it's not really me that he's mad at. And of course he doesn't want to hurt his family's feelings by telling them that he's angry with them for fighting with each other."

That sounded very logical and reasonable, but just a little too smoothly worded somehow. "Isabelle," Susan said hesitantly, "you don't know anything about the Dark Mark that was cast at the match today, do you?"

"Of course not!" Isabelle exclaimed, looking shocked, and then hurt. "How could I?"

"I just meant," Susan said hastily, "that I wondered if you had any idea who did it?"

"Well, the Slytherins, of course," Isabelle replied promptly. "Probably the same ones who sent that note to Harry. Isn't that what we've suspected all along?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Susan said. "But do you think they're all involved, or is it just a few of them?"

"I don't know," Isabelle said with a shrug, "but I assume that the children of the Death Eaters are probably involved." She smiled confidently. "Don't worry, Susan. Stewart said two of his father's Auror friends came to the match today, and I'm sure that they'll take this threat seriously and get to the bottom of it."

Susan nodded and Isabelle continued on her way to her room, but Susan was still troubled. _Isabelle is my friend,_ she told herself firmly. _She would never lie to me._ But she couldn't help but think that it was a remarkable coincidence that a threatening note had been sent to Harry right after she had expressed doubt that the Slytherins were guilty, and had said that if the Death Eaters were really involved, they would be attacking Harry Potter and the Gryffindors, not the Slytherins. But it had to be a coincidence, right? Just how far would Isabelle go to prove that the Slytherins were Death Eaters? Surely she wouldn't fabricate evidence...would she?

*** 

As they had threatened, Dawlish and Williamson spoke to the school board, which caused a minor uproar. However, most of the board still had faith in Dumbledore, who was, after all, a hero of the war, and did not try to remove him from his position. The Headmaster agreed to take some precautions, such as setting a curfew and having the staff patrol the halls in the evenings, and temporarily suspending the Quidditch matches.

The Slytherins grumbled only halfheartedly about that, because they were all shaken by the sight of the Dark Mark in the sky, even if it had turned out to be a fake. The Slytherins, especially those whose parents had been Death Eaters, had a much clearer idea of the kinds of tortures the Death Eaters used to inflict on their victims than did most of the other students, and it was enough to give them restless and unpleasant dreams. One night Draco dreamed that his father was chasing him, screaming, "I'll show you how the Death Eaters punish traitors, Draco!" as a glowing green skull loomed above them in the sky. In his dream, he stumbled, and just as his father's hands closed around him, Draco woke, sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath, his heart pounding at what felt like ten times its normal rate. It took a very long time for him to get back to sleep again.

He still felt fatigued and uneasy the next morning, and after classes were over for the day, he went to seek out Snape. He wasn't sure why; Snape wasn't exactly the type of person you would seek out to comfort you after a bad dream. But still, Snape had been a Death Eater, and somehow Draco felt that he would understand that sense of fear better than any of the other teachers, even Lupin. Maybe he just wanted reassurance that the Dark Mark really was a fake and that the Death Eaters hadn't returned. But when he got to the dungeon, Snape was already locking up his office and preparing to leave. 

"Sir?" Draco said hesitantly. "Could I talk to you for just a minute?"

"I'm sorry, Draco," Snape said distractedly. "I was on my way to the hospital wing to visit Theodore. Can it wait till later?"

"Uh...sure," Draco said. "It wasn't really important anyway." The Potions Master nodded, and hurried on his way, and Draco slowly walked to the Slytherin dorm, feeling a little sulky and disgruntled. In the old days, everyone in Slytherin had deferred to him, and he had been Snape's favored student. Now, no one paid him much heed, and he had to play second fiddle to Dylan and Theodore. He knew that he shouldn't resent them, because Dylan and Theo had remained his friends when they could have abandoned him, but it just didn't seem fair, somehow. Draco had once been first in all things, and now he felt almost like an afterthought.

"Is something wrong, Draco?" Serafina asked later that evening, when she saw him moping in the common room.

What was he supposed to say? That he was jealous because he wasn't Snape's favorite anymore? That he wished his daddy, the big bad Death Eater, was still alive so that he could push everyone in Slytherin around like he used to?

"Nothing," Draco sighed.

"Well, you can help me entertain Bast, then," Serafina said, tossing a catnip mouse onto his lap, and the kitten immediately pounced in pursuit of her toy. So Draco laughed and the two of them played with Bast, although he still continued to brood a little. Serafina noticed, but didn't say anything. She assumed that he was upset about the Dark Mark--it had scared her as well--and he was probably too proud to admit how frightened he had been. It wasn't really in her nature to pressure him to talk about it; if and when he was ready to talk, she would listen, otherwise, she would let him be.

As for Snape, he had meant to seek out Draco later and see what he wanted. But he was distracted by his concern for Theodore, and his fear of what the mysterious prankster might do next, not to mention his changed relationship with his mother which, while welcome, was still a little awkward for both of them. And with so many things on his mind, Snape completely forgot about Draco.

Draco said nothing, but deep inside of him, a tiny seed of resentment began to fester.

*** 

Takeshi Kimura was working at the charity clinic one morning with Kian, a young, dark-haired werewolf who was one of Lukas's pack members. (The unemployed werewolves worked regularly at the clinic, and even the ones who had jobs often stopped by in their free time to help out.) They were both surprised when Lukas walked through the door, clad in fine velvet robes, and Kian bounded over to greet his pack leader with a puppy-like air of eagerness.

"Wow!" Kian exclaimed. "Don't you look posh--just as fine as any of those snooty purebloods!"

"That's the idea," Lukas said dryly. "Morrigan says that I have to look like one of them if I'm going to win my case."

"You _are_ one of them," Takeshi pointed out with a smile, and Lukas gave him a sour look, as if the mediwizard had just insulted him. "Are you on your way to court, Lukas?"

"Yes, I just thought I'd stop by and say hello since I was in the neighborhood."

"I can't wait to see your mansion!" Kian said eagerly.

"You could be waiting a long time, cub," Lukas sighed. "The trial will likely drag out for months, and it's by no means certain that I'll win."

The young werewolf looked crestfallen, but he said loyally, "I'm sure you'll win, Lukas."

"I've been reading a lot of outrageous things in the Daily Prophet about Death Eaters attacking Hogwarts," Takeshi said anxiously. "I'm sure most of it's nonsense, but could you tell us what really happened, Lukas? The paper said that Theodore Snape was injured."

So Lukas explained about the pranks and the false Dark Mark. "Theodore's injury appears to have been an accident. Everyone was too distracted to pay attention to the Bludgers, and the Bludger was only doing what it was supposed to do--no one needed to hex it, as it's already enchanted to attack the nearest player." He shook his head. "Sometimes I think wizards are crazy; why would anyone want to play a game where the equipment is out to kill you?"

"No one's been killed during a Quidditch match in years," Kian protested.

"I think it must have been invented by a bunch of purebloods with too much time on their hands," Lukas continued, ignoring him. "Only the idle rich could have come up with such a silly game."

"Silly?" Kian cried indignantly.

"But Theodore is all right?" Takeshi asked impatiently. "And the other students?"

"Theodore was the only student who was hurt, and Madam Pomfrey says he'll be fine," Lukas replied, looking a little puzzled. "Didn't Aric write to tell you what happened?" 

"Ah...well..." Takeshi temporized, a sheepish look on his face.

Lukas grinned. "Still not speaking to each other, eh? Can't say I blame you; Dietrich can be an obnoxious little git at times. Well, most times, actually."

Takeshi sighed. He had deliberately been avoiding Aric ever since their argument, which he supposed was a bit childish of him. After all, he was supposed to be the more mature one. Besides, he really shouldn't hold a grudge; Aric had only been parroting what he'd learned from his parents and his peers at Durmstrang. Takeshi had certainly heard similar or even worse things from his classmates at Hogwarts, mainly the Slytherins, but the other Houses were by no means immune to bigotry. He didn't know why Aric's offhand insult, which had not even been aimed at him, should have stung so much.

"He's just a kid," Takeshi said aloud. "He doesn't know any better. He's spent his entire life having all that pureblood prejudice drilled into him by his family. But I suppose what's frustrating is that he has the potential to be so much more than just another obnoxious little git, as you put it."

"He's a talented student," Lukas agreed. "And occasionally he shows brief flashes of humanity. But not knowing any better excuses only so much. Sure, he's heard all the typical pureblood propaganda at home and school, but sooner or later you have to learn to think for yourself and take responsibility for your actions. Snape grew up in a family as prejudiced as Aric's, if not more so, but he chose to reject their values."

"I think that's because he's in love with Remus," Takeshi said, smiling a little.

"Yes, but my point is, a proper pureblood wouldn't have fallen in love with a werewolf," Lukas said. "Or at the very least, he would have made a proper marriage and continued to see his werewolf lover on the sly. Snape chose love over propriety. The Death Eaters' children chose not to follow in their fathers' footsteps. Someday Aric will have to make a choice, too. Or he could refuse to acknowledge that he has a choice--which is a choice in itself. And he's not just a kid; he's nearly a man."

"Well, I know he's a seventh-year, but--" Takeshi started to say.

"No, I meant literally," Lukas interrupted. "He turns eighteen this Sunday, at which time he'll be legally old enough to drink, get married, own property, go to prison..."

"Oh," Takeshi said, looking startled. "I didn't realize that his birthday was coming up. How did you know?"

Lukas shrugged. "I just happened to notice it when I was reading his transcript awhile back. He challenged me on the first day of class, and after that, I thought I should learn a little more about him." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, I'd better get going. I'm sure it will look bad if I'm late for my own trial."

"Why don't you stop by for lunch afterwards?" Kian suggested. "Takeshi's mum promised to send some food over."

"Thanks, but I'm not sure what time court will get out," Lukas said evasively. 

"We're not going anywhere," Kian said with a puzzled frown. "We'll save you some food, even if you're late."

"Er...it's just that...I sort of have an appointment," Lukas hedged.

Kian grinned widely. "Ah, with a woman? Who's the lucky lady?"

"It's not like that, you dolt!" Lukas snarled, flushing a little. "I'm just...going over some strategy with Morrigan, that's all."

"Ah, the lady lawyer," Kian said knowingly. "Well, she's very pretty."

"I said it's not like that!" Lukas growled. "It's strictly business, and besides, she's not my type!"

"Yes, it's difficult to picture you dating a pureblood," Kian agreed. "Although since she took your case, I suppose she can't be as prejudiced as most of them are."

Lukas turned and stalked out of the clinic without another word, slamming the door hard behind him. "What's eating him?" Kian asked in a hurt voice.

"I'm sure the trial is very stressful for him," Takeshi said gently. "And I don't think that he cares to discuss his personal life with us."

"Oh, I was just teasing him a little," Kian laughed, his good mood suddenly restored. "And besides, we're pack; everyone is always getting into everyone else's business! But you're right, Lukas doesn't like to talk about his lovelife. And our pack leader's a bit grumpy, in case you haven't noticed. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor."

"I've noticed," Takeshi said with a smile.

*** 

Lukas testified in court as to how the Diggorys and Gravenors had conspired to fake his death and hide him away on the Gravenor estate. Lamont Whitby, of course, protested that this was all hearsay and that there was no proof to support his claims.

"The fact that Master Diggory is alive should be proof enough that something is amiss," Morrigan said mildly, "since his family claimed that he was dead. But I have witnesses who will testify that Amos Diggory admitted to having a part in the scheme to cheat his nephew of his inheritance."

"Then call forth your witnesses," Madam Bones said.

"My first witness is Harry Potter," Morrigan declared dramatically, and the spectators gasped. Harry entered the room and nervously took a seat in the chain-covered chair. He had stood trial here himself once, the summer just before he'd started his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he didn't have fond memories of either the chair or the room.

"Mr. Potter," Morrigan said, "you witnessed a confrontation between Amos Diggory and Selima Snape after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match in November, did you not?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied.

"Please tell the court what you heard, Mr. Potter."

Harry squirmed in his seat slightly, and the chains rustled, clinking in a restless manner. He cast an apologetic glance at Mr. Diggory, but Cedric's father refused to meet his gaze, staring straight ahead at the Wizengamot, looking rigid and tense, as if he were fighting to hold his anger in.

"Mr. Potter?" Morrigan said gently.

Harry took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Diggory said that it would have disgraced the Diggory name if a werewolf inherited the title. And he said that Master Bleddri's--I mean, Master Diggory's father squandered the family wealth trying to buy a cure for lycanthropy. Then Lady Selima accused him of killing Master Diggory's father."

"And what did Amos Diggory say in response, Mr. Potter?" Morrigan asked.

"He denied it," Harry replied. "He seemed very upset by that accusation, and he said, 'I loved my brother, even though I thought he was a fool! I admit that my parents and I conspired with the Gravenors to fake Cyril's death, but I did not kill Cynric!'"

"Are you absolutely sure that is what he said, Mr. Potter?" Morrigan asked.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "I'm positive. I remember it clearly because it was such a shock. I had no idea that Master Bleddri was related to the Diggorys."

"Harry, do you like Master Diggory?" Morrigan asked.

Harry was startled by the question. Ms. De Lacy had talked with him before the trial, explaining the kinds of questions she intended to ask him, but this had not been one of them. "Er...I guess so," he replied, not sure how he should answer. Did she want him to tell the court that Master Diggory was a good teacher? Then he belatedly realized that his response sounded rather unenthusiastic, and hastily clarified, "I mean, he's a very strict teacher, but his classes are interesting, and I've learned a lot from them."

"Not as strict as Professor Snape, I'll bet," Morrigan said with a mischievous smile, and Harry couldn't help but grin in response, and several people in the courtroom chuckled.

Madam Bones pounded her gavel on the desk, and the laughter died away. "If you could get to the point, Ms. De Lacy?" she said impatiently.

"Mr. Potter," Morrigan said, her manner brisk and professional once more, "do you like Master Diggory well enough to lie for him?"

"No!" Harry said, even more startled by this question. "Of course not! I mean, not that I don't like him, but..."

"You would not give false testimony to help him?" Morrigan asked.

Harry finally caught on to the purpose behind her questions, and answered firmly, "No, I wouldn't."

"Do you have any grudge against the Diggory family?" Morrigan persisted. "Is there any reason you might want to hurt them, by favoring your teacher's claim over that of Amos Diggory?"

"No!" Harry protested. "I...I liked Cedric. He treated me like a friend, and we worked together to win the Triwizard Tournament. I don't want to hurt his parents. I feel bad about even being here...I don't know whose side to take. I like Master Bleddri, but I don't want to do anything to hurt Cedric's dad, either." 

Tears filled Harry's eyes, and Morrigan suppressed a smile of satisfaction. She felt a little bad about manipulating the boy like this, but his sincerity was making an obvious impression on the court. "You don't have to take sides, Harry," she said gently. "That's the Wizengamot's job. All you have to do is tell the truth."

"Everything I've said is true," Harry said softly.

"Then I have no more questions," Morrigan said.

She took her seat, and Lamont Whitby stepped up to question Harry. "Mr. Potter," he said with a pleasant smile that didn't reach his eyes, "is Professor Remus Lupin a friend of yours?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, eyeing the lawyer warily.

"He was your father's best friend, if I am not mistaken?" Whitby asked casually. "And your godfather's as well?"

"Yes," Harry said. "They all went to school together."

"And are you very close to Professor Lupin?" Whitby continued. "Do you regard him as, perhaps, an uncle?"

"I suppose so," Harry replied cautiously.

"Professor Lupin is a werewolf," Whitby said, still with that false smile. "As is Master Bleddri--" He paused, then continued in a voice tinged with sarcasm, "Excuse me, I mean, Master Diggory. Who is also a friend of Professor Lupin's, I believe."

"Yes, but--" Harry said, beginning to see where Whitby was going with this.

"Perhaps you would not lie to help Master Diggory," Whitby practically purred. "But might you not be tempted to stretch the truth a little in order to help your late father's dear friend?"

"How does helping Master Diggory help Professor Lupin?" Harry demanded.

"Professor Lupin has led a life of hardship and poverty because of his lycanthropy," Whitby replied. "It would be a great triumph for all werewolves if Master Diggory became the head of an old, respected, and wealthy family. And of course I'm sure that the Professor would like to see his friend win an inheritance."

"I didn't lie!" Harry said hotly.

"Not even to help a friend?" Whitby asked.

"No!" Harry insisted.

"Are you telling me that you've never lied before, Mr. Potter?" Whitby asked skeptically. "Not even, say, to avoid getting into trouble at school because of some boyish mischief or prank?" Whitby grinned in a genial manner as Harry flushed. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Potter; all boys get up to a little harmless mischief."

"I wouldn't lie about something this important!" Harry said.

"You wouldn't lie about something important?" Whitby asked, his face serious now. "Not even to save someone's life or correct an injustice? You didn't lie to help your godfather escape capture when he was a fugitive? Or lie to Headmistress Umbridge about participating in an illegal secret society?"

"Sirius was innocent!" Harry protested. "And in the D.A., we were just learning spells to protect ourselves--"

"Oh, I'm sure you had good reasons," Whitby said soothingly. "Perhaps you thought you had good reason for helping Master Diggory--"

"I'm not lying!" Harry shouted.

"I must object," Morrigan said, rising to her feet. "Is Mr. Whitby calling Mr. Potter's integrity into question? May I remind the court that Mr. Potter defeated Lord Voldemort at great risk to his own life?"

"No one is questioning Mr. Potter's bravery or heroism," Whitby said. "I'm only saying that a young boy might be a little misguided, with the best of intentions..."

"Mr. Potter," Madam Bones said, "are you absolutely certain that your testimony is accurate?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said firmly.

"You did not, as Mr. Whitby phrased it, stretch the truth a little, either of your own will or at someone else's urging?"

"No, ma'am!" Harry said emphatically. "I felt bad about testifying against Mr. Diggory, but Professor Lupin, Ms. De Lacy, my godfather, and my..." He faltered a little, as he sought the right word to describe Professor Blackmore. "...my stepmother all told me to tell the truth. No one asked me to lie."

"Very well, then," Bones said. "You have Mr. Potter's statement, Mr. Whitby. I suggest you move on to a different line of questioning."

"No further questions," Whitby said sullenly.

"I have one more question for Mr. Potter," Morrigan said. "Why wouldn't you lie to help Master Diggory, if it would help all werewolves and make Professor Lupin happy?"

Harry stared at her in confusion. "Because...it wouldn't make him happy, ma'am. I mean, I'm sure he'd like to see Master Diggory get his inheritance, but he wouldn't want to do it in an underhanded way. He said it wasn't up to me to determine Mr. Diggory's guilt or innocence, and that I should just tell the truth about what I heard. He told me that I didn't have to take sides." He thought of how hard Lupin had tried to be fair to the Slytherins, and of how he had disapproved of the pranks that James and Sirius used to play. "I think...I think he'd be disappointed in me if I lied."

"And Professor Lupin's opinion means a lot to you, Harry?" Morrigan asked quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said firmly.

"No further questions," Morrigan said with a satisfied smile. She called a few more witnesses, including a couple of Hogwarts staff members who testified to hearing the same thing that Harry had, and upon further questioning, stated that while they respected Master Diggory as a colleague, they were not particularly close to him.

"He's polite, but keeps to himself," Professor Vector explained. "He doesn't socialize much with the staff, except perhaps Professor Lupin and Professor Snape."

"Werewolves stick together," Whitby said, sneering a little.

"I suppose so," Vector replied, giving him a distasteful look. "Now, if we're done here, I have a class to teach."

Morrigan's last witness was Dumbledore. Whitby made a point of noting that the Headmaster was friendly with Master Diggory and had personally brought him on the staff, but didn't quite dare to accuse Dumbledore of lying. "No further questions," Whitby said in a resigned voice, tacitly admitting defeat. After a brief, whispered consultation with his client, Whitby called Amos Diggory to the stand.

"Mr. Diggory," he asked, "did you conspire to fake your nephew's death?"

"Yes, I did," Amos replied in a level voice.

"So Harry Potter is not a liar after all," Morrigan said in a tart voice.

Madam Bones rapped her gavel sharply on her desk. "That will be enough, Ms. De Lacy," she said sternly. "You will have a chance to question the witness later."

"I beg the court's pardon," Morrigan murmured, bowing her head in a show of contrition--and to hide the faint smile that crossed her lips.

Whitby glared at her, then continued, "And why did you do that, Mr. Diggory?"

"To protect my family, and Cyril himself," Amos replied. Lukas snorted contemptuously, and Morrigan placed her hand on his arm and shook her head slightly as Madam Bones gave him a disapproving look. The werewolf subsided, but glared at his uncle.

"What do you mean, Mr. Diggory?" Whitby asked innocently.

"My brother broke the law when he did not register Cyril as a werewolf with the Ministry," Amos explained. "Perhaps things are a little different now, but back then, werewolves were feared and despised, and regarded as monsters. Cynric wanted his son to pass as human, to avoid him being ostracized by society, and also to avoid tarnishing the family reputation. But as Cyril grew older, it became harder and harder to hide his lycanthropy, to explain why he wasn't going to school. Then my brother was killed in an accident...and well, I know what we did was wrong, but I was afraid that the Ministry might punish my family if they knew that we had been harboring an unregistered werewolf." 

He added virtuously, "I did not care about myself so much, but my parents were in poor health, and I was afraid that they would not survive a trial and possible prison sentence, or even just the stress and humiliation of a public reprimand." A few members of the Wizengamot made sympathetic noises, and Lukas's face turned red with anger. Morrigan whispered into his ear, urging him to remain calm.

"You were concerned about Cyril also?" Whitby prompted.

"Yes," Amos said. "I was afraid that the Ministry might take him away, lock him up in Azkaban or some institution. But neither was my family equipped to deal with a werewolf--you must understand, there was no Wolfsbane Potion back then, no way to safely control a werewolf during the full moon." He shuddered. "If you have ever heard the sound of a werewolf's howls, the sound of him hurling himself against the door so hard that it seemed it would break off its hinges...and that was when Cyril was just a child. Can you imagine trying to deal with a full-grown werewolf?"

"You liar!" Lukas shouted, jumping to his feet. "You never even came near me during the full moon! We moved out of the mansion when I was four years old, because your parents wouldn't allow a werewolf to live in their home!"

"Master Diggory!" Madam Bones cried, pounding the gavel loudly. "You will restrain yourself if you do not want be found in contempt of court!"

Morrigan grabbed Lukas's arm and hissed, "Stop it! You're playing right into their hands!"

Lukas looked over and saw Whitby's and Amos's smug smiles. He took a deep breath, then bowed in the direction of the Wizengamot, and said, "I apologize for losing my temper." 

Bones nodded curtly, and Arthur Weasley gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "Take your seat then, Master Diggory. And I expect there to be no further interruptions; your lawyer will have a chance to challenge the veracity of Mr. Diggory's statements, if you feel they are in doubt."

"Yes, ma'am," Lukas said through gritted teeth as Amos and Whitby continued to smirk, then bowed again and took his seat.

"Now, if you can pick up where you left off, before you were so rudely interrupted?" Whitby said pointedly, and Bones frowned, giving him a look of warning.

"We did not want Cyril to be taken away--he could have been imprisoned, or even put down, as an unregistered werewolf," Amos replied promptly. "On the other hand, we didn't feel that we were equipped to deal with restraining a werewolf during the full moon. And my sister-in-law was in a state of shock following my brother's death; she was clearly not up to handling the problem, either. My in-laws, the Gravenors, had a country estate in Wales, and they offered to shelter both Anya and Cyril. It was far from civilization, and it would be much easier to hide a werewolf there. We told everyone that Cyril had died in the accident with his father, so that no one would wonder why he had disappeared."

"So you left your nephew in the custody of his maternal grandparents, believing that he was in a place where he would be well-cared for by his family, yet not a danger to anyone else?" Whitby asked.

Amos nodded. "Yes. I know that we broke the law, but it seemed like the best thing to do at the time, to protect both my family and Cyril."

"No further questions," Whitby said.

Morrigan stood and walked over to question Amos. "To protect Cyril?" she asked sarcastically. "Wasn't it actually to protect your family's reputation? Didn't you say at the Quidditch match that it would have disgraced the family name if a werewolf inherited the title?" Amos hesitated, as if trying to decide whether or not he should try to deny it. "I can call back my witnesses to jog your memory," Morrigan offered helpfully.

Amos glared at her. "Yes, that would have disgraced my family. Back then, lycanthropy was regarded as something shameful. Many people still think it is."

"Including you?" Morrigan asked. Amos remained silent, and she did not press him, but moved on to her next question. "So, this is more about the inheritance than about a desire to protect your nephew, isn't it? Isn't it true that your brother was first in line to inherit the title? But when he died, and his son was conveniently declared dead and spirited away, you became the heir instead."

"I didn't do it for the title!" Amos insisted. "I did it to protect my family!"

"But Cyril is the son of the eldest son of the Diggory clan, so he should have inherited the title, not you."

"That's not true!" Amos snarled. "The eldest son is customarily the heir, but the head of the clan can choose someone else if he wishes! My father wanted to disown Cynric, but my dear brother threatened to go public with Cyril's lycanthropy if he did! He said he would tell everyone that the lycanthropy came from our side of the family, even though no one knew for sure where it came from!"

"Weren't you also concerned about the amount of money that Cynric was wasting, trying to buy cures for his son's lycanthropy?" Morrigan demanded. "Didn't you say that he was squandering the family wealth? I don't hear a great deal of love and concern in your words, Mr. Diggory--at least, not for your brother and nephew. It sounds like you were more concerned about preserving the family fortune."

"I was concerned that there would not be enough money left to support my parents in their old age, yes," Amos said, glaring at Morrigan hatefully. "I often fought with my brother, and we never saw eye-to-eye, but..." His voice shook, and tears gleamed in his eyes. "But he was still my brother, and I loved him. I was devastated when he died."

"So devastated," Morrigan said skeptically, "that you immediately faked your nephew's death and shipped him off to the Welsh countryside."

"For his own protection!" Amos protested.

"For his own protection," Morrigan said softly, "Cyril and his mother were imprisoned in a small, leaky cottage where they had no contact with other people, where they were not even allowed to visit their relatives in the nearby Gravenor mansion, where Anya Diggory fell ill and died for lack of medical care?"

"I didn't know anything about that!" Amos said defensively. "The Gravenors were supposed to be taking care of them!"

"You never once visited the nephew you claim to have been so concerned about?" Morrigan asked relentlessly. "You never once stopped by to make sure that he was being well cared for? You never once stopped by to comfort your brother's widow in her grief?"

Amos flushed. "The thought of seeing them brought back painful memories of my brother," he said. "I regretted that Cynric died while we were still at odds with each other. So I did not visit my nephew and sister-in-law. That is shameful on my part, perhaps, but Anya was the Gravenors' daughter. I assumed that they would take good care of her and Cyril."

"And when Cyril ran away, after Anya died?" Morrigan persisted. "Didn't you think that you should find your nephew, to make sure that he would be protected--or at least to protect the public from an unregistered werewolf on the loose?"

"I--I didn't know about that," Amos said quickly. "The Gravenors said that Anya and Cyril both died of the same illness. I never saw the body, but I had no reason to believe that they were lying. We couldn't have another funeral for him, since he had already been publicly declared dead."

"Very convenient," Morrigan drawled, "how Cyril keeps dying. And it's also very convenient that the Gravenors are dead and unable to contest your version of events."

"Believe it or not, it's the truth!" Amos snapped.

"So you say," Morrigan said with obvious sarcasm.

"Objection!" shouted Whitby.

"Was that a question, Ms. De Lacy?" Bones asked, a note of warning in her voice.

"No, ma'am," Morrigan replied. "I'll move on. Mr. Diggory, as you can see, your nephew is not dead. If you were as concerned about him as you claimed to be, should you not be overjoyed? He is no longer a danger to himself or anyone else, thanks to the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion. Your objection to Cyril inheriting the title is no longer valid, so should you not cede the title to him?"

"I will not!" shouted Amos. "I promised my parents that I would protect the family honor and that I would never let Cynric's son inherit the title!"

"Master Diggory cannot be denied the title simply because he is a werewolf," Morrigan said. "Werewolves are now equal to humans under the law."

"Cynric was not worthy of the title!" Amos shouted. "He blackmailed and threatened my parents, he broke the law many times over--not just by failing to register Cyril, but by purchasing illegal potions every time some swindler claimed to have a cure for lycanthropy, and he wasted not just his own money, but the family fortune on those potions, most of which were useless!"

"Even if what you say is true," Morrigan said, "those sound like the actions of a loving parent, desperate to help his only son, who was suffering from a debilitating disease. And even if that is reason enough to deny Cynric the title, Cyril was only a child at the time. He did nothing wrong."

"Did nothing wrong?" Amos asked incredulously. "I've heard that he was a criminal--a thief and a smuggler and Merlin knows what else!"

"'You've heard'?" Morrigan asked mockingly. "As I recall, your lawyer objected to what he called 'hearsay'."

"Those are serious accusations, Mr. Diggory," Bones said sternly. "Do you have any proof to back them up?"

Amos looked at Whitby, who hesitated, then said, "Not yet, Madam Bones, but we are in the process of gathering evidence to prove that Master Diggory is unfit to inherit the title."

"Very well," Bones said. "When you have such evidence, you may present it, but until then, the court judges only evidence, not unfounded rumors."

As Amos fumed, Morrigan smiled and said, "I have no more questions for Mr. Diggory."

Neither side had any more witnesses to call, so court was adjourned for the day.

"We didn't do too badly," Morrigan told Lukas. "Harry's testimony went very well; Lamont was a fool to try and call him a liar. It only made Amos look like the liar, to deny what he said, and then be forced to admit that he did say it after all. And it became pretty clear in court today that Amos is a bigot; unfortunately, half of the Wizengamot shares that bigotry. And also, if Amos's unfounded rumors about you are inadmissible, so are your suspicions that your father may have been murdered. We can prove that Amos faked your death, but we can't prove that the Gravenors mistreated you and tried to kill you. Everyone involved is dead, except for Amos, so it's your word against his." She gave him a stern look. "And you mustn't lose control like that again! I told you before, it will only give credence to Amos's claims that you are a beast."

"I'm sorry," Lukas muttered. "It was hard, having to sit there and listen to all those lies."

"I know," Morrigan said sympathetically. "But your behavior must be beyond reproach, since at least half of the people in that courtroom don't think you're really human." She smiled. "Bear with it for the duration of the trial, and then you can laugh in their faces when you're named Lord Diggory."

"You're right," Lukas said. "I won't lose control again. And I really appreciate everything you're doing for me."

"No need to thank me," Morrigan said with a smile. "It's my job, and Lady Selima is paying me quite well, I assure you. By the way, we'll have to come up with a way to counter Lamont, if he can come up with proof of your past illegal activities. Your status as a war hero will help cancel that out, but still..."

"Don't worry," Lukas said with a sly grin. "I have an idea."

Morrigan laughed when he explained his idea to her. "Of course! I should have thought of that myself!" She glanced at her watch. "Would you like to discuss it over lunch?"

"Er...I was supposed to meet a friend for lunch," Lukas said. "Is it all right if I owl the information to your office later?"

"Of course," Morrigan replied, giving Lukas a smile that was a little too knowing for his comfort. I'll see you next week, then, Master Diggory."

Lukas headed to the Leaky Cauldron, wondering why everyone and his mother suddenly seemed to be interested in his personal life. Increasing his irritation was the fact that the innkeeper smiled knowingly when he asked for a private room. This was the third week in a row that he was meeting Narcissa here, and he supposed that it must be obvious that he was having an assignation, even if no one knew Narcissa's identity, as she was careful to come in disguise. They might have to find a new meeting place--in fact, it would probably be wiser to break the whole thing off.

But then Narcissa walked into the room, and his bad mood suddenly vanished as the wolf's heart leapt with joy. That was bad; the mere sight of this arrogant, spoiled pureblood woman should not make him so happy. Never before had the human half of him been so divided from the wolf. But then Narcissa stepped forward and kissed him, and the wolf took over. He returned the kiss, his tongue sliding between her parted lips, his hands caressing her breasts and tugging at the fastenings of her robes.

_This is only sex, nothing more!_ Lukas told himself almost desperately, before the desire of the wolf overwhelmed him and temporarily obliterated all trace of rational thought.

*** 

Madam Pomfrey deemed Theodore well enough to move back into the dorm and resume classes, although she said that he should take it easy for at least another week--which meant no Physical Defense classes and no Quidditch practice. He was pleased about the former, and expressed disappointment about the latter, but Snape thought that he actually looked a little relieved. Theodore still seemed shaken--not so much by nearly getting killed by the Bludger, but by the false Dark Mark, which must have brought back unpleasant memories of the Death Eaters and his parents. He didn't actually say so, but Snape could see the shadows lurking in the boy's eyes, and he silently cursed the perpetrator of the prank for having tainted the simple pleasure and joy that Theodore took in playing Quidditch.

But he said nothing, not wanting to upset his son further. And at least Theodore seemed happy to be returning back to the dorm, where he was enthusiastically greeted by his friends and foster brother.

Having seen Theodore safely to the dorm after dinner, Snape returned to his quarters with Lupin, lit the fireplace with a flick of his wand, then sank down onto the couch with a small sigh of relief. It had been an exhausting ordeal, and this was the first night since the Quidditch match that he and Lupin would be spending in the comfort of their own rooms. Dumbledore had laid powerful protections upon the hospital wing, but Snape was paranoid as only a former Death Eater and spy could be, and he hadn't wanted to leave Theodore there alone at night, so he and Lupin had been sleeping in the hospital wing. Originally they were going to take turns spending the night there, but Snape found that his quarters just seemed too empty and lonely without Lupin there, and Lupin felt the same way, so they both ended up sleeping in the hospital wing until Theodore recovered.

"It's nice to have things returning to normal," Lupin sighed, and he flopped down on the couch and stretched out, laying his head in Snape's lap. Snape reached down to stroke Lupin's long, silky hair, and Lupin made a small noise of contentment, then turned his head slightly and pressed his lips against Snape's thigh. Snape gasped as the heat of that kiss seemed to burn through the cloth of his trousers and travel in a straight line to his groin. Lupin looked up and said with an impish grin, "And as much as I love Theo, it's also nice to have some privacy," then continued to kiss his way up and down Snape's thigh. 

A low, soft moan escaped from Snape's lips, and Lupin slid off the couch and knelt in front of his lover, gently pushing apart Snape's legs and playfully brushing his lips across the already visible bulge that was straining against the black cloth of the Potions Master's trousers. Snape moaned again, more loudly this time, and Lupin smiled in satisfaction and deftly unfastened Snape's trousers. 

"Ah..." Snape gasped as Lupin's nimble fingers freed his erection from the restraining cloth, gently stroking and teasing. Then the werewolf's lips and tongue replaced his fingers, and if Snape had not been leaning against the couch, he probably would have collapsed in ecstasy as he felt himself slowly being drawn into Lupin's mouth, a delicious sensation of being enveloped in warmth and wetness.

Lupin paused and pulled back so that he could see his lover's face, head tilted back and eyes closed, dark lashes resting against pale skin. Severus hardly ever closed his eyes when they made love, and it pleased Lupin to see him lost in the pleasure of the moment, giving up his self-control for once. Severus had been exhausted with worry and anger ever since the Quidditch match on Saturday, and Lupin wanted to give him comfort, let him relax and forget his worries, even if for only a little while--and this seemed like the simplest way to do it. The Potions Master didn't let his guard down often, except in bed. Well, technically they weren't exactly in bed, but close enough, Lupin figured.

However, while Lupin was sitting back admiring his handiwork, Snape's eyes opened and focused on him, giving him a look that was halfway between a plea and a glare. "Why did you stop?" he demanded, and his cranky tone made Lupin laugh affectionately.

"I was just trying to decide what to do next, my love," Lupin purred in a sultry voice that made Snape raise his eyebrows. 

"Is it getting close to the full moon again?" Snape asked, trying to figure out how many days had passed since the last full moon, but he was finding it a little difficult to concentrate in his current condition.

"You will have to begin brewing the Wolfsbane Potion again in a few days, yes," Lupin said, his blue eyes glowing with both love and lust. "But I think the fact that we haven't had sex since before the Quidditch match might have something to do with it, too."

"Oh, right," Snape said. They'd been sleeping in the hospital wing, which obviously meant no sex at night, and they'd been too busy and stressed to even have a quickie between classes during the day.

"In fact," Lupin said, rising to his feet and slowly undressing as Snape watched as if spellbound, "I think it's the longest dry spell we've had since I started teaching at Hogwarts again." He climbed onto Snape's lap and slowly began to lower himself down. "So I would say that we need to make up for lost time."

"Lupin, wait," Snape protested, not very coherently. "I'm not...you're not...oh!"

Lupin didn't care about the lack of preparation or the fact that Severus was still--mostly--dressed. This had started out as a means to comfort and distract Severus, but now Lupin found that his teasing words were true, and that the wolf was eager and hungry after that "dry spell". He continued to push downwards, wincing at the slight pain of being stretched open and filled, while growling in pleasure at the same time. As he had told Severus more than once, werewolves were resilient, and besides, the wolf found a small amount of pain titillating. 

As if reading Lupin's mind, Severus gave up his feeble protests and leaned forward, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin of Lupin's throat, sending another surge of pleasure-pain through his body. Lupin whined, nipping at his lover's throat in turn, but Severus's high-collared robes got in his way. It was a little frustrating, but at the same time, the feeling of his bare skin sliding against the plush wool of Severus's robes was strangely sensuous and exciting. He leaned forward, deliberately pressing his chest against Severus's, and he laid his head on Severus's shoulder for a moment, rubbing his cheek against the soft wool there. 

Then the wolf took over, and Lupin growled and whined, his voice filled with growing urgency. He resumed moving up and down, but faster now, grinding down hard into Severus's lap, pain giving way to pleasure, until that pleasure in turn grew almost painful in its intensity. Severus tried to thrust upwards every now and then, but his position on the couch made it difficult, so mostly he leaned back and let Lupin ride him, groaning almost helplessly. That sound further enflamed Lupin's inner wolf, and he threw back his head and howled his pleasure out loud. Severus suddenly bit down hard on Lupin's exposed throat, and the world around him seemed to explode in a blinding flash of ecstasy.

It was no wonder that the French called an orgasm "the little death," Lupin thought to himself when consciousness returned. He slumped against Severus's chest, panting softly, and the Potions Master reached up to stroke Lupin's hair, his own labored breathing echoing Lupin's.

"You couldn't even wait for me to get my clothes off?" Snape asked, chuckling.

"The wolf was impatient," said Lupin, nibbling gently on Snape's earlobe. "However," he added, undoing the fastenings on Snape's robes, "I believe that we can remedy that situation now."

"Ah...Lupin?" Snape said, looking startled.

Lupin gave him a cheerfully lascivious grin in response. "Why, Sev, you didn't think that we were done here, did you?" he asked. "We have a great deal of lost time to make up for...but don't worry, I'll give you sufficient time to recover." His grin grew wider. "Although I hope you don't take too long."

Snape laughed and wrapped his arms around Lupin. "I suppose there's no point in arguing with a hormonal werewolf."

"None at all," Lupin agreed, and indeed, he kept the Potions Master very busy all that night, and for at least a few hours, Death Eaters, Aurors, and dangerous pranks were the furthest thing from their minds.

*** 

On Sunday morning, Aric sat at the Slytherin table, pushing his food around his plate with his fork, feeling grumpy and a little depressed. It was his birthday, but nobody here knew or cared about it. Well, actually, Theo probably knew, but Aric certainly wasn't expecting to get a birthday present from his cousin. If he'd been at Durmstrang, his friends would've given him presents and thrown a party for him. Last year, they'd snuck out after hours and one of his friends had somehow managed to smuggle a bottle of Firewhiskey into the school. They grew a bit too boisterous under the influence of the Firewhiskey, though, and they had just barely managed to escape discovery--and detention--by fleeing back to the dorms before the teachers caught them.

The Dietrich family owl arrived and dropped off a few packages--the usual presents from his parents and grandparents, which didn't really cheer him up very much. Another owl arrived with a card and a pouch of Galleons from his sister. She offered to put in a good word for him if he wanted to work at Gringotts after graduation; Aric hadn't yet told his family that he wanted to become a mediwizard, because he wasn't sure they'd approve. 

It was a respectable job, to be sure, but they probably would prefer that he take a high-paying job at Gringotts like Erika, or even apply to the Ministry of Magic. It was every Slytherin's dream to get a job at the Ministry and perhaps work their way up to Minister of Magic someday. Of course, Rafe had been a mediwizard, but Rafe had also been a Gryffindor, the opposite of everything that his family stood for, yet he had managed to get away with it, thanks to his incredible charm. Tears stung his eyes, and Aric quickly blinked them away; he was absolutely not going to cry in front of all his housemates! 

"Is it your birthday or something, Dietrich?" Patrick Parkinson asked curiously, which provided a welcome distraction by startling Aric and cutting off his train of thought.

"Yeah," Aric replied gruffly.

"Another year older, another year more obnoxious," Draco sneered.

"Well, you should know, Malfoy," Aric sneered back. "You seem to be an expert on being obnoxious."

Several students laughed, and Draco turned red with anger. "Oh, don't mind him," Dylan said dismissively. "Who cares what he thinks?" He changed the subject to Quidditch, and soon he and Draco and several other boys got into a spirited debate on the merits of their favorite professional teams, and who was likely to win the League Cup this year.

No one wished Aric a happy birthday. No one even bothered to argue with him. The other Slytherins were wrapped up in conversations of their own; they all had their own little groups and cliques, of which Aric was not a part. It made him feel suddenly small and insignificant, like a nobody, and he hated that feeling. Being insulted was far preferable to being ignored, and Aric was tempted to pick a fight with Malfoy or Theo when another owl flew into the Great Hall and dropped a package in front of him.

Puzzled, Aric picked it up to see who it was from, and his spirits suddenly lifted when he recognized the return address in London. Inside the package were two small gift-wrapped items and a card. The first gift was a tiny bag made of brocaded cloth, embroidered with Japanese characters that Aric couldn't read, and the other was a small onyx carving of a howling wolf. 

The card read: "Happy birthday, Aric. Since your N.E.W.T.s are coming up, I got you an omamori, a Japanese good-luck charm; this one is specifically for luck in passing exams, which hopefully will come in handy. Anyway, I figured it couldn't hurt! The wolf is a charm for strength and courage; they've become very popular lately, and seem to have been inspired by the heroism of our werewolf friends. Keep it as a reminder of the work you've done here at the clinic for us. I hope you'll be able to volunteer again for us sometime--although I hope it won't be because you have detention! Hope you have a happy birthday at Hogwarts. Takeshi."

There was no mention of their argument over Theo, no hint of censure, just the same tone of good-natured humor that Takeshi's letters usually contained. Apparently the mediwizard had decided to forgive him. Aric slipped the good-luck charms into his pocket, feeling so relieved that he completely forgot that he had (in his mind) done nothing that required forgiveness.

Takeshi's gifts had attracted the attention of some of the other students. "What are those?" Malcolm Baddock asked.

"Good-luck charms," Aric replied casually. "Just a gift from a friend."

"I didn't know you had any," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Those wolf charms are the in thing right now," Yvonne declared, temporarily forgetting that she was supposed to be mad at Aric. "I want to get one, but something prettier and more delicate--maybe clear crystal or rose quartz."

Theodore, for some reason, looked amused. "They're charms to give one the strength and courage of a wolf. It would sort of be defeating the point to make one that was delicate." 

"Well, I still want a pretty one," Yvonne said stubbornly, then frowned. "Mummy and Daddy won't buy me one, though." She glanced at the head table where Lupin was sitting; he was gazing at the Slytherin table, a smile on his face. Yvonne lowered her voice, whispering, "Because they don't approve of werewolves. They won't listen when I tell them how nice Professor Lupin is."

Aric wondered how Theo knew about the wolf charms, then decided that he must have heard about them from Lupin, if the charms had been inspired by werewolves. He shrugged it off and began eating his breakfast with more appetite. Another owl arrived, bearing several birthday cards from his friends at Durmstrang, which cheered him up further.

He did some studying in the library and then, despite the chill air, threw on a warm cloak and went up to the Astronomy Tower to write some letters to his friends and family. He wanted to avoid his housemates, most of whom he disliked as much as they disliked him, and besides, this was practically a balmy spring day compared to the weather at Durmstrang. He was nearly done when a house-elf appeared before him, carrying a small plate that contained a cupcake with a single lit candle stuck in it. The house-elf held out the plate to him and Aric stared at it in surprise, not just because of the cupcake, but because the elf was wearing clothing--mismatched sweater, hat, and socks. He realized that it must be the Malfoys' former house-elf, Dobby, who had been freed by Harry Potter.

Dobby held out the plate, and Aric just stared at it in confusion, wondering if this was some sort of Hogwarts tradition. Maybe they gave every student a special treat on his or her birthday, but Aric had certainly never noticed it happening before. For that matter, the house-elves almost never showed themselves to the students, except for the ones who snuck into the kitchen to cadge treats.

"What is this?" he asked.

"For Mr. Dietrich from Professor Lupin," Dobby said. "Professor Lupin says 'happy birthday'." 

Feeling a little dazed, Aric took the plate and the house-elf scampered off. He stared at the cupcake, thinking to himself that it was just the sort of silly Gryffindorish thing one might expect Lupin to do. Honestly, a birthday cupcake--wasn't he a little old for that? Did the werewolf think he was still a first-year or something?

Still, he could use a snack, and there was no point in wasting an edible and very tasty-looking cupcake (chocolate, his favorite). He shrugged and said, "Happy birthday to me," blew out the candle, and took a bite. He had to admit that the food at Hogwarts was far superior to the food at Durmstrang. He munched on the cupcake and finished his letters, thinking to himself that maybe this birthday hadn't really been so bad after all.

*** 

Lupin went for a stroll after classes were over one afternoon. Severus was busy testing potions, and the boys were doing some research in the library, so Lupin's time was his own. There was still snow on the ground, but the day was sunny and clear, much too nice to spend cooped up indoors. Besides, it was close to the full moon, and the wolf was feeling restless.

A few of the younger students were having a snowball fight in the courtyard, and Lupin smiled and waved at them as he passed by, but didn't stop to join in. After all the unpleasant excitement following the Quidditch match, things had finally begun to die down, and Lupin felt the need for a little peaceful solitude.

His meanderings took him by the lake, although he normally avoided it, since it tended to bring back unpleasant memories of the time that James and Sirius had attacked Severus there, and of how Lupin had failed to stop them. It did look very beautiful, though, with a sheet of glistening ice covering the water. He paused to admire the view, then noticed someone sitting on a large rock beside the lake. It was Isabelle Laroque, bundled up in thick, warm robes, staring out pensively across the frozen water, chin resting in her hands, elbows propped up on her knees. 

She didn't seem to notice him, and Lupin was suddenly struck by the thought that this was probably the first time that he had caught her in such an unguarded moment. Normally the Hufflepuffs were quite straightforward and open, but now that he thought about it, Isabelle reminded him more of the Slytherins and the way they tended to present a mask to the world. Isabelle was always smiling, always polite and respectful, yet Lupin never really knew what she was thinking, and he didn't know her any better than he had at the start of term. He hesitated for a moment over whether to intrude on her privacy or not, then decided that this might be an opportunity to get to know her a little better. He knew that Severus considered her a suspect in the string of pranks, although this was more guilt by association due to her uncles' murders and her friendship with Stewart than anything reflecting on her behavior, which was so far impeccable. 

He walked forward and said, "Hello, Isabelle."

She looked up, startled, and said, "Oh, good afternoon, Professor. I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I didn't mean to sneak up on you," Lupin said with a smile. "I tend to walk quietly; it seems to be a werewolf trait." She gave him a polite, noncommittal smile, and Lupin added, "You really shouldn't be out here alone this far from the castle. Normally it wouldn't be a problem, but with things the way they are now..."

Isabelle nodded and said, "I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to be by myself for a little while and...think."

Lupin smiled. "I guess we had the same impulse, then. And I know it can be hard to find privacy in the dorms." He crouched down next to her, the wolf resting easily in what might have been an uncomfortable position for a human. "I'm sorry to intrude, but would you mind a little company?"

"Of course not," Isabelle said politely. 

"Actually, in a way, I'm glad to have run into you out here," Lupin said. "We haven't really had a chance to talk. Your uncles were friends of mine..."

"Yes, you were all in the Order of the Phoenix. Maman--I mean, Mother told me."

"We can speak French if you like," Lupin said in that language, and Isabelle gave him another startled look. "My parents emigrated here from France before I was born," he explained, "and I grew up speaking French at home."

"Thank you," Isabelle replied, "but I should get used to speaking English now that I live in England."

"It's a big change, moving to a new country and a new school," Lupin said sympathetically. "It must be difficult, but you seem to have adapted very well."

"It wasn't really that hard," Isabelle said with a shrug. "Mother always wanted to come back to England someday, so we mostly spoke English at home, although of course I spoke French at Beauxbatons. She was overjoyed when the war finally ended, because it was always her dream that I be able to attend her old school."

"You must miss your friends at Beauxbatons, though," Lupin said. 

"Yes, but I've made many new friends here," Isabelle replied. "Everyone in Hufflepuff has been very nice to me and tried hard to make me feel welcome."

"Loyalty to one's housemates is a Hufflepuff trait," Lupin said.

"Yes, that's what Mother said, too," Isabelle agreed. "I'm happy to be in Mother's House. Gabrielle is much more homesick than I am, and comforting her makes me miss home less, somehow."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lupin said. "But if you ever need someone to talk to, please feel free to stop by my office."

"Thank you," Isabelle said in a voice that was perfectly polite and respectful, yet managed to convey the impression that she was never going to take Lupin up on his offer. Lupin was disappointed, but he had encountered similar--and sometimes less polite--resistance when he had first tried to befriend the Slytherins. What puzzled Lupin a little was how cautious and guarded Isabelle was for a child who had not experienced the war firsthand. 

It was true that her uncles had been murdered by Death Eaters, but they had died before she was born. Also, Voldemort's reach had not extended as far as France, so she would have grown up in relative peace and safety. Of course, some of the French wizards and witches, such as Madame Maxime, had realized that Voldemort would eventually become a threat to them, too, if he was not stopped, but most of them had not even really believed that the Dark Lord had returned. Of course, Emilie had lived through the war, and had probably conveyed her fears to her daughter, but most people had a hard time truly believing in something they had never experienced themselves. 

Isabelle stood up, and Lupin thought she was going to walk away, but she hesitated at the last moment and asked, "You said that you were friends with my uncles--can you tell me a little about what they were like?"

Lupin rose to his feet and walked alongside her as they slowly headed back to the castle. "Well, your Uncle Gideon was a Gryffindor, so I knew him a little better than Fabian, who was a Hufflepuff. Fabian was a typical Hufflepuff, serious and hardworking, steadfast and loyal. He would have given the last coin in his pocket and the clothes off his back to a friend in need. He was the oldest child, so perhaps that's why he was always so responsible. As for Gideon, he was impulsive and adventurous--perhaps a little too much so for his own good, like most Gryffindors. He tended to act on his impulses without stopping to think about them, like the time he was dating a girl in Ravenclaw and tried to sneak up to her room--by scaling the outside of the Tower, since he didn't have the password to enter the dormitory from inside the castle. He slipped and fell, but fortunately it was winter at the time, and the snow broke his fall, so he only suffered a broken leg. Professor McGonagall told him that she was sure he would have broken his skull as well, if it had not been so thick."

Isabelle actually giggled a little. "Mother said Uncle Gideon used to get into lots of mischief, but she never told me that story."

"Well, it happened before Emilie entered Hogwarts," Lupin said. "How is your mother doing, Isabelle? I didn't have much of a chance to speak to her at the Yule Ball."

"She's very happy to be back home, sir," Isabelle replied. "She's spending a lot of time getting caught up with some of her old friends."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lupin said. "And your father? How is he adjusting to life in England?"

"Papa worked at the French branch of Gringotts, and he was able to get a transfer here," Isabelle replied. "He says that as long as Mother is happy, he's happy, too."

"He must love her very much," Lupin said.

Isabelle smiled, with a little more warmth than she normally showed. "Yes, he adores Mother. Papa says he fell in love with her at first sight." By this time, they had reached the castle, and Isabelle said, "Well, thank you for walking me back, Professor. I promise I'll be more careful next time."

She headed off in the direction of the library, and Lupin headed to his quarters, lost in thought. Isabelle's guardedness bothered him, because it indicated that she might have something to hide. It could be merely the natural reserve of a student adjusting to a new school, but Lupin thought it was more than that. And if she was hiding something, was it a personal problem, or was she really involved with the pranks that had hurt Dylan and Theo? 

It was difficult to picture the quiet, well-behaved Hufflepuff girl casting hexes that could hurt, possibly even kill someone. She had never even expressed any suspicion or hostility towards the Slytherins--but was that suspicious in itself, considering her family history? Lupin sighed; distrust and paranoia were more Severus's forte. Lupin cared about all his students, and he hated regarding them as suspects. Even during the last months of war, knowing that some of the Slytherins had grown up being indoctrinated by their Death Eater parents, he had still steadfastly believed in them even when some of his fellow Order members expressed doubt, as if by believing in them, he could make them believe in themselves. 

And it seemed to have worked; none of the Slytherin children had gone over to the Death Eaters in the end. So why was keeping the peace proving to be harder than winning the war? And these mysterious pranksters--Lupin was torn as to what he should be doing about them. The teacher in him felt that he should try to win them over and make them see the error of their ways, but the wolf simply wanted the threat to its cubs gone. Severus would certainly have no qualms about expelling the pranksters at the very least if he could catch them, while Lupin was loathe to simply write off them off, as so many people would have written off Draco and the other Death Eaters' children as lost causes. On the other hand, it certainly wasn't fair to put the other students at risk. Of course, this was all a moot point right now, since they didn't know who the pranksters were--at least, not for sure, although Severus had a few suspects in mind.

Lupin's thoughts drifted back to the Prewett brothers, Gideon in particular. What he had told Isabelle was true: Gideon had been impulsive, nearly as reckless as the Marauders. He had been a kind boy, so he had never pulled any mean-spirited pranks as James and Sirius sometimes had, but he had been just as heedless of the consequences of his actions as they had been. Gideon had been more than willing to risk his life by joining the Order of the Phoenix, but Lupin didn't think that he had ever stopped to consider that he might be risking his family's safety as well, although he thought perhaps Fabian had, judging by the worried, brooding look that had often been on his face. 

Of course, someone had to accept the risks, or there would have been no one to fight the Death Eaters. Most of the Order members had been aware of those risks, and had taken what steps they could to protect their families, although those efforts had not always been successful--the Death Eaters had managed to slaughter Edward Bones's family and nearly the entire Potter clan. Lupin had talked things over with his parents before he joined the Order, and they had given him their blessing and told him to do what he must. But Gideon had never quite lost his youthful idealism, and had seemed convinced that the nobility of their cause would somehow protect him, despite the ample evidence to the contrary. 

That had worried Lupin, because he was afraid that it made Gideon take chances that a more cautious person would not, because he was convinced that good would always triumph in the end. Lupin had tried several times to disabuse Gideon of the notion that life was like a heroic ballad or tale--and in any case, many of those heroes died at the end of the story--but he had never been successful, and he often wondered if that had contributed to Gideon's death. Maybe Lupin was being unfair; Gideon and Fabian had been outnumbered five to two, tough odds for even the best of mages, and had fought bravely up until the very end.

But still, Lupin couldn't help but wonder if Gideon's recklessness had put the brothers in a dangerous situation. And for the first time, he wondered if the Prewett family--or the other Order members' families, for that matter--had ever resented their loved ones for putting them in danger. It wasn't really fair to make your relatives a target when they hadn't signed up for this fight, but on the other hand, it wasn't really fair to preserve their safety at the cost of innocent lives. How many more people would have died if the Order had not stepped up to combat the Death Eaters? Lost in thought, Lupin walked through the dungeon without paying attention to his surroundings...

*** 

"Oh, I'm sorry, Draco!" Lupin exclaimed as he nearly collided with the Slytherin boy in the hallway. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's okay, Professor," Draco said. "Neither was I."

Lupin gave him a vague, distracted smile, and continued on his way, and Draco felt a little hurt, somehow. In the past, Lupin would have noticed that he was brooding, stopped to ask him what he was thinking so hard about, and perhaps invited him in for a cup of tea. When Draco was still a Death-Eater-in-waiting, Lupin had worked hard to win his trust and friendship. Maybe now that there was no danger of Draco becoming a Death Eater, there was no need for Lupin to befriend him. But as soon as that thought entered his head, Draco knew that it wasn't really fair. Lupin had continued to look after him after the war ended, and had invited him to visit during the summer; Draco knew that it was partly Lupin's doing that Dylan and Theodore had decided to remain friends with him. It was only natural that Lupin was a little distracted these days, along with Snape; their son had nearly been killed less than two weeks ago. It was stupid to feel hurt just because Lupin and Snape were concerned about someone besides him.

Except that Draco didn't have a father to worry about him. Not that he had ever been his father's main concern. He had thought differently once, but after his father had tried to use him as a shield during the final battle with the Order, it had become painfully clear that Lucius Malfoy's number one concern was himself. Draco rated a poor second at best, and probably not even that. Draco knew that his mother loved him, of course, but she was going through a hard enough time as it was, and he didn't want to burden her further by whining about his hurt feelings. It would make her feel guilty that she had killed Lucius--even though he deserved it, the bastard--and the fact that Draco was no longer Snape's favored student would probably only remind her about their loss in status. Draco was the Lord of the Malfoy estate now; it was his job to be the man of the family and protect his mother.

But it still bothered him that he wasn't really first in anyone's thoughts but his mother's. He was no longer Snape's favorite, but just another Slytherin. He still sort of retained the same circle of friends, but he was no longer their leader. In fact, it was more like they let him hang out with them, and he doubted that they would really miss him if he was gone. Crabbe and Goyle were best friends, as were Damien and Dylan, and Theo and Blaise. For the first time, it dawned on Draco that he didn't really have anyone he could call a best friend. He had never minded the lack before, but now it made him feel lonely. Well, there was Serafina...but he wasn't sure if she counted as a "best friend," since he still wasn't sure how she felt about him. He had confided in her, even confessed his love for her (although under the influence of the spiked punch), but she mostly listened and rarely said much in return. Hell, she probably liked the damn cat better than she liked him!

_I can't believe I'm jealous of a stupid cat!_ Draco thought to himself in disgust.

*** 

The other Slytherins noticed that Draco seemed rather moody and out of sorts that evening. Pansy still felt a little sorry for him, because of the way that the other pureblood families, including hers, had turned their backs on the Malfoys after the war, so she tried to distract him with a little gossip. "Do you know what I've heard?" she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"No, what?" Draco asked without much enthusiasm.

"That Master Bleddri--I mean, Master Diggory--has a girlfriend!"

The other Slytherin girls immediately clustered around Pansy, squealing, "Really? Who is it? Someone from the school?"

Draco snorted. "Oh please! Most of the female teachers are at least twice his age! Can you really picture him dating, say, McGonagall?"

"Well, Professor Blackmore's young and pretty, but she's married," Yvonne said.

"Not to mention scary," Damien added.

"And she only looks young," Draco interjected. "She taught our parents, remember?"

"Could it be Professor Sinistra?" Millicent mused out loud. "Come on, Pansy, tell us who it is!"

Pansy smiled, pleased to be the center of attention. She also noticed that her tactic seemed to have worked and distracted Draco from whatever had been bothering him. "Well, I don't really know who it is," she said, "but I don't think it's a teacher. My mother was having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron the other day, and she heard that Master Diggory always comes there after his court sessions and rents a private room. And that a mysterious lady always meets him there."

"Maybe it's just his lawyer," Dylan suggested practically. "It would be natural for them to discuss the case over lunch, and they probably wouldn't want everyone listening in on their conversation. By any chance, is this mystery lady a pretty woman with red hair?"

"No one knows!" Pansy said, taking great satisfaction in refuting Dylan's suggestion. How boring and unromantic it would be if Master Diggory were merely having a business lunch! "The lady always hides her face and wears a hooded black cloak. His lawyer wouldn't need to disguise herself, now would she? Nor would she have to sneak up to his room; she would just come in openly with him. From what my mother heard, Master Diggory always comes alone, and the lady meets him later."

"Your mother hears a lot of gossip," Aric said sarcastically.

"Yes, she does," Pansy said proudly.

"That wasn't really a compliment," Aric muttered under his breath.

"Do you think Master Diggory is seeing a married woman?" Yvonne asked eagerly. "Why else would she have to disguise herself?"

"Hmm, that's true," Damien mused. "He's single, so there's no reason why he couldn't openly date a single woman."

"Maybe it's someone who doesn't want to be seen in public with a werewolf," Millicent said. "Say, a pureblood woman whose family might object."

"I don't think Bleddri's had much chance to meet many pureblood women," Draco said skeptically.

"Diggory," Brad corrected. "He's changed his name, remember?"

"Maybe Master Diggory and his hypothetical girlfriend just don't want people gossiping about them," Theodore said pointedly.

"Too late!" Pansy said cheerfully, and the other Slytherins laughed.

"Well, if he's trying to hide his affair, he's doing a piss-poor job of it," Damien said with a grin. "I would've expected him to be a bit better at sneaking around, from the rumors I've heard about his shady past."

"I still think it must be a pureblood," Millicent insisted.

"What pureblood woman would date a werewolf?" Yvonne asked, and the Slytherins all looked at each other. "Well...okay, Professor Snape is a pureblood, and he's living with Professor Lupin," Yvonne admitted. "But he's not a woman."

"Same principle, though," Dylan said. "Of course, the Professor doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him, which is sort of rare for a pureblood..."

"Hey, I heard that your mum danced with Master Diggory at the Yule Ball!" Patrick said. "Maybe she's his mysterious girlfriend!" Everyone in the common room laughed uproariously at the idea of snooty Narcissa Malfoy dating a werewolf.

"Watch your mouth, brat!" Draco snapped. "That's my mother you're talking about!" But even he couldn't help but laugh a little at that outrageous suggestion. Neither he nor any of the other Slytherins stopped to think that just a year ago, they would have found the idea of Snape dating Lupin just as preposterous.

*** 

Frank and Alice Longbottom returned to work at the Ministry in early February. After finally being restored to sanity after the deaths of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, they had spent several months recuperating and getting up-to-date on everything that had happened while they were incapacitated, not to mention taking some time to get to know their son, who was a virtual stranger to them. But now that Neville was at school, they no longer wanted to sit around the house doing nothing but getting caught up on past history and mourning the years they had missed seeing their son grow up. The Healers at St. Mungo's cautiously pronounced them fit to return to duty, but suggested that they be kept on office duty until they got "back on their feet again". The Longbottoms did not object, as even doing paperwork was preferable to brooding at home, and gladly returned to work.

Their colleagues greeted them warmly, but the ones who had known them during the first war were a little shocked by how frail they looked, and thought to themselves that perhaps the Healers were not being overcautious, after all. They were in their early forties, but their hair had gone almost completely gray, and they looked worn and haggard. But color and animation gradually filled the Longbottoms' faces as they talked with the other Aurors about their current cases, and their old friends exchanged quick glances of relief; work was probably the best medicine for whatever ailed them.

"Things are fairly quiet right now," Kingsley Shacklebolt said. "Rabastan Lestrange is still at large, of course--" The Longbottoms' faces paled, and he hastily added, "But he seems to be lying low, and is too busy hiding to cause any trouble at the moment." Kingsley motioned to a large stack of paper on his desk. "I could really use some help sorting through the rumors and tips we've received as to where he might be, but if it brings back bad memories..." 

"No one wants to see Lestrange caught more than we do," Frank said firmly. "We'll be happy to do anything we can to help." Alice nodded in agreement.

Kingsley handed them the stack of paper. "I'm afraid that most, if not all of these, are probably nonsense. We haven't had one firm lead yet so far."

"We'll sort through them," Alice said, "and see if we can find anything that looks promising enough to follow up on."

"You can't really say it's quiet, now can you, Shacklebolt?" Williamson said sharply. "Or is a Death Eater sighting at Hogwarts no big deal to you?"

"That's funny," Kingsley retorted. "As I recall, few years back, when a real Dark Mark was conjured at the Quidditch World Cup, you and the rest of the Fudge's cronies swore up and down that Voldemort could not possibly have returned. Now some child pulls a nasty prank and suddenly you're seeing Death Eaters behind every corner."

Williamson's face turned red with anger, but before he could respond, Dawlish said in a quiet but cold voice, "Perhaps now it is you who refuses to see the truth, Kingsley. Maybe it was merely a prank, maybe not, but would it not be wise to at least consider the possibility that this might be a serious threat?" He turned to glance at the Longbottoms. "Especially since the culprit tried to implicate Frank's and Alice's son?"

"We are looking into it," Tonks assured the Longbottoms. "In fact, we're going to meet with a friend of Lukas Bleddri--er, I mean, Diggory--who might be able to help us track down the tape recorder that was used in the prank." She gave Dawlish, Williamson, and Kingsley stern looks. "Let's not forget that we're all on the same side and that we're all supposed to be working together. And let's not forget to keep an open mind. The false Dark Mark could have been cast by a Death Eater sympathizer, but it could also have been cast by someone who wants to make the Slytherins look bad, perhaps someone who lost a loved one in the war and wants to cause trouble for the Death Eaters' children in revenge."

"Let me take a wild guess," Williamson said sarcastically. "Was that Professor Snape's theory?"

"It is, and I think it's valid," Tonks said in a level voice. "I also think it's possible that the culprit might be trying to harm Severus personally, through his students in general and his sons in particular."

"I still think it would do more good to search the students' rooms--the Slytherin students in particular--than to try and track down the Muggle device," Dawlish said impatiently.

Tonks glared at him. "You already searched the homes of the Death Eaters quite thoroughly during the summer and confiscated a few Dark Magic books and artifacts, but found nothing to implicate their children. Actually, I wouldn't mind searching ALL the dorms, but you know we can't do so without a warrant. Besides, I think the culprit is smart enough not to keep any evidence lying around in their room--that's why they used someone else's wand to conjure up the false Mark." She smiled at Frank and Alice. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this eventually--er, no pun intended."

She and Kingsley left, and Dawlish said to the Longbottoms, "Tonks means well, but I think her judgment might be a little clouded by her friendship with Snape and Lupin. And of course her cousin Sirius Black is Lupin's best friend, not to mention Narcissa Malfoy's cousin."

Frank and Alice frowned, looking uncertain and a little confused. "Sirius had cut off all ties to his family back in the old days," Alice said.

"He's reconciled with them," Dawlish explained. "Believed he could help Narcissa and her son reform, I think. A noble goal, but--" He shrugged. "Call me a cynic, but I'm not so sure that people like that can really change. I think his marriage to Branwen Blackmore might have influenced him; the Blackmores always had strong ties to the old Slytherin families."

"I never doubted Branwen's loyalty, despite her strange ways and her family's reputation," Frank said. "She risked her life many times during the war."

"But what a shock," Alice said, "to find her returned from what we thought was certain death, looking as if she hadn't aged a day!" She smiled, a sad and ironic smile. "While we awoke to find ourselves looking so old and our baby boy nearly a man, like those fairy tales where someone falls into an enchanted sleep and wakes up a hundred years later to find that everything around them has changed."

"Well, at least it was only fifteen years and not a century," Frank said comfortingly. "Most of our family and friends are still alive, and we still have time to get to know our son."

"Yes," Alice agreed softly, "we can be grateful for that. I thank Merlin every day that Neville grew up safe and healthy. My last conscious thought was that the Lestranges might find and hurt our baby."

"Your son has grown up into a fine young man," Dawlish said politely, and Alice smiled.

"We're very proud of Neville, of course," Frank said. "But this recent incident at Hogwarts worries me; I always thought the school was a safe place."

"How can it be, with Death Eaters' children among the students, and the Head of Slytherin a former Death Eater himself?" Williamson asked.

"It was a shock," Frank said, frowning, "to find out that Snape was actually a double-agent. I had always assumed he was a true Death Eater, but Albus trusts him, and I'd trust Albus with my life."

"I have nothing but respect for Albus Dumbledore," Dawlish said, "but no one is infallible. Even Dumbledore can make mistakes: he thought that Black was a traitor, same as the rest of us, and a Death Eater posing as Mad-Eye Moody taught at Hogwarts undetected for nearly a year."

"Neville says that Snape is a harsh teacher, but that he respects him and has learned a great deal from him," Alice said uncertainly. "Do you truly believe that Snape's loyalty is suspect?"

"I think it is wise to be cautious," Dawlish said. "Someone who has changed sides once can easily do so again. And he seems to be looking after the children of his former comrades very closely; he has even adopted two of them. Don't you find that a little strange, that he would be so concerned about the children of his enemies, or that they would allow themselves to be adopted by the man who betrayed their fathers?"

The Longbottoms looked concerned, but remained silent, and Dawlish decided not to press the point. He had planted a seed of doubt in them, and that was enough for now. He didn't want to alienate them by pushing too hard.

Later, the four Aurors had lunch in the cafeteria. They had just sat down to eat, when a glum-looking Amos Diggory walked by, carrying a tray. "Amos!" Dawlish called, waving at him. "Care to sit with us?"

Amos came over to their table and pulled up a chair. "Hello, Amos," Alice said, smiling at him pleasantly. They had been friendly in the old days, though not especially close.

Amos smiled wanly in return. "Hello, Alice, Frank," he said. "It's good to see you back at work."

"Thanks, Amos, it's good to be back," Frank replied. "How are Helen and Ced--" He cut himself off, looking horrified. He had nearly forgotten that the Diggorys' son had been killed three years ago. He had been informed of it, but it still didn't seem real to him. The years in St. Mungo's were like a blurry dream, and in his mind, Cedric was still a toddler, happy and healthy. He often had to stop and consciously remind himself that fifteen years had passed since the time he last remembered. "Oh God, Amos, I'm so sorry!"

"It's all right, Frank," Amos said, looking sad but sympathetic. "I know it must be difficult for you. Helen and I...we miss Cedric, of course, but we've come to terms with his death. Our nephew, Tristan, has been a great comfort to us, but now..." He sighed heavily.

Frank and Alice looked uncomfortable. They had read in the Daily Prophet that Amos was being sued by his late brother's son, but were not sure how to react or whose side to take. It was yet another shock, to discover that Cyril Diggory was not only still alive, but that he was a werewolf.

Dawlish and Williamson had no such doubts, though; their sympathies lay firmly with Amos. He was a colleague at the Ministry and the head of a respected pureblood family. Also, the fact that Lukas Bleddri/Cyril Diggory was not only a werewolf but a friend of Severus Snape did nothing to endear him to them. "It's shameful, that the werewolf's lawsuit even went to trial in the first place!" Dawlish declared. "The court should have dismissed it out of hand!"

"Absolutely!" Williamson agreed. "But I'm sure that you'll win the trial, Amos. There's no way they'll ever hand the title over to that werewolf!"

Frank and Alice exchanged another uneasy look. In the past, they had regarded werewolves as creatures to be feared or pitied (or perhaps both), depending on the circumstances, but they had not given much thought to the matter, since they had not known any werewolves personally--or so they had thought. Yet it seemed that Remus Lupin had been a werewolf all along, and he was one of their former comrades, someone they liked and respected. And even stranger was the fact that Remus and Snape were lovers, and had apparently scandalized the wizarding world by making their relationship public!

"Is there no other way to resolve this, Amos, no compromise that can be reached?" Alice asked gently. "In the past, a werewolf was a danger to himself and the people around him, but Albus says that is no longer the case, due to the new Wolfsbane Potion..."

"I appreciate your kind thoughts, Alice," Amos said, a stubborn, implacable look on his face, "but there can be no compromise between myself and my...nephew." He grimaced as he said the word, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "He is determined to revenge himself upon me; he has gotten it into his head that I am somehow responsible for his father's death. Cynric and my parents had a very...adversarial relationship, shall we say, and Cyril grew up with a rather distorted image of our family. His father taught him to regard me and my parents as the enemy, I'm afraid."

"And the Wolfsbane Potion does not make werewolves safe, precisely," Dawlish added. "It allows the werewolf to remain sane during the full moon, but it does not halt the transformation or render the werewolf's bite harmless. The werewolf is not compelled to bite, that is true, but could still bite and infect a victim if he or she chose to do so."

"But surely no sane person would want to deliberately infect someone!" Frank exclaimed.

"One could just as easily say that no sane person would want to practice the Dark Arts and murder people," Dawlish pointed out. "And yet You-Know-Who had no trouble recruiting Death Eaters."

"Werewolves are Dark Creatures," Williamson declared. "It's in their nature to kill. I don't trust them, equal rights bill or not."

"But they helped fight the Death Eaters, didn't they?" Alice asked.

"That is true," Dawlish reluctantly agreed. "But I think that they are still dangerous. People capture and train lions and tigers to perform in zoos and circuses, for example, but they are still wild animals and can never truly be tamed. Even if they're born in captivity, there is always the danger that they will turn on their trainer without warning. I think we need to be cautious of the werewolves in the same way. Bleddri's pack did something astonishing that I had never seen before--they were able to provoke a transformation when the moon was not full. And--I was glad that they were fighting on our side, because it made me shudder to watch them. I saw one of them tear out a man's throat with a single bite; I saw several of them band together to fell a giant, as a normal pack of wolves might bring down a deer. Imagine what would have happened if they had lost control of themselves and turned on their allies! Imagine the threat they could pose if they could change at will and consciously direct their attacks! Just a single rogue werewolf could do incredible harm, and a whole pack of them--I don't even want to think about it!"

"But surely it's not fair to condemn them just because they have the potential to become a danger," Alice objected. "Any human wizard is potentially a danger, after all, if they choose to turn to the Dark Arts and use their magic for ill."

"That is true," Dawlish said placatingly. "I'm not saying that they should all be imprisoned or anything like that." Amos said nothing, but the expression on his face made it plain that it would be perfectly fine with him if all werewolves were locked up. "However," Dawlish continued, "I think it unwise to dismantle the Werewolf Registry. At the very least, we ought to keep track of them to make sure they're taking their potion and not posing a threat to anyone."

"I don't know what to think," Frank sighed. "So much has changed; it's a lot to take in all at once." 

Dawlish changed the subject, much to the Longbottoms' relief, and they talked of pleasant, trivial matters for the rest of their lunch hour. But the doubts that Dawlish, Williamson, and Amos had raised still remained. When Frank and Alice returned home, they went through some of Neville's letters, scrutinizing them more carefully for mentions of his teachers. 

He had nothing but praise for Lupin, who was "the best teacher in the school" as far as Neville was concerned; he said that Lupin's classes were always interesting and fun. He was less enthusiastic about Snape, but they detected no hint of fear or hostility in Neville's letters: "Snape is pretty hard on the Gryffindors, but I think he likes Hermione--he actually gave her ten points in class today, and Snape never gives points to the Gryffindors! Of course, she is dating his foster son, and Hermione and Dylan are his top Potions students...We got word that Professor Snape's father died today. I never liked Snape much, to be honest, but I felt sorry for him; he turned white and looked like he was going to faint. Hermione says that Snape was estranged from his family for a long time. I wonder if he regrets that now? I hope he got to make up with his dad before he died...Today Snape said, 'You seem to have brewed your potion adequately today, Longbottom'--that's high praise, coming from Snape, at least for me! I'm a little worried about my Potions N.E.W.T., but I think I'll do okay. I haven't made any mistakes in Potions class since the start of term, when I almost messed up the Fire Shield Potion." 

As for the Physical Defense instructor, Neville's letters said, "Master Bleddri is a tough teacher, but at least he's fair. He didn't go to Hogwarts, so he doesn't play favorites with the Houses like some of the other teachers do. I'm not really that good at the physical combat--not like Harry is, anyway--but as long as you work hard and try your best, he doesn't scold you. But I like his Interspecies Relations class much better. We're learning lots of interesting things about werewolves, and about other types of non-humans, too."

"Well, at least Neville doesn't seem to be afraid of either Snape or Cyril Diggory," Alice said. "Although he might be holding back, not wanting to worry us. He didn't tell us about the threatening note that was sent to Harry Potter, after all. We only learned about it from the other parents at the Quidditch match."

"Albus swears that they're both trustworthy," Frank said. "I don't want to question his judgment, but..."

"Perhaps we could go to the school and have a friendly chat with Remus," Alice suggested. "Just to catch up on old times and discuss Neville's progress. And perhaps get some insight into Snape and Diggory."

"He's likely to be biased, from what Dawlish said," Frank replied.

"Yes, well, Richard seems to be a bit biased himself," Alice said dryly. "Perhaps by hearing from both sides, we might be able to get a more realistic picture and draw our own conclusions."

*** 

So they made an appointment to see Professor Lupin in his office the following afternoon. "Frank, Alice, how good to see you!" Lupin said warmly.

"It's good to see you too, Remus," the Longbottoms replied. Lupin shook Frank's hand and gave Alice a kiss on the cheek, then motioned for them to take a seat.

Lupin poured tea for everyone and set out a plate of cookies. "So what can I do for you today?" he asked cheerfully.

"We just wanted to check up on Neville," Alice said casually. "I suppose we're being a little overprotective, but...well..."

"No one could blame you for that, after being parted from your son for so many years," Lupin said kindly. "If I were separated from Theo and Dylan..." His voice trailed off, and he turned a little pale. Then he quickly shook his head and smiled again. "But we were talking about Neville," Lupin said briskly. "I assure you that he's doing extremely well in my class. I don't have any doubt that he'll pass his Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. with flying colors. I believe he's doing fine in his other classes as well, although you'd have to ask Professor McGonagall for more details."

"And there have been no other...ah...incidents since the Quidditch match?" Frank asked.

"No," Lupin replied in a more serious voice. "I don't blame you for being worried--many of the other parents have already expressed their concerns in much more vocal terms. But I promise we're doing everything that we can to protect the students. We've set a curfew so that the students won't be wandering around after hours, and the teachers are taking turns patrolling the halls in the evening."

"But you still haven't caught the person who cast the Dark Mark at the match," Frank said.

Lupin sighed wearily. "No, we haven't, and I am just as concerned about it as you are. I have two sons attending Hogwarts myself now, and both of them were injured by these vicious pranks. There has been a great deal of hostility directed towards Slytherin by certain members of the other Houses, and I'm almost sure that's the motivation behind these pranks. I remember how nasty the House rivalry could get at times when I was a student, and things have been exacerbated by the war. I thought things would get better after the war ended, and they have, a little, but I suppose that there are still many unhealed wounds."

"Your sons?" Alice said, sounding a little surprised.

"Well, technically they're my foster sons, but I think of them as my own," Lupin said, smiling proudly. He pulled a slim folder out of one of the drawers in his desk; it contained photos clipped from the school paper, of two boys playing Quidditch, and a picture of one of the boys posing with a girl at the Yule Ball. "This is Dylan," Lupin said, pointing at the latter picture; the boy was stunningly handsome and bore a strong resemblance to Evan Rosier. He pointed at another picture, this one of a lanky, dark-haired boy on a broomstick holding a Quaffle. "And this is Theo." Lupin looked thoughtful and said, more to himself than to his companions, "Hmm, we ought to take an official family photo, maybe I should talk to Colin about that..."

"Dylan Rosier and Theodore Nott," Frank said in a carefully expressionless voice. He had fought with their fathers on occasion, and had seen the victims they had murdered.

"Theodore Snape now," Lupin said pleasantly. "Severus legally adopted Theo as his heir."

"Yes, Neville mentioned that in his letters," Alice murmured.

"The boys have done nothing wrong," Lupin said firmly, his eyes meeting the Longbottoms' without flinching. "In fact, they helped us fight the Death Eaters."

"I am surprised that they would reject their parents' teachings," Frank said.

"I am not," Lupin replied in an even voice. "They both endured horrors you cannot imagine. They saw the cruelty of Voldemort and the Death Eaters firsthand."

"My imagination is very good," Frank said, a little bitterly. "We saw a great many horrors during the war, as you know, Remus."

"But not at age eight, or fifteen, or sixteen," Lupin said quietly. "Theodore saw his uncle murdered before his eyes by his father. Dylan had the Dark Mark forcibly branded onto his arm. Dylan saw his mother murdered before his eyes, watched her sacrifice herself to save his life. Theodore saw his father try to hand him over to the Dark Lord as a sacrifice. Can any of the horrors you have seen truly match these?" The Longbottoms looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Do you honestly think that I would have taken them into my home and my heart if they were Death Eaters?" Lupin asked in a passionate voice.

"No, Remus, of course not," Alice finally replied after a long silence.

In a gentler voice, Lupin said, "Much has happened since you...er...fell ill."

"Call it what it is, Remus," Frank said bluntly. "Since we went mad, you mean."

"A lot has changed since then," Lupin said. "The children grew up different from their fathers, I think because of what they witnessed living among the Death Eaters--not just the cruelty, but the fear. The Death Eaters were all terrified of their own Master. Voldemort's madness increased and his patience lessened after his resurrection. He would torture his servants when they displeased him or failed to carry out a task he had assigned them."

Frank could not help but feel a twinge of satisfaction, having been on the receiving end of the Death Eaters' tortures. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?"

"No," Lupin replied, "but are you really surprised to learn now that the Death Eaters' children were not so eager to share their parents' fate?"

"I suppose not," Frank conceded.

Lupin gave his old comrades a shrewd look. "If you really wanted to check on Neville's progress, you would have spoken to Albus or Minerva. I think that certain of your colleagues have told you unsavory rumors about my lover and my sons, and you want to reassure yourself that they are not true."

Frank and Alice both blushed. "Well, things have indeed changed over the years, Remus," Alice said with a smile. "You are certainly much more direct than you used to be!"

Lupin laughed good-naturedly. "I wasted too many years being afraid to speak up, hiding from myself and from the world. I don't intend to waste any more time; it is much too precious to me."

Just then, the door opened and Snape walked in unannounced. "Lupin, I--" Snape started to say, then looked startled when he saw the Longbottoms. "Oh, I didn't know that you had company."

"Severus, you remember Frank and Alice Longbottom, don't you?" Lupin said pleasantly. "Neville's parents. Frank, Alice, this is of course Severus Snape, the Potions Master at Hogwarts and--" A mischievous gleam twinkled in his eyes. "--my lover."

Snape flushed a little and scowled at Lupin. "Why don't you just take an ad out in the Daily Prophet while you're at it?" he asked sourly, and Lupin smiled sweetly at him in response. Snape turned his gaze to the Longbottoms, a combination of concern and suspicion on his face. "Is there some sort of problem regarding Mr. Longbottom that I don't know about?"

"They just wanted to check on how Neville was doing," Lupin said innocently, which only made Snape look more suspicious. 

"Well, they may rest assured that--somewhat to my surprise--Mr. Longbottom has managed not to melt any cauldrons, cause any explosions, or otherwise cause harm to himself or his classmates of late," Snape said caustically. 

"Yes, I was just telling them that Neville was doing very well in his classes," Lupin said cheerfully.

"It's possible that he might actually pass his Potions N.E.W.T.," Snape said grudgingly, "although he will never be a Potions Master." He nodded curtly at the Longbottoms, said, "I'll talk to you later, Lupin," and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lupin smiled apologetically. "Well, I'm afraid some things don't change--like Severus's temper. But believe it or not, that was a compliment, if a rather backhanded one. Severus is the only person I know who can make a compliment sound like an insult; he's rather fond of his sinister image, you see, and he doesn't want the students to think he's going soft. But I assure you, he would never have accepted Neville into his Advanced class if he didn't think that Neville was competent. It's true that Neville...er...had some difficulties when he first started taking Potions, but he's made a great deal of progress since then. I think Severus is a little impressed by how hard Neville has worked to improve, even though he would never admit it."

"I see," Alice said dubiously. Snape seemed as unpleasant as she had remembered, and even if what Lupin had just said was true, she still did not understand what on earth he could possibly see in Snape as a lover.

As if reading her mind, Lupin said quietly, "You must remember, Severus has spent the better part of two decades being a spy, at great risk to his own life. He does not readily reveal his true emotions to people he isn't close to. But he cares about his students very much, and he worked hard to protect them--all of them, even the Gryffindors." Lupin smiled. "And yes, Severus does still hold a grudge against his rival House, but that did not stop him from doing his duty. I hope you can believe me when I tell you that Severus is a man of honor."

"You and Albus certainly seem to think very highly of him," Frank said, a little evasively. It wasn't that he doubted Lupin, but it was a bit difficult to think of Snape as one of the "good guys" when they had believed him to be a Death Eater for so long. Everything about Snape had practically screamed "Death Eater": his interest in the Dark Arts, his sullen expression and furtive ways, his family's reputation, his friendship with Lucius Malfoy, even the fact that he wore nothing but black, as if he were deliberately cultivating a sinister image.

If Lupin noticed that Frank had not actually agreed with him, he gave no sign of it. "I'm glad I was able to set your mind at ease, then," Lupin said pleasantly. "Would you like to see Neville before you go back home?"

"Of course we'd love to see him," Alice said, "but he might be a little embarrassed if he thought we were checking up on him."

"Oh, I don't really think he'd mind, but why don't we just say that you came to consult with me on Auror business?" Lupin suggested casually. "And you thought you would say hello to him, since you were already here. Then he doesn't have to feel that you're being overprotective."

The Longbottoms nodded, feeling a little surprised at how easily Lupin came up with that little white lie. He had never been very glib or good at prevaricating when they had known him in the old days. Alice wondered if it was something he had picked up from his Slytherin lover, then reminded herself that to be fair, the Gryffindors were not always entirely truthful either. James and Sirius had certainly stretched the truth on more than one occasion when they were boys, and it had sometimes been necessary for the Aurors and Order members to lie in order to prevent the enemy from discovering what they were up to.

"I believe Neville went to the library to study after class," Lupin said. "Or I could send for him, if you like."

"No, that's all right, Remus," Frank said. "It might be nice to take a look around the school, for old time's sake."

So the Longbottoms left Lupin's office and walked to the library. Some of the students they passed in the halls gave them curious looks, but didn't seem to recognize them, for which they were grateful. They'd already had more than their share of people pointing at them and whispering behind their backs since their recovery. The whispers always ran along the lines of, "Aren't those the Longbottoms, who were driven insane by the Death Eaters...?"

The school did not appear to have changed very much, except for the faces of the students. Even the librarian, Madam Pince, was the same, sternly shushing any students who raised their voices in the library. But she did smile at Frank and Alice when they walked in, and said, "It's so good to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom. Were you looking for young Mr. Longbottom? I believe he was in the Herbology section."

They found their son sitting at a table near the Herbology shelves with a pretty blonde girl. There were four other students sitting with them: a cheerful-looking boy with auburn hair who had his arm around a girl with dusky skin and a long, black braid; a girl with bushy brown hair; and a boy with long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

"So my dad's started experimenting with those cauldron specifications you sent him," the red-haired boy was saying to the blonde girl. "But he says it'll probably take some trial and error to get it exactly right. He says he'll send over the prototypes for you to look at when they're done."

"It's too bad that we can't actually forge them in the school," the blonde girl sighed. "I would love to see the whole process from start to finish."

"Maybe we could convince Dumbledore to let us take a field trip to your father's factory, Damien," the black-haired boy suggested.

"That's an excellent idea!" the bushy-haired girl said approvingly. "It would be very educational, I'm sure."

"I'm not sure Mr. Pierce would want me anywhere near his cauldrons," Neville said ruefully, "what with the way I tend to melt them."

Everyone laughed. "But that's the whole purpose of this experiment, isn't it?" the black-haired boy said with a grin. "To make cauldrons that don't melt! You can be the one to test them, Longbottom!"

"If they can survive you, then they can survive anything," the girl with the braid declared, and they all laughed again.

The Longbottoms received a shock when they got a closer look at the dark-haired boy's face; it was Lupin's foster son, Dylan Rosier. They froze in shock and fear for a moment, as if they had seen a ghost. Although Dylan's hair was longer and straighter than Evan's had been, his laughing face looked exactly like his father's. In their minds, they seemed to see Evan Rosier's face superimposed over Dylan's, as he laughed at the bloody corpses lying at his feet...

"Mum, Dad!" Neville exclaimed, jumping to his feet as he caught sight of them. His face broke out in a wide grin; it seemed that he was not at all embarrassed to have his parents checking up on him at school. Then his smile wavered slightly and he looked worried. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Neville," Alice assured him. "We stopped by to discuss some business with Professor Lupin, and we thought we ought to say hello to you while we were here."

"Oh," Neville said, looking relieved. "Well, I'm glad you stopped by." His companions were staring at the Longbottoms curiously, and Neville added, "Oh, let me introduce you to my friends. This is Lisa Turpin--"  "Ah yes," Frank said with a smile. "The young lady you invited to the Ball."

Lisa blushed and said, "It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Frank said, shaking her hand.

"We've heard so much about you," Alice said. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

Neville flushed and hastily moved on with the introductions. "And these are my housemates, Hermione Granger and Parvati Patil." The girls murmured polite greetings. "And this is Damien Pierce..."

"Nice to meet you," Damien said politely.

"Lisa is going to work for Damien's father when she graduates," Neville said proudly, "designing cauldrons. And this is Dylan Rosier."

The Longbottoms tried to disguise their reaction, but apparently were not very successful, because Dylan looked hurt and bitter for just a second before his face went blank, and his friendly, easy smile was replaced by a very cool and polite one. The contrast was startling; his face looked as beautiful and flawless and emotionless as a porcelain mask. He had started to extend his hand towards the Longbottoms, but quickly let it drop to his side and changed the movement into a formal little bow, so smoothly that it was barely noticeable. 

"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," Dylan said, in a voice that was as cool as his smile. "I'm sure that you and Neville must have a great deal of catching up to do, so we'll give you some privacy." He bowed again and said, "Come along, Damien, Hermione." He turned, swirling his robe around him in the exact same way that Snape used to, and strode out of the room without a backward glance. The Gryffindor girls hurried after him, looking worried, and Damien gave the Longbottoms a quick glare before following his friends.

Lisa looked just as concerned as the other two girls. "Dylan is a nice person," she said softly. "He's not like his father."

"I never said otherwise," Frank protested, although he flushed guiltily. 

"No, but it's clear what you were thinking," Neville said, looking a little troubled himself. "It was written all over your faces: 'He's a Death Eater's son'."

"I really should be going, Neville," Lisa said, gathering up her books. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, see you, Lisa," Neville said.

"I'm sorry, son," Frank said after Lisa left. "We didn't mean to react that way, but it was just such a shock--the boy looks so much like his father."

"And we confronted Evan once, as Aurors," Alice said quietly. "He and his friend Wilkes had just slain a group of Muggles."

"Well, I can see how Dylan might bring back bad memories for you," Neville said, "but he's okay, really. He can't help it if he looks like his dad."

"Are you good friends with him?" Frank asked, frowning, not liking the idea of Neville getting too close to Evan Rosier's son. Being fair and open-minded was all very well in principle, but he didn't want to risk his son's safety for the sake of idealism, even if that made him a hypocrite.

"Not really," Neville replied, "but he's friends with Lisa, and he's dating Hermione, so sometimes we hang around with the same people. Especially now, since Lisa has signed an apprenticeship with Damien's father--and Damien is Dylan's best friend." Seeing that his parents were still frowning worriedly, he added, "Really, he's okay! Some of the Slytherins used to make fun of me, but Dylan never did. And he fought against the Death Eaters in the final battle, so that should prove he's not like his dad. Hermione trusts him, and so does Professor Lupin. He never would have adopted--or fostered, or whatever it is you call it--Dylan if he thought he was a Death Eater. Professor Lupin always says that we should judge people by their actions, not by what House they're in or who their parents are."

Frank and Alice exchanged a sad smile. They heard the words "Professor Lupin says" quite often from Neville during their conversations and in his letters from school, and it was clear that Neville really looked up to Lupin. They were grateful that Neville had found a worthy mentor in Lupin, but at the same time, it saddened them that in some ways, Neville was probably closer to his teacher than he was to his parents. Clearly, he trusted Lupin's judgment over theirs, at least in this matter. And maybe he was right, because Lupin certainly knew Dylan Rosier better than they did, but it still hurt.

"Professor Lupin is probably right," Alice admitted. "I'm sorry that we offended your friends, Neville."

"It's okay," Neville said, although he still looked a little worried. "I'll try to straighten it out with them. Dylan's not really the type to hold a grudge. He and Ron Weasley get along now, even though Ron used to give him a hard time about being a Death Eater's son. Although I guess they kind of have to get along now, since Hermione is Ron's friend and Dylan's girlfriend." Neville's expression brightened. "That should set your mind at ease, Mum, Dad! A real Death Eater would never date a Muggle-born girl like Hermione."

It did make the Longbottoms feel better. The Death Eaters they had known would never have "tainted" their bloodline by consorting with a Muggle. "Yes, you're right, son," Frank said. "But please do be careful." Neville opened his mouth to protest, and Frank added, "I don't mean about Dylan Rosier specifically. But I am concerned about the threats and so-called pranks that have been taking place at school, especially since whoever's behind it involved you personally by taking your wand."

"Yes, Dad," Neville mumbled, looking shamefaced. "I'm really sorry about that."

"It's not your fault, Neville," Frank said, patting his son on the shoulder. "You should be able to trust your fellow students not to steal your things, but unfortunately, it looks like you're going to have to be on your guard till this is settled."

"I'll be careful," Neville promised. "Don't worry."

The Longbottoms didn't try to tell Neville that it was impossible for a parent to stop worrying about their child, even in the best of times. He would find that out for himself someday, when he had children of his own. "Well, take care, son," Frank said, giving Neville another pat on the shoulder, and Alice kissed him on the cheek.

As they turned to leave, Neville suddenly looked alarmed and called out, "Wait! You said you came here on business--did you mean Auror business? Did you find out something about the Dark Mark that was cast at the Quidditch match?"

"No, it was nothing to do with the match," Frank replied, regretting that he had frightened his son. "Tonks and Kingsley are carrying out that investigation. To be honest, we just wanted an excuse to stop by and see you."

Neville smiled, looking very relieved and happy. "I'm glad you did," he said, and hugged both of his parents. The awkwardness and distance of being family and yet strangers at the same time seemed to disappear for the moment, and Frank and Alice hugged him back, feeling very glad that they had stopped by Hogwarts, after all.

*** 

Meanwhile, Dylan's friends were trying to comfort him. "Who cares what they think?" Damien said scornfully. "They just got out of the looney bin, after all!"

"Well, I wouldn't call it the looney bin," Hermione said disapprovingly. "But he's right that they did just get out of St. Mungo's last summer. It's almost like they weren't living in this world for the past fifteen or sixteen years, sort of like Professor Blackmore. It's as if they jumped ahead in time. So they don't know you, or about how you fought the Death Eaters, Dylan, or how the different Houses had to learn how to work with each other. Well, I'm sure they read about it in the Daily Prophet, but reading about it and actually seeing and experiencing it are two different things..."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," Dylan said curtly. "I don't care what they think."

"I would have thought Neville's parents would be nicer," Parvati said disdainfully.

"Well, I'm sure they'll like you once they get to know you," Hermione said uncertainly.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," Dylan said bitterly. "To some people, I'll never be anything but 'that Death Eater's son'. And the Longbottoms were Aurors; they might even have fought with my father during the first war. I suppose it's no surprise that they look at me like...like I'm a monster or something."

"But Professor Blackmore was an Auror, and she likes you!" Hermione protested. "She even cared about your dad, even if she didn't approve of what he did. Sirius too, and Tonks--"

Hermione seemed even more distraught than Dylan felt, so he slipped an arm around her and said, "It's okay, Hermione, really. I know I can't make everyone like me." And somehow, her concern did make him feel a little better. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he took comfort in the warmth of her body pressed close against his.

"I hate it that people can't let go of the past," Hermione said unhappily.

"I know, me too," Dylan sighed. "But I guess the people who really matter know the truth, and that's what's important. Professor Snape's and Remus's opinions mean a lot more to me than the Longbottoms'."

Filch happened to walk down the corridor just then, and scowled at the embracing couple. "Here now, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves, carrying on in public like that!"

Dylan and Hermione quickly separated, and Hermione murmured, "Sorry, sir." 

Damien said cheerfully, "Next time, we'll be sure to do any carrying on in private!"

"Cheeky brat!" Filch growled, then muttered darkly about how much better things were in the old days, when they had been allowed to whip the students.

The two couples hurried on their way, their mood lifted slightly by Damien's mischief. "Anyway, you shouldn't care what crazy people think about you," Damien told his friend.

"They're not crazy," Hermione protested. "At least, not anymore."

"Just prejudiced," Parvati said. "Like that stupid Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke."

Damien was silent for a long moment, looking unusually thoughtful and serious. "You know, I think Slytherins adapt to change better than Gryffindors," he finally said.  "What do you mean?" Hermione asked curiously. 

"You Gryffindors have a pretty narrow view of the world," Damien explained. "Black and white, good and evil, right and wrong." Parvati pouted, and Damien smiled. "Present company excepted, of course. You do what you think is right, you're loyal to your friends, and you're implacable foes to your enemies. But you see, we Slytherins have less morals. We don't worry so much about right and wrong, we just concentrate on surviving and coming out ahead. If we have to, we'll change sides and ally with people we hate, if that's what it takes to survive. How else do you think Lucius Malfoy and his friends managed to not only stay out of prison, but wind up with cushy Ministry jobs after the first war?"

"I think you have more morals than you like to admit," Hermione pointed out. "You were loyal to Dylan; you even risked your life fighting the Death Eaters to protect him."

Damien grinned. "Ah well, I guess I'm not such a good Slytherin after all, then! But anyway, my point is, the Longbottoms thought they knew who the enemy was, and now they're having trouble adapting even though they know that things have changed."

"Hmm, that's rather insightful of you, Damien," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I'm not sure that I completely agree with you, but you make an interesting point."

Parvati was still pouting a little. "Well, I think that Gryffindors are more adaptable than you think. After all, I'm dating you, aren't I?"

"Well, the Gryffindor girls are certainly much more intelligent and mature than the boys are," Damien said smoothly, and Parvati smiled, looking pacified.

"Well, I think things are changing," Hermione said firmly. "After all, just a few years ago, it would have been impossible for all of us to be friends. The older generation, like the Longbottoms, might have trouble accepting change, but the younger students like Allegra are getting used to having friends in different Houses." She smiled hopefully at Dylan. "Maybe in a few years, people won't automatically think of Gryffindors and Slytherins as enemies."

Dylan thought she was being overly optimistic, but she was right in that they had come a long way in a short time. Last year at this time, he had been a reluctant Death Eater, and had been forced to keep his feelings for Hermione secret for their own safety. Now they could walk through the halls holding hands with no fear of anything but a reprimand from Filch. He reached out and clasped her hand, and she laced her fingers through his and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. "Why don't we go hang out in the common room?" he suggested as they headed towards the dungeon.

"Is that really okay?" Parvati asked eagerly. Even though she was dating Damien, and was friends with Millicent and Pansy, she had never actually been in the Slytherin dorm yet.

"Sure," Dylan said lightly, smiling at Hermione. "We ought to set a good example of inter-House cooperation for future generations."

"Malfoy won't mind?" Parvati asked.

"Malfoy isn't the king of Slytherin anymore," Damien replied carelessly.

"Besides," Dylan added, "Snape's already a set a precedent by allowing Lupin into the dorm."

"Well, but Lupin's sort of an honorary Slytherin," Damien said.

When the foursome entered the dorm, a few of the Slytherins raised their eyebrows, and Malfoy scowled fiercely, but no one said anything in protest. Parvati looked around the room eagerly, then said, sounding a little disappointed, "It's nice, a little more luxurious than our common room, but..."

"What, were you expecting to see chains hanging from the walls?" Damien joked. "Or maybe a torture chamber?"

"You'd have to go to Filch's office for that," Dylan said, and they all laughed.

*** 

Draco watched as Damien and Dylan sat with their girlfriends in front of the fireplace, casually talking and laughing, and were soon joined by Millicent and Pansy. It filled him with an unexpected sense of fury, not so much because he disapproved of the Gryffindor girls, but because Damien and Dylan had not bothered to ask for his permission to bring them here. It was a bitter reminder of the fact that he no longer held any authority in Slytherin House. He was no longer a Malfoy, someone to be admired and feared, but a nobody, and suddenly, he almost hated his two friends for reminding him of that. He stalked off to his room so that he wouldn't have to look at them and be reminded of his humiliation.

*** 

On his way to his room, Draco brushed past Theodore and Blaise without a word, and the two boys gave him puzzled looks. When they reached the common room and saw Parvati and Hermione, Theodore said with a grin, "Ah, no wonder Draco's in such a snit--Gryffindors in the common room. What is the world coming to these days?"

Pansy tossed back her hair and said, "It's no big deal. Zabini's sister has been here before, and so has Professor Lupin, so they're hardly the first Gryffindors to enter the dorm."

"So will you be bringing Finch-Fletchley by, then?" Theodore teased.

"Maybe," Pansy said.

"Salazar Slytherin must be rolling over in his grave!" Theodore laughed. He and Blaise joined their friends, and no one took Draco's displeasure seriously. He had changed a great deal since the war ended, but he still had a bit of pureblood snobbishness in him, and they assumed that it was nothing more serious than his Slytherin sensibilities being offended. They figured that eventually it would blow over and he would forget about his bad mood. In any case, they forgot about Draco when Damien and Dylan told them what had happened with the Longbottoms. Theodore was very indignant about the slight to his brother, but Dylan tried to brush it off.

"Maybe I'm overreacting," he said. "They didn't actually say anything. It was just the way that they looked at me..."

"I know those kinds of looks," Theodore said grimly. "It's the kind of look that says, 'Why aren't you locked up in Azkaban with the other Death Eaters?'"

"Please, let's just forget about it," Dylan said, looking uncomfortable. "It's not like I'll be spending much time with the Longbottoms, anyway. I only ran into them because they stopped by to see Neville. And we were only talking to Neville because of Lisa's apprenticeship."

"But they were friends of Professor Lupin's, weren't they?" Hermione asked. "At least, they were all in the Order of the Phoenix together. Maybe you should ask the Professor to talk to them--"

"No!" Dylan said adamantly, shaking his head. "It wouldn't accomplish anything except to make Remus feel bad. Anyway, I'm used to people hating me because of who my father is. I can live with it."

"Are you sure, Dylan?" Hermione asked, still looking worried.

"Sure," Dylan said, although it did hurt more than he expected. He wasn't sure why the opinion of strangers should matter so much; maybe it was because it was a reminder that he would never escape his father's reputation even after the war had ended and he had publicly proved his loyalty by fighting the Death Eaters. And maybe this was justice; maybe he deserved this punishment because he had once sincerely wanted to join the Death Eaters, and because he still loved his father in spite of all the terrible things he had done.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Hermione said softly, gently stroking his cheek.

"Yes," Dylan said, feeling much more confident of his response this time, and he put his arm around her and pulled her close. After all, he reminded himself, he was surrounded by people he loved--his friends, his brother, Snape and Lupin, Hermione, and of course there were Uncle Math, Aunt Goewin, and Ariana back in Wales. He decided that it didn't matter if a few ignorant people still hated him. Damien was right; Slytherins were adaptable, and Dylan would survive this. The bigots couldn't even do anything to affect his career, since Mr. Jigger had already promised him the Apothecary shop. He would graduate from school, get his Master's qualification, run the shop with Hermione, and live happily ever after. Well, Slytherins didn't really believe in things like "happily ever after," but Dylan's future seemed assured, and he could think of nothing that would make him happier than living and working with Hermione--with plenty of frequent visits to Snape Manor and the cottage in the woods to see his parents and brother, of course.

So he said nothing to Lupin or Snape about it, figuring that it wasn't worth making Lupin feel sad over such a minor incident. And telling Snape would only make the Potions Master go into a rage; he would probably confront the Longbottoms and take out his anger on poor Neville in Potions class, which would only prolong the trouble and make Lupin feel even worse.

*** 

Lupin didn't know that Frank and Alice had run into Dylan, so he said nothing to his sons about his meeting with the Longbottoms, figuring that there was no point in making the boys feel bad when they already encountered enough bigotry as it was.

Neither did he tell Snape the entire truth, since like Dylan, he suspected that Neville would be the one that Snape took out his anger on. Lupin loved Snape dearly, but that did not blind him to his lover's faults and biases. 

So when they were alone in their quarters that evening and Snape asked what the Longbottoms had wanted, Lupin replied, "Oh, nothing really. They just wanted to check on Neville. Like most of the parents, they're a little worried about all these 'pranks,' and it's not surprising that they're a little overprotective of him. I suspect they're trying to make up for lost time."

"It's too bad that they missed out on his childhood, but the boy is too old to be coddled," Snape said sourly. "They'll just have to learn to accept that he's nearly an adult."

"Are Theo and Dylan too old to be tucked into bed?" Lupin asked with a mischievous smile, and Snape's face turned bright red. 

"I'm not...that is...I was only..." Snape spluttered, then took a deep breath and managed to regain control of his dignity. "That's completely different, Lupin!" Snape declared emphatically, if not very logically, and glared at his lover.

Lupin just chuckled. "By the way, Sev, what did you want to talk about this afternoon, when you stopped by my office?"

Snape's face turned red again. "Er...nothing really. I just thought you might...that is...well..." Lupin raised his eyebrows, and Snape growled, "Oh, blast it! I thought you might want to have sex, all right? It's been awhile since you've jumped me in my office, and I don't want your werewolf hormones raging out of control."

"Why, how thoughtful of you, Severus!" Lupin laughed, and began unfastening his robes. "You know, as a matter of fact, I am feeling a bit hormonal right now..."

So Lupin temporarily forgot about the Longbottoms, and to all outward appearances, life went on smoothly at Hogwarts, with none of the teachers or students completely aware of all the tensions, hurt feelings, and resentments that were simmering just below the surface.

*** 

Kingsley and Tonks met with their informant in a seedy bar in Knockturn Alley. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, but his dark brown hair was going prematurely gray, much like Lupin's. He scowled at the two Aurors suspiciously, which in combination with his shabby, patched robes and a long scar running diagonally across the left side of his face from his temple to his jaw, made him look quite sinister. Which made him seem right at home, since just about everyone in Knockturn Alley looked sinister.

"I'm Tonks, and this is Kingsley," Tonks said. "And you must be Ash. Thanks for meeting with us."

"Let's cut the pleasantries, shall we?" Ash said curtly. "I'm only here because Lukas ordered me to come. I'm not very fond of officers of the law, for obvious reasons."

"We're Aurors," Kingsley said patiently. "Our job is to track down Dark Wizards. As long as you aren't dealing in Dark Magic items, we don't care if you happen to be moving a little Muggle contraband."

"I hope so," Ash said, still scowling. "Because you gave my pack leader your word that you wouldn't arrest me, and it's a very bad idea to betray a werewolf." Tonks was having a difficult time tearing her eyes away from the werewolf's scar, and Ash snapped, "And what are you looking at?"

"Sorry," she said apologetically. "I didn't mean to stare; it's just that I thought werewolves healed wounds too fast to develop scars."

Ash rubbed his scar in what seemed to be an almost unconscious reaction, and growled, "I got this before I was bitten, you stupid girl."

"There's no need for name-calling," Kingsley said indignantly, but Tonks cut him off.

"Never mind, I was the one who was rude. Shall we get down to business?"

"Fine," Ash said, appearing slightly mollified. "The sooner we get this over with, the better, as far as I'm concerned." 

"So you do sell Muggle technology to wizards?" Tonks asked.

Ash nodded. "Lukas said you're looking for someone who bought a tape recorder? They're not actually illegal, but a lot of young wizards don't want to buy things like that openly because their parents wouldn't approve. You know, the snooty pureblood types who don't want to soil their hands with anything Muggle."

"Do you get a lot of teenage customers?" Kingsley asked, hopeful that they were on the right track.

"Yeah, a lot of spoiled brats with too much time and money on their hands," Ash said.

"Did you sell a tape recorder recently?" Tonks asked. "One that looked something like this?" She handed him a sketch she had made, of what the recorder had probably looked like before it had melted.

"No, this looks like an old, clunky model," Ash said, after examining the sketch. "The kids usually want the latest gadgets, like the ones small enough to fit in your pocket. There's less demand for them now, anyway, since the magical music boxes and recording spheres came on the market."

"Oh," Tonks said, feeling very disappointed. "Well, it's probably no use showing you these, then, but do you recognize any of these people? Maybe they were looking, but didn't actually buy anything from you?" 

The werewolf looked through the pictures of Stewart Ackerley, Isabelle Laroque, Jack Sloper, Andrew Kirke, Tristan Ames-Diggory, and Aric Dietrich--Snape's list of most likely suspects. Actually, Snape had told Tonks that Aric was probably a long shot, but that it wouldn't hurt to include him. "No, sorry," Ash said. "I don't recognize any of these kids. When I do see school-age kids, it's usually during the summer or Christmas breaks. I imagine that it must be hard for them to sneak out of Hogwarts and come to London. Hogsmeade, perhaps, since it's within walking distance, although I guess the older ones might be able to Apparate."

"Well, thanks anyway, Ash," Tonks said, looking crestfallen. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us."

The werewolf seemed much less hostile than he had at the beginning of their meeting. "You know, there might be another way that your suspect could have bought a tape recorder," he said thoughtfully.

"We've already tried all the authorized Muggle merchandise dealers," Kingsley said. 

Ash shook his head impatiently. "I don't mean from a shop. This machine looks like an older model, and people sell a lot of secondhand items in the classified section of the Daily Prophet. A tape recorder's not illegal, so there would be no problem with someone placing an ad saying that they're looking to buy or sell one."

"And lots of students get the Daily Prophet delivered at school!" Tonks said excitedly. "They wouldn't even have had to leave the school to buy the recorder; they could have just had it owled to them!"

"Damn!" Kingsley said. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Ash shrugged. "Maybe because most wizards don't like to advertise that they own Muggle items. There aren't really that many listed in the classifieds, but perhaps that will make your search easier."

"Thank you so much, Ash!" Tonks exclaimed, and the werewolf actually smiled a little.

"You're welcome," he said, and got up to leave.

"Say...Ash?" Tonks asked hesitantly.

"Yes?" the werewolf asked warily.

"I know it's none of my business, but..."

"But you're going to ask anyway," Ash said with a wry smile.

Tonks took that as tacit permission to ask her question. "The anti-werewolf legislation has been repealed, and the equal rights bill passed. Why are you still working in the black market? I mean--I'm not judging, I'm just curious. Is it still hard for werewolves to find jobs? My cousin Sirius is the Head of Werewolf Support, and he said that things were getting better..."

"This is what I'm good at," Ash said. "This is all I really know how to do. Some of the pack have found jobs, but they're mostly menial labor. Brian is a stockboy, Rachel is a maid, and Kyra cleans animal cages. Lukas and Lupin are the only werewolves who have jobs that pureblood wizards would actually consider respectable. Legally, we're allowed to work, but not that many people are eager to hire us. Your cousin is doing his best, I suppose, but forgive me if the opportunity to wash dishes or change dirty linens doesn't exactly fill me with gratitude. Maybe things will change if Lukas actually manages to become head of the Diggory family, but I'm not going to hold my breath."

"Well, what would you like to do, if you had the opportunity?" Tonks asked.

"I dunno," the werewolf said, looking puzzled. "I don't waste time wishing for things I can't have. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a Quidditch player, but I'd say that's not very likely to happen."

Tonks thought for a moment. "Well, you must know a lot about Muggle technology, considering your line of work."

"Sure," Ash said carelessly. "Most of my customers don't have a clear idea of how to use the devices they're buying, so I usually have to explain it to them. It's the idea of it being forbidden that appeals to them, after all."

"How did you learn so much about it?" Tonks asked. "My dad's a Muggle-born, so I spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, but most of my friends don't have a clue about how most Muggle things work."

"Some of us used to pick up odd jobs in the Muggle world when we couldn't find wizarding work," Ash replied. "Mostly manual labor."

"So you spent a lot of time associating with Muggles?"

"I guess you could say that," Ash said, staring at her suspiciously. "What's with all the questions? I don't see how this is helping to catch your suspect." Kingsley nodded, wondering the same thing.

"It's not," Tonks said. "But I was just thinking that you might be qualified to work in Muggle Relations, or the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department."

Ash threw back his head and laughed out loud. "A werewolf working in the Ministry of Magic? Maybe the spell that turned your hair purple has scrambled your wits, girl!"

"Her name is Tonks," Kingsley growled. "And her wits are perfectly fine."

"Well, the next time there's an opening for Minister of Magic, let me know and I'll apply," the werewolf said sarcastically. "Now if you don't mind, I have business I need to attend to." 

"Thank you, Ash," Tonks said cheerfully. Ash nodded curtly and stalked off, with that peculiar air of grace that most of the werewolves seemed to have.

"Insolent git," Kingsley muttered.

"Well, you can't really blame him for being bitter," Tonks said reasonably. "And he did give us a potential lead."

"True," Kingsley conceded. "I guess we should get back to the office and start digging through back issues of the Daily Prophet. By the way, you weren't serious about him working at the Ministry, were you?"

Tonks frowned. "I don't see anything wrong with it, do you?"

"I don't have anything against a werewolf working at the Ministry," Kingsley replied, "although I might have some reservations about this particular werewolf, since he seems to be a smuggler. But what I meant was that the Ministry would never stand for it."

"Yes, well, a few years ago, the parents wouldn't stand for having a werewolf teacher at Hogwarts, and now there are two of them," Tonks pointed out. "And if Lukas wins his lawsuit, that might give the werewolves a little more respectability. I'll talk to Arthur about it. And as for Ash being a smuggler, you know the saying--set a thief to catch a thief."

Kingsley shook his head, then smiled. "Dawlish and Williamson would have a fit."

Tonks grinned. "Makes the idea even more appealing, doesn't it?"

Kingsley laughed. "It would be worth it, just to see the looks on their faces!"

Their good spirits waned a little, though, when confronted with stacks of old newspapers in a storeroom at the Ministry. "How far back do you think we need to go?" Tonks asked.

"Well, let's start with the last couple of months," Kingsley sighed. "Hopefully we won't have to go too far back, but we don't know how long the culprit was planning this supposed prank."

Tonks picked up a newspaper and turned to the classified section, then smiled ruefully. "And here I thought being an Auror would be such an exciting job when I first joined the Ministry!"

*** 

"I don't see why I have to do this," Snape whined.

"Because I want a family photo," Lupin said stubbornly. "For Merlin's sake, Severus, all you have to do is hold still for a few minutes."

"What do you need a photo for?" Snape grumbled. "You see me every day; it's not like you're going to forget what I look like."

"I don't just want a photo of you," Lupin said. "I want a photo of us together as a family. I thought it might be nice to keep one on my desk in my office."

"Oh for God's sake, Lupin!"

"Besides, the boys are growing up so fast," Lupin said, smiling at Theo and Dylan tenderly. "We should have pictures of them, so we can look back and remember these times."

"I wish I had more pictures of my mother and father," Dylan said with what was genuine wistfulness, although he also milked it for all that it was worth. (He had picked up quite a few pointers in the art of emotional manipulation simply by observing Lupin over the past several months).

Snape's resolve seemed to waver just a bit. "Well..." he said reluctantly.

"Oh, come on, Sev," Lupin said, reaching up to adjust the collar of Snape's dress robes. "You know you're going to give in, so why not just get it over with?"

"Yes, didn't you say that it was easier to give in when the werewolf has his mind set on something?" Dylan asked, grinning widely.

"Don't push your luck, Mr. Rosier," Snape growled, but Dylan just kept grinning, unintimidated. "Very well, let's get this over with!" Snape snapped.

Colin, who had been waiting patiently while Lupin talked Snape into posing for the photo, smiled nervously, "Okay, if you could all move a little closer together...maybe Theodore and Dylan could stand in front of the Professors...no, you're blocking Professor's Lupin's face...could you crouch down a bit, Theodore? Or if the Professor could move to the left just a little, sorry, I mean my left, which I guess would be your right..."

"Is this going to take all day, Creevey?" Snape complained.

"Okay, that's perfect!" Colin said hastily. "Everybody hold that position...er...could you smile, Professor Snape?" Snape gave Colin an evil glare, but altered his expression into something that unfortunately came out as more of a grimace than a smile. "Uh, never mind," Colin said. "Okay, everybody say 'Cheese'!"

"Cheese!" Lupin and Dylan chorused happily. Unlike his foster father, Dylan was perfectly happy to dress up and pose for a few photos. He willingly embraced his image as a peacock, and welcomed the opportunity to wear the dress robes that Lady Selima had given him for Christmas. Theodore, who was also dressed in the robes he had received for Christmas, just laughed.

As the flash went off, Lupin whispered to Snape, "Just imagine the time you sent James those Swelling Solution chocolates on Valentine's Day."

Later, in his office, Lupin looked at the photos Colin had given him--moving pictures, developed with a special magical potion. The first showed the four of them posing together, Lupin and the boys smiling while Snape scowled, then Lupin leaned over and whispered into Snape's ear, and the Potions Master's face broke out in a wicked grin. The second, taken just after the first, showed Lupin kissing Snape on the cheek; Snape's face turned bright red and he glared at Lupin as the boys burst into laughter. Lupin smiled lovingly at the photos. He put the first in a frame and set it on his desk, proudly displaying his family for everyone to see, but the second he filed away out of sight, tucked behind some paperwork in his desk drawer, for his own private enjoyment. His pet rat Kiseki was the only one to witness him take out the photo every now and then when he was alone, and chuckle fondly.

*** 

When court convened at the Ministry of Magic, Lamont Whitby and Amos Diggory had smug smiles on their faces. Morrigan's sources had told her that Whitby had finally been able to dig up evidence of the werewolves' past illegal activities. However, Morrigan and Lukas had come up with a counterattack.

Morrigan stood and said, "Before Mr. Whitby presents his evidence, I would like to submit a list of witnesses for the court to subpoena."

"Let us see this list, Ms. De Lacy," Madam Bones said. Morrigan handed her a very long roll of parchment, and she also gave a copy to Whitby. Bones began reading off the names on the list: "Archibald Abercrombie, Otto Bagman, Henry Bletchley, Darius Diggle, Frederick Flint, Merton Graves, Alasdair Maddock, Olga Odgen, Paul Parkinson--"

An uproar arose in the courtroom from both the spectators and the Wizengamot. The names on the list were all of people who belonged to prominent wizarding families or were famous in their own right, such as Merton Graves, who was a member of the Weird Sisters, or Alasdair Maddock, a famous Quidditch player who was known to have an interest in Muggle sports. A few of the people on the list, such as Olga Odgen, were related to members of the Wizengamot.

"What do you think you're doing, De Lacy?" Whitby shouted angrily, waving the list at her accusingly.

Morrigan smiled at him innocently. "Why, if you are going to accuse Master Diggory of conducting illegal business, will you not also have to question the people that he did business with? Unfortunately, most of them were a bit reluctant to testify voluntarily, so I'll need the court to issue summonses for them to appear."

The uproar grew even louder, and Madam Bones had to bang her gavel loudly several times to restore order. "I will speak to counsel for both sides in chambers!" she declared sternly. 

The lawyers conferred with Bones for several minutes, then returned to the courtroom, Whitby looking furious and Morrigan looking very pleased with herself. Whitby, in a strained tone of voice, asked for a recess, and Morrigan politely said that she had no objection to his request, so Bones adjourned the proceedings until the following week. Reporters eagerly clustered around both parties as they left the courtroom.

"Were you pressured to drop the accusations against Master Diggory?"

"No comment!" Whitby snapped as he and Amos hurried past the reporters.

"Were you involved in illegal activities, Master Diggory? Did you do business with the Weird Sisters?"

"Did Alasdair Maddock purchase Muggle sports equipment from you?"

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions," Morrigan said sweetly. "Just as no one should jump to conclusions about Master Diggory's past." She led Lukas past the reporters, ignoring the rest of their questions. "Well, that worked out very nicely," she said with a grin, when they had finally escaped the reporters.

"So what happened, exactly?" Lukas asked.

"Madam Bones accused both of us of grandstanding and being inflammatory, but she did acknowledge that you have the right to call witnesses on your behalf if you are being accused of a crime. Whitby can't afford to offend that many important wizarding families, so he agreed to drop his allegations if I agreed to drop my witness list. So we accomplished a double victory today--your past crimes cannot be used against you, and the wizarding elite know that you have dirt on them. I think they'll be much less inclined to make an enemy of you now. They won't support your claim, but I think they'll be afraid to actively oppose you."

"Hopefully none of them will try to have me killed in order to silence me," Lukas said dryly.

"This was your idea," Morrigan reminded him. "That's one of the risks you run, tangling with the pureblood elite."

"I'm not afraid of them," Lukas said.

"I don't really think they'll go that far, but just to be sure, I'll drop a few hints that you've left behind information that will be made public and sent to the Daily Prophet in the event of your untimely demise."

"You are a true Slytherin," Lukas said, with amusement but also with genuine respect.

"Of course I am," Morrigan laughed. "Growing up in Slytherin House was good training for my job; Lamont is no match for me. Well, good day, Lukas. I'll see you next week."

"Good day, Morrigan."

Lukas went to the Leaky Cauldron, where he met Narcissa as usual. "I think we need to find a new meeting place," she said with a frown. "I almost got caught coming up to your room." Then she saw the triumphant grin on his face, and said, "But I suppose we can discuss that later. Things went well in court today, I take it ?"

"Very well," he replied, and explained what had happened.

Narcissa frowned again. "I had no idea that you had so many pureblood customers."

"Well, of course we did," Lukas said. "Who else has the money to buy illegal goods?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "But enough talk about the past. Let's celebrate today's victory."

Narcissa smiled, still looking a little troubled, but Lukas could see his desire mirrored in her eyes. "And do you have any dirt on the Malfoy family?" she asked playfully.

He bent down and whispered in her ear, "I hear that Lady Malfoy is sleeping with a werewolf."

"Dreadfully shocking," Narcissa said in a husky voice.

"Absolutely," Lukas agreed, and covered her mouth with his.

Their lovemaking was even more passionate and frenzied than usual, and Lukas returned to Hogwarts, feeling very sated and content. He knew that what he and Narcissa had could not possibly last, but the wolf didn't worry too much about the future, and the man tried not to think about it. His trysts with Narcissa seemed to take place in another world, one completely separate from the rest of his life, from his work at Hogwarts and the bond he shared with his pack. And somehow, perhaps irrationally, he felt that as long as he could keep those two worlds separate, everything would be all right.

Lupin stopped by his quarters to ask how the trial had gone. "From the smile on your face, I'm assuming that things went well."

"Indeed they did," Lukas replied, trying to tone down his smile a bit. It was fortunate that Lupin had mistaken it for pleasure at a court victory rather than a postcoital glow.

Lupin suddenly stared at the other werewolf, looking concerned. "Are you all right, Lukas?"

"Of course I'm fine, Remus," Lukas replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just...er...your ear," Lupin said, gesturing towards his left ear. "There's a bit of dried blood on it. Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," Lukas said, thinking quickly. "I just...ah...stopped by the townhouse to visit the pack. Some of the younger wolves get a bit rambunctious when they play. It's nothing."

"I see," Lupin said, not looking completely convinced, but he didn't try to contradict Lukas. They chatted about the trial for a few minutes, then Lupin excused himself, saying that he had to get back to class.

As soon as Lupin was gone, Lukas examined his reflection in the mirror. His gold-and-emerald earring was missing; Narcissa must have torn it out by accident during their lovemaking. The wound had closed and was no longer visible, but a smear of dried blood remained on his earlobe.

Lukas cursed under his breath, wondering if he ought to go back to the inn to retrieve the earring. It would be a bit embarrassing, and besides, some maid had probably already pocketed it. The earring could be easily replaced now that he had a steady job and a good salary. Then he suddenly remembered that one of his pack members, Rachel, was a maid there. She usually worked the night shift, so hopefully she wouldn't find it and recognize it.

Then he realized that he had something more serious to worry about. The earring was enspelled with a birth control charm, and he had probably lost it while he and Narcissa were making love--and the charm was only effective while one was wearing it. He was filled with panic for a moment before he took a deep breath and managed to calm himself down. 

There was probably nothing to worry about; Narcissa had only one child, Draco, and it was probably not for lack of trying. One male heir was enough to ensure the succession, of course, but most of the purebloods considered it prudent to have a "spare" in case harm befell the first heir or he somehow turned out to be unsuitable. However, many of the pureblood women had difficulty conceiving, and come to think of it, Narcissa had never discussed birth control with him. Which meant that either she was barren or she was using a charm of her own. 

Lukas had not been planning on sleeping with Narcissa when he first met her, of course, but he had bought the charm several years ago and left it more-or-less permanently in his ear, since he had indulged in casual affairs from time to time with some of the female werewolves. Most of the time it was simply an ornamental piece of jewelry, but it had proved convenient when he began sleeping with Narcissa. However, if she had conceived only once in over seventeen years of marriage, it was unlikely that she would get pregnant now.

Lukas breathed a sigh of relief, but resolved to replace the earring anyway.

*** 

Meanwhile, Narcissa was brooding at Malfoy Manor, for entirely different reasons. In spite of the fact that she was sleeping with Lukas, she wasn't sure that she wanted him to win his case. Awarding a pureblood estate to a non-human went against everything she believed in. Of course, her beliefs had not done her much good, now had they? Her perfect pureblood husband had tried to kill their son, and she had been disgraced by her association with the Death Eaters.

But still, those beliefs had been ingrained in her since she was a child, and they were difficult to shake. Narcissa knew that her clandestine affair with Lukas could not last forever. If he became Lord Diggory, he might eventually want to settle down and marry (a Lord needed a Lady, after all), and Narcissa could not bring herself to openly consort with a werewolf. Maybe she was cowardly and ungrateful and bigoted, but she didn't think that she could bear to give up her last shreds of pureblood pride and subject herself to the kind of ridicule that Snape so easily brushed off. Besides, Narcissa could not have married Lukas even if his blood was pure, because Draco wasn't ready to accept a stepfather. She doubted that he would ever be, no matter how many years passed. His feelings for his father were a complicated tangle of love and hate, and she didn't think that he would ever allow anyone to replace Lucius in his life.

And even if Lukas lost his case, once the trial was over, he would have no reason to come to London and the Leaky Cauldron every week. He would probably give up on the pureblood world in disgust and go back to his werewolf pack. No matter how things turned out, their affair would probably end when the trial did.

That thought filled her with an unexpected sense of regret. She didn't know why it should bother her so much. This was only a casual fling, after all; nothing more than pure physical desire. Yet she found herself wishing that the trial would drag on indefinitely...which actually was pretty close to the truth. Lukas's lawyer had told him that it would probably drag on for months. Lukas had been rather disgruntled about it, but Narcissa found herself cheering up slightly. There was no point in borrowing trouble, after all. She would enjoy the moment and worry about the future when the time came. It was silly to be moping about like a lovesick schoolgirl. This was nothing more than sex between two consenting adults who didn't have anyone else to turn to. They were simply using each other to satisfy their physical needs. In fact, by the time the trial was over, they would probably be sick of each other and more than willing to move on.

Narcissa almost managed to convince herself to believe it.

*** 

Everything had been quiet at the school since the Quidditch match, so Dumbledore decided to allow the students to go on their usual trip to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day, with several chaperones to watch over them. To no one's surprise, Snape and Lupin elected to remain behind at the school that day. Lupin kept fluttering his lashes and giving Snape come-hither looks all through breakfast while the Potions Master flushed and glared at him.

"Knock it off, Lupin, or I'll turn you into a toad," Snape growled.

Lupin leaned over and whispered into his ear, "But then who will you sleep with tonight?"

Snape choked on his coffee and broke out into a coughing fit.

"Oh my goodness, Severus!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"No," wheezed Snape, "and I'm going to leave the table before I kill the werewolf or he kills me!" 

"You can't kill Remus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Then we'd be short a teacher."

"I've always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway," Snape retorted, and left the table in a huff. 

"Then again," Lupin said to himself, a lascivious gleam in his eyes, "why wait until tonight?" And he hurried after the Potions Master.

"Well, we won't see those two again for the rest of the day," Lukas muttered under his breath. Branwen just smiled, looking amused.

At the Slytherin table, several of the girls were giggling. "Don't the Professors make such a cute couple?" Yvonne cooed.

Aric pretended to gag. "Oh, please, I think I'm going to be sick!"

"I wasn't talking to you," Yvonne said coldly.

*** 

Snape walked into his quarters and came to an abrupt halt, staring in shock. The walls were decorated with red paper hearts and red and white crepe-paper streamers, and there was a trail of rose petals strewn across the floor leading to the bedroom.

Lupin came up behind Snape, grinning proudly. "So what do you think, Sev?" he asked.

Snape snorted. "So this is why you were late to breakfast this morning. I think it looks like you're trying to compete with Madam Puddifoot's."

"Not quite," Lupin laughed. "No cherubs or confetti, after all." He took Snape's hand. "Come, perhaps this will be more to your liking."

He led Snape to the bedroom, which much to Snape's relief, was free of streamers and paper hearts. There were more rose petals scattered on the floor and across the bed, though, and there was a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine, and two wineglasses on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Yes," Snape said. "Much better." Lupin opened the bottle of wine and filled the glasses. "Isn't it a bit early in the morning for that, Remus?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows. "We just came from breakfast, after all."

"You're right," Lupin said. "It's inappropriate to be drinking this early in the morning." He draped his arms around Snape's neck and leaned in close, growling softly. "So how do you propose we pass the time, Severus?" he asked huskily.

Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist. "Would it be inappropriate to have sex in the morning?" he asked.

Lupin titled his head to one side, pretending to consider the question. "I'm no expert on etiquette, but I've never heard of any rule against it. What about you?"

"Oh, to hell with the rules," Snape said, and kissed Lupin hungrily. The werewolf growled and pushed his mate down onto the bed, sending a spray of rose petals flying up into the air around them.

*** 

After breakfast, the students walked over to Hogsmeade, accompanied by several teachers, including McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick, Satoshi, and Diggory. Draco happened to overhear Diggory telling McGonagall that he was only coming because he had an errand to run, and he wouldn't be able to help chaperone the students.

"That's fine, Master Diggory," McGonagall replied. "There are enough of us to watch over the students without your help."

On the walk to Hogsmeade, Ron walked next to Daphne, close but not quite touching. Millicent winked at Pansy, then strode forward, brushing past Daphne, who instinctively took a step to the side, bringing her closer to Ron. Their hands bumped against each other and they blushed. Daphne did not move away, though, and that gave Ron enough courage to take her hand in his, and she smiled up at him shyly. Ron beamed happily, looking as proud as if he'd just been publicly awarded the Order of Merlin. 

Harry figured that if Ron was able to work up the courage to hold a girl's hand, then he ought to be able to do the same. So he took a deep breath and reached out and clasped Ginny's hand; she squeezed his hand and smiled back at him. Harry felt a wide grin spreading across his face that he knew must look rather silly, but he was so happy that he didn't care.

When they reached Hogsmeade, McGonagall instructed the students to stay on the main street, within sight of the teachers, and not to wander out of the town proper.

Damien and Parvati decided to go to Madam Puddifoot's, along with several other couples, including Pansy and Justin, and Crabbe and Luna. "Want to go to Puddifoot's?" Blaise asked Theodore, who stared at him in horror until he realized that Blaise was joking.

"That's not funny!" Theodore said with a shudder. "If you want me to kiss you in public, I'll do it, but I wouldn't be caught dead in Puddifoot's!"

"I was just teasing," Blaise laughed. "Come on, let's go to Honeydukes; I promised Allegra I'd buy some candy for her."

"By the way, Blaise," Parvati said coyly, "your little sister is quite popular. She got several valentines this morning."

"What?!" cried Blaise. "From boys?"

"Some of them were from boys," Lavender giggled. 

"Which boys?" Blaise demanded. 

"Let's see, I think she got one from Jun Chang, and one from Patrick Parkinson, and--"

"Why, those little--"

Theodore took Blaise by one arm and Goyle grabbed the other before he could run back to Hogwarts to defend his sister's honor. "Calm down," Theodore said, as they steered Blaise in the direction of Honeydukes. "All they did was send Allegra a few heart-shaped pieces of paper, for crying out loud."

"Just tell your brother that he'd better not try anything funny with my little sister!" Blaise called out to Pansy as Theodore and Goyle dragged him away.

"You sure are overprotective, Zabini," Goyle told him. "I feel sorry for your sister's boyfriends when she starts dating."

"He said he's going to lock Allegra in a tower until she's thirty," Theodore informed Goyle.

"I know what boys are like," Blaise grumbled. "Especially Slytherin boys. Nobody's taking my sister into the rose bushes or under the Quidditch stands!"

"You're a Slytherin boy," Theodore pointed out with a grin. "Aren't you lucky that I don't have an older brother defending my virtue?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Blaise said. "Besides, I've never taken you under the Quidditch stands."

"Hey, none of that!" Goyle protested. "Whatever you guys do in private is your business, but I don't wanna hear any details about it!"

Draco felt a little uncomfortable surrounded by so many happy couples. Rosier and Granger, Potter and Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley and Greengrass were heading into The Three Broomsticks hand-in-hand. Greengrass was gazing up at Weasley with a particularly admiring and adoring look--Weasley, for Merlin's sake! What the hell was so special about Weasley? Not that Draco wanted Greengrass gazing at him that way; he found her timid, mousy, and boring. But Draco found it rather annoying that Weasley's lovelife seemed to be progressing better than his own. His relationship with Serafina seemed to be stuck in limbo at the moment. He had agreed that it would be best to remain friends for now, but he found himself growing impatient with the status quo, although he wasn't sure that he was ready for a romantic relationship, either. Maybe it was just that he felt dissatisfied with his life in general lately.

"Do you want to get a butterbeer?" Serafina asked, interrupting his brooding.

Draco was about to say "yes," when he saw Master Diggory heading down the street, away from the town, in the direction of the train station and the lake. There was a certain furtive air about the werewolf that aroused Draco's curiosity.

"Let's see what Diggory's up to," Draco said. "He told McGonagall that he had an errand to run, but he's heading away from town. Maybe he's sneaking off to meet his mysterious girlfriend." Following the werewolf should provide a harmless distraction from his worries, and perhaps provide him with some interesting gossip to share in Slytherin.

"We're not supposed to leave the town," Serafina said dubiously. "We're supposed to stay on the main street, within sight of the teachers."

"Well, technically we'll be within sight of Diggory," Draco reasoned. "But hopefully he won't turn around and see us."

"We'll get in trouble," Serafina argued. 

Draco looked around; the only teacher nearby was Master Satoshi, who was flirting with Madam Rosmerta, and at the moment, his attention seemed to be focused more on her cleavage than on the students he was supposed to be watching.

"Quick, let's go before anyone notices," Draco hissed, and headed after Diggory without waiting for a reply. Serafina hesitated, then followed.

"We're going to wind up in detention," she complained.

"Shh, keep your voice down," Draco whispered. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Someone has to keep Master Diggory from killing you if he catches you spying on him," Serafina whispered back.

"Why Sera, I didn't know that you cared," Draco said with a grin. Serafina tried to glare at him, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, and suddenly Draco felt much better. He felt as if he was going on an adventure; almost as much fun as spying on Potter and getting him into trouble had been in the old days.

Fortunately, Diggory seemed intent on his errand, and didn't notice that he was being followed. He headed past the station down to the lake, and paused by the shore in a spot that was partially shielded by a dense growth of shrubbery. Draco and Serafina ducked behind a bush and waited to see what would happen. Diggory paced by the shore, looking impatient, and after a few minutes, they heard the cracking sound of someone Apparating, and a woman dressed in a hooded cloak appeared carrying a picnic basket in one hand. The woman pushed back her hood and smiled at the werewolf, and Draco gasped, because the woman was his mother.

Serafina quickly clamped her hand over his mouth, which was a good thing, because otherwise he might have screamed when he saw Diggory kiss Narcissa passionately. Diggory's keen werewolf ears might still have picked up the muffled, strangled noise Draco made if he had not otherwise been occupied, but he seemed to be too absorbed in shoving his tongue down Draco's mother's throat to notice anything else. Draco's first instinct was to grab his wand and hex the werewolf, but Serafina wrapped her free arm around him tightly, pinning his arms to his sides. She placed her mouth next to his ear and whispered in a barely audible yet fierce voice, "Don't do anything stupid, Draco!"

The sensation of Serafina's body pressed against his proved a little unsettling, though in a pleasurable sort of way, which disarmed him enough for him to regain control of his temper. He was still angry, but he relaxed slightly and Serafina loosened her grip on him although she still kept her hand over his mouth. Since that required her to remain in physical contact with him, Draco didn't object.

Narcissa pulled away from Diggory and asked nervously, "Are you sure this is safe, Lukas? It's so close to the town..."

"The students aren't supposed to leave the town," Diggory said.

"The students aren't supposed to do a lot of things," Narcissa said tartly, "but that doesn't always stop them. I should know; I was a student once myself."

"The other teachers are shepherding our little charges," Diggory said, sounding unconcerned. "But I'll cast a spell of obscurement, just to be on the safe side." He took out his wand and muttered a brief incantation, and the air around himself and Narcissa seemed to shimmer and blur. 

However, Draco rubbed his eyes and concentrated hard, and found that he was still able to see and hear his mother and his teacher. A spell of obscurement did not actually make someone invisible; rather, it employed misdirection, causing the eyes of any casual watchers to skip over the spot and look elsewhere, and causing any sound in the area to blend into indiscriminate background noise. But that only worked if a person wasn't actively trying to see through the spell. Because Draco and Serafina already knew where Diggory and Narcissa were, it was easy enough for them to see past the enchantment.

"Besides," Diggory told Narcissa, "it's not safe to meet at the Leaky Cauldron anymore. People have begun to take notice of my weekly visits there." He sneered a little and said bitterly, "And I'm sure that you wouldn't want a werewolf to sully the halls of Malfoy Manor."

"I know you have a townhouse in London," Narcissa snapped, "and you haven't invited me there, either!"

"Several of my pack members live there," Diggory retorted, "and I didn't think that you'd care to associate with any other werewolves. You've made it perfectly clear that you can barely tolerate my presence."

"That may be true," Narcissa said, "but that's not why you've never invited me over. You're ashamed of me, aren't you? You're constantly harping about your contempt for the purebloods, and you don't want your precious werewolves to know that you're actually sleeping with one!"

Diggory's face turned red and he snarled, "Ashamed? Hah! Who's the one sneaking around in disguise? You're the one who can't bear to be seen in public with a werewolf! What would all your pureblood friends say if they knew you were sleeping with a beast?!"

"I don't really have any friends left," Narcissa said quietly, suddenly looking tired instead of angry. "Except perhaps Aileen and Delia. So I suppose that my reputation doesn't matter very much. But Draco's does. He's already suffered enough because of his father and me." Diggory said nothing, just stood there with a brooding look on his face. Narcissa sighed and said, "Please, Lukas, we only have a couple of hours before you have to go back to Hogwarts. Let's not waste that time fighting."

Diggory was silent for a long time, then finally said, "I suppose you're right." Narcissa set the basket down on the ground, and Diggory raised an eyebrow. "A picnic lunch?" he said, a little sarcastically. "My, how romantic."

"It is Valentine's Day, after all," Narcissa said with an ironic little smile.

"I'm afraid that I didn't bring you any flowers," Diggory said.

"That's all right, Lukas," Narcissa said, with that same ironic smile. "I didn't expect you to."

Diggory held out one hand and muttered a charm under his breath, and a flower suddenly materialized in his palm. It was a single, perfect, long-stemmed rose that looked as if it had been freshly picked: the petals were just beginning to unfurl, and were beaded with glistening drops of dew.

"How lovely," Narcissa said as he handed it to her.

Diggory's lips curved into something that seemed too sad and bitter to actually be called a smile. "It will vanish in an hour or two," he said. "It's only an illusion, something insubstantial--rather like us."

"Then we should enjoy it while it lasts," Narcissa said quietly.

"Yes, I suppose so," Diggory said, just as quietly. He conjured up a blanket and spread it out on the ground. Narcissa opened the basket, revealing a bottle of wine and some bread, cheese, and fruit. "A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou?" Diggory asked with a faint smile.

"Shall we start with some wine?" Narcissa suggested.

"I'd rather start with thou," Diggory said in a low growl, pulling her into his arms.

Serafina tugged on Draco's sleeve and nodded in the direction of the road back to Hogsmeade. Since Draco didn't want to watch the werewolf shag his mother, he followed without resistance, although a part of him was tempted to leap out of the bushes shouting at his mother and Diggory that he had seen them.

"How could she?" cried Draco, when they were a safe distance away from the lake.

"She's a widow now," Serafina said in a reasonable tone of voice. "And Master Diggory is single. There's no reason why they can't be...seeing each other."

"She's only a widow because she murdered my father!" Draco snarled.

"She killed him because he was going to kill you!" Serafina retorted.

"I know, but..." The expression on Draco's face changed from anger into confusion. "But he was still my dad."

"I know, Draco," Serafina said in a more sympathetic tone. "But she did it to protect you, and what's done is done. I know it's hard for you, but don't you think it must be hard for your mother, too? You at least have your friends here at school, but your mother is all alone in Malfoy Manor. She must be very lonely."

"But does she have to comfort herself with the werewolf?" Draco wailed in an aggrieved tone of voice.

"Don't you like Master Diggory?" Serafina asked patiently.

"He's okay as a teacher, but I don't want him as a bloody stepfather! How would you feel if it was your mother?!"

Serafina paused to think. "As long as my mother was happy, I don't think I'd mind. Master Diggory seems like a good person. He wouldn't beat her or yell at her the way my father did. So I guess I would be okay with it."

"You wouldn't care if your mother was shagging a beast?" Draco shouted. "I can't believe that...that...animal has been putting his grubby paws on my mother all this time!"

Serafina gave him a contemptuous look. "Come talk to me again when you're ready to behave like a human being," she said, and increased her pace, continuing on to Hogsmeade without looking back. 

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Draco snapped, but Serafina did not respond. Draco followed her back to Hogsmeade in sulky silence.

Satoshi was standing outside The Three Broomsticks looking around nervously when he spotted Draco and Serafina. "Ah, there you are!" he said, sounding relieved. "You know you're not supposed to wander off like that."

"I'm sorry, Master Satoshi," Serafina said politely. "We just went for a little walk."

Satoshi smiled knowingly at them and winked. "Well, of course you'd want a little privacy, seeing as how it's Valentine's Day and all, but rules are rules." He lowered his voice and added, "And I'd be in big trouble if McGonagall found out I lost two students. So I won't squeal on you two if you don't squeal on me." He winked at them again. "Deal?"

"Deal," Serafina said.

"Good," Satoshi said. "Now, your mother was asking for you. Why don't you go in and say hello to her?"

"Yes, sir," Serafina said. "We didn't mean to cause any trouble for you."

"No harm done, Miss Avery. Just stay put for the rest of the day, all right?"

"Yes, sir," Serafina said, and went into the inn to greet her mother. 

Draco remained outside, still looking sulky. "What's the matter?" Satoshi asked with a smile. "Your romantic walk with Miss Avery didn't go well?"

"You might say that," Draco muttered.

Satoshi sighed and slipped an arm around his shoulder. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I struck out, too," he sighed. "The fair Rosmerta was only toying with my heart, it seems. Come, Mr. Malfoy, I'll buy you a butterbeer, and we can commiserate together."

Draco gritted his teeth together, biting back an insult and fighting the urge to shove the tanuki's arm away. He didn't feel like commiserating with anyone--and especially not a shapeshifter--in his current mood, but he had already just barely escaped detention by being caught leaving Hogsmeade. Not that he really cared about detention or House points at the moment. He felt like screaming or crying--or both. But instead he let Satoshi lead him into the inn and buy him a tankard of butterbeer.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupin and Snape try to help a troubled Draco and Aric; Takeshi has a strange dream about a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter only: sexual overtones in a dream about a wolf, but no actual bestiality takes place.

The Slytherins noticed that Draco seemed to be grumpy and out of sorts lately, but no one other than Serafina knew why. Since his bad mood had started right after Valentine's Day, most of them assumed that he'd had a date with Serafina that went badly--if they wondered about it at all. Since they no longer had to fear the Malfoy family's anger, most of the Slytherins didn't waste time worrying about what was bothering Draco. In fact, some of the younger students who had been subject to Draco's bullying in the past took great pleasure in being able to ignore him.

A few of Draco's housemates did care, either because they were his friends or because his bad mood had a direct effect on them--such as the Slytherin Quidditch players. One afternoon during practice, Draco seemed to find fault with everything the team did.

"You're supposed to be aiming the Bludgers at the other team, you dolts, not our side!" Draco raged at Crabbe and Goyle. "You nearly clobbered Theodore!" Draco felt a surge of jealousy, and his words were tinged with bitterness as he added, "And Snape won't like it if his son's head gets split open by a Bludger a second time!"

"Sorry, Draco," Crabbe and Goyle muttered.

"It's no big deal, Draco," Theodore said, sounding a little surprised. "I'm okay, and besides, it was probably my fault for changing direction at the last minute. They didn't realize that I was going to veer off to the left like that."

Draco turned on Theodore and snapped, "Who's Captain of this team, Snape--you or me?" 

Taken aback, Theodore said, "Well, you are...but..."

"Take it easy, Malfoy," Damien said soothingly, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder.

Draco angrily shrugged it off. "And you, Pierce--have you gone blind? Even an idiot like Longbottom could've caught that last pass! How do you expect us to win our next match with that kind of shoddy playing?"

"That's assuming there even is a next match," Damien said stiffly, not liking Draco's tone of voice. "Dumbledore still hasn't decided whether to let them resume or not."

"Well, that's just fine, then!" Draco snarled. "If none of you lot care whether we win or not, then this practice is just a waste of time!"

"That's not what he said, Draco," Malcolm protested.

"When I want your opinion, Baddock, I'll ask for it!" Draco shouted. 

"Don't take it out on us just because you're in a bad mood, Malfoy," Malcolm said quietly. "We might have had to put up with it in the past, but we don't have to take it anymore."

"Why, you insolent little--" Draco cried, lunging at Malcolm. Dylan and Damien grabbed him and held him back.

"Look, we're all a little out of sorts today," Dylan said placatingly to the rest of the team, although it was obvious that Draco was the only one who was out of sorts. "Why don't we just call it a day?"

The team members nodded and left, except for Dylan, Damien, and Theodore. Even though he knew that Dylan was trying to help him by smoothing things over, Draco felt angry and resentful over the way Dylan had assumed control of the situation--and by the way everyone had obeyed Dylan without question.

"Trying to take over my position, Rosier?" Draco asked bitterly. "If you want to be Captain that badly, all you have to do is ask Snape. You've always been his pet, so I'm sure he'd give it to you. Or are you not his favorite anymore now that he's adopted an heir?"

"What are you talking about, Draco?" Dylan asked, frowning. "I'm not interested in competing against you, and certainly not against my own brother. I was just trying to keep the rest of the team from killing you. They aren't going to stand for that kind of attitude anymore."

"Attitude?" Draco asked indignantly, although he knew perfectly well what Dylan meant.

"You've started acting like the old Malfoy recently," Damien told him bluntly. "You know, the obnoxious git who likes to order everyone around, and expects everyone to kiss his arse?"

"How dare you!" Draco cried.

"You know you can't get away with that kind of thing anymore, Draco," Damien said, in a surprisingly sympathetic voice. "People only stood for it because they were afraid of your father, and now he's dead." Draco flinched, and Damien continued, "I know it must've been hard losing your dad, but you're a Slytherin, Draco--you know you've got to adapt in order to survive when the situation changes. You've been doing pretty well up until now." Damien smiled at him and threw an arm around his shoulders. "It's our job as your friends to remind you when you're backsliding, remember?"

Draco mistook the compassion in Damien's eyes for pity, and it made him even more furious. He shoved the red-haired boy away from him and snarled, "Go to hell, Pierce!"

Damien looked hurt, and Dylan asked in a concerned voice, "What's wrong, Draco?"

"Nothing's wrong, except that I'm surrounded by idiots!" Draco snapped.

Theodore gave Draco a cold look; having been Draco's lackey for most of his life, he had less patience with his former leader than the other two boys did. "We're trying to help you, Draco. But if you keep this up, you're going to wind up as friendless and hated as Dietrich is."

"I don't care!" Draco cried, and ran off the Pitch back to the castle.

"What's eating him?" Damien asked, in a tone that was more puzzled than angry. 

"He's been like this ever since Valentine's Day," Dylan said. "Did he have a fight with Serafina or something?"

"I don't know," Theodore said with a shrug. "I asked her, but she won't talk about it. Says that it's personal and he has to work it out for himself."

"Well, whatever it is, I hope he gets over it soon," Damien sighed.

*** 

Draco ran back to the dorm and locked himself in his room. How could he confide in Dylan or Theo when what was bothering him was that his mother was shagging a werewolf? Their foster father was a werewolf, not to mention a friend of Diggory's, and they would probably think the whole thing was just fine and dandy. Like Serafina, they'd probably wonder why he was making such a big deal out of it.

Besides, he was so jealous of them that he could barely stand it. First there was Rosier, who had been Snape's pet from the minute he had entered Hogwarts, who was adored by everyone and seemed to excel at everything he tried, from Potions to Quidditch. It had just barely been tolerable when Draco had been the undisputed leader of Slytherin House and Rosier was still his subordinate, but now Draco was painfully aware that the other Slytherins remained on friendly terms with him mainly because of Dylan's influence. It was almost unbearable, being forced to live off Rosier's charity. 

And then there was Nott, who was no longer a Nott but a Snape. In some ways it was even worse being bested by Theodore than by Rosier. Everyone agreed that Dylan was exceptional, almost too good to be true, but Theodore had merely been Draco's lackey up until seventh year. There had been nothing exceptional about him--he was not ugly, but not especially handsome, either; his grades were respectable, but nowhere near as good as Draco's; and he had come from a wealthy pureblood family, but not one as wealthy or respected as the Malfoys.

But now Theodore's grades had vastly improved, and Draco realized to his chagrin that Theodore had been holding back so as not to outshine his leader. Now that he was no longer holding back, he picked up just as many points in class as Draco did, and he even scored higher in a few classes than Draco did. Not Potions, somewhat to Draco's surprise--apparently Snape wasn't allowing nepotism to affect his grades--or Incantations and Summonings. However, the latter might be partially due to the fact that Finnigan and Thomas had botched their first Summonings project, since the teams received a communal grade. And in their end-of-term exams just before Christmas vacation, Theo had outscored Draco in both Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had also achieved the top score in Ancient Runes, although neither Draco nor Granger were in that class.

Theodore also carried himself with more confidence now, instead of slouching and skulking around, and Draco had overheard a few of the girls regarding him with surprise, saying that he had somehow gotten better looking this year and it was a pity that he was gay. And Theodore was no longer from a middle-ranked family, but was the heir to one of the oldest and wealthiest pureblood families in the wizarding world. Technically, he outranked Draco now that the Malfoys were disgraced, and that knowledge smarted.

But what hurt most of all was that Dylan and Theo now outranked him in Snape's eyes. This surprised Draco a little, because although he had enjoyed being Snape's favorite student, enjoyed knowing that his family was so powerful that even the Potions Master had to cater to him to a certain degree, he had never really regarded Snape with a great deal of affection. He didn't have a bond of friendship with Snape the way that Potter, Weasley, and Granger did with Hagrid, nor did he adore Snape the way that almost all the students seemed to adore Lupin.

But Snape was someone that Draco looked up to, one of the few people that he actually respected. And Draco was just beginning to realize how much he had depended on Snape over the years. He remembered the time that Snape had calmed him down and given him tea and brandy, as well as some good advice, after Moody had turned him into a ferret, and of course there were all the times that Draco had gone to Snape for reassurance after his father had been arrested and exposed as a Death Eater. 

Snape was not comforting in the way that Lupin was, of course, but he had tried to reassure Draco in his own brusque way--but not too much, Draco now realized. He had wanted Draco to be a little afraid, to question whether joining the Death Eaters really was a good idea. That was what Lupin had said, the night after the final battle, that Snape had wanted to save him from the Death Eaters. And he had; he and Lupin had saved Draco's life when his own father would have let him die, even after Draco had attacked Snape and called him a traitor.

In some ways Snape had been more of a father figure to Draco than Lucius had. It was Snape who was responsible for Draco's education; it was Snape that Draco spent nearly three-quarters of every year with. When you stopped to think about it, Draco had spent much more time with Snape than he had with his parents. And Snape had always praised him lavishly, as his father never had. Draco had enjoyed hearing those praises, even though he had known that they were motivated more by a desire to stay on Lucius Malfoy's good side than by Draco's skill as a student or a Quidditch player. 

He had grown used to having Snape around to teach him, flatter him, and help keep him out of trouble when he got caught fighting with or pulling some prank on Potter. He had grown used to depending on Snape; he had taken it for granted that Snape would always be there for him, if only because Lucius Malfoy was Snape's superior in the Death Eaters. It had never occurred to him that Snape might not really be a loyal Death Eater. It had never occurred to him that someone might usurp his position as Snape's favorite.

Draco remembered all the effort that Lupin and Snape had spent trying to gain his trust and win him away from the Death Eaters, although he had been too thick to realize it back then. And he supposed that they still cared about him. Lupin was still kind to Draco, and had helped him find Serafina's Christmas present, and Snape had been concerned about his lack of opportunities at the Career Fair, and had offered to find him an apprenticeship or overseas study program. 

He had kept his promise, and found Draco not one, but two possible positions: Professor Kamiyama, the co-creator of the Wolfsbane Potion, had volunteered to take on Draco as a pupil and help him earn his Master qualification, and an American colleague of Snape's was working on developing new types of Healing Potions and needed an assistant. But although Snape and Lupin cared about him, they cared about Dylan and Theo more; their adopted sons had become the focus of their lives. And that hurt.

Draco laughed at himself mockingly. Was he really getting all sentimental over Snape, of all people? Did he really want Snape to be his surrogate dad? His laughter trailed off, because his heart told him that those two questions weren't really as ridiculous as they sounded. And then he asked himself if he was really upset because his mother was having an affair with a werewolf, or simply because she was having an affair, period. If she had been seeing, for example, Snape, would that be more tolerable?

Aside from the fact that Snape was (a) not interested in women and (b) already had a lover, Draco couldn't really picture Snape and his mother together. They were too different; he couldn't see Snape escorting Narcissa to parties and paying her gallant compliments about her beauty the way Lucius had. And he couldn't see Narcissa cheerfully putting up with Snape's bad temper the way Lupin did. Draco didn't really want Snape to marry Narcissa and become his stepfather, but he would have liked it if Snape had become his mentor and looked after him in a fatherly way, like he had for Dylan.

Maybe that was what had really bugged him the most about the oh-so-perfect Dylan Rosier. That Snape had befriended Dylan and watched over him not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Snape had done things for Dylan that he never had for Draco--told him stories about his father's schoolboy days and asked Dylan to help him brew his potions. In fact, not just Snape, but most of the teachers and students had immediately liked Dylan, not because of who his father was--if anything, his father's reputation had been a liability--but simply because he was handsome and charming and smart. 

And that was why Draco found himself hating both Dylan and Theo right now. Back then, Draco hadn't minded that all the attention and praise he received from Snape was because he was Lucius Malfoy's son, but now the false flattery paled next to the true concern and love Snape showed for his own sons. Snape had actually hugged Dylan on the Quidditch Pitch, for Merlin's sake! And he had seen the terror in Snape's eyes when Theo had been struck by the Bludger, had seen the way that Snape had gently and protectively cradled Theo against his chest as he flew his wounded son back down to the Pitch. 

Even Lupin, who treated all of his students with affection, seemed to have a special glow in his eyes when he looked at Theo and Dylan. Snape and Lupin cared about Draco, yes, but in the same way that they would care about any student. He was no longer anyone special.

Draco wasn't sure why it should suddenly hurt so much now. He hadn't liked his new status in Slytherin, but he had accepted it, and he had been grateful for Dylan's and Theo's friendship. But watching the two of them grow closer to their adoptive parents reminded Draco of just how much he had lost. It made him hate them for having a father--two fathers--when he had none. And he hated them because Snape and Lupin loved them the way that Lucius had never loved him.

He missed his father, even if Lucius Malfoy had been a cold-hearted bastard. He had worshipped his father, been in awe of him ever since he was a little boy. Lucius, who always carried himself with an air of cool, collected dignity, every strand of silver-blond hair perfectly in place. Lucius, who was so powerful that everyone feared him, even Snape. The smallest nod of approval, the briefest caress of affection--a mere pat on the head or shoulder--had been enough to fill Draco with joy. And conversely, a curt word of disapproval, a brief look of contempt when Potter bested him on the Quidditch Pitch, would fill Draco with a desperate desire to please his father, and a sickening fear that nothing he did would ever meet with his father's approval. His father had bought him plenty of things--expensive clothes and toys and even the Seeker position on the Slytherin team--but he had never looked at Draco the way that Snape and Lupin looked at Theo and Dylan, with love and pride in his eyes.

As for Cyril Diggory who was formerly Lukas Bleddri, Draco had once liked him in an offhand way. He had admired Bleddri's strength and skill, and he had been proud when Master Bleddri praised him in class, because Bleddri had no House ties and didn't give a damn whether Draco was Lucius Malfoy's son or not. Neither did Bleddri go out of his way to be nice to a student because he felt sorry for them, the way Lupin might. Whatever praise Draco received in that class, he had earned himself, and it had felt surprisingly good. And although a proper wizard was supposed to find physical combat demeaning, Draco had enjoyed the exhilaration of a good fight, the feeling of triumph when he defeated an opponent (especially when that opponent was Potter or Weasley or Dietrich).

And now Bleddri--or rather, Diggory--had ruined it all! Even though Draco hated Lucius, he still hated seeing someone else usurp his father's place. He hated Narcissa for betraying his father's memory, and he hated Diggory for making him hate Narcissa. His mother was the one person who had loved Draco without reservation, and now Diggory had come between them. Now Draco was truly alone, because he couldn't confide in or trust his own mother. He couldn't even take any pleasure in what had once been one of his favorite classes, because the damn werewolf was teaching it! The stupid werewolf had gotten above himself lately--acting all high and mighty ever since his true identity had been revealed. It was apparently not enough for him to try and seize control of a pureblood estate, but he had to take a pureblood woman to his bed, too!

A small part of Draco's mind was aware that he was not thinking rationally, but he didn't care, letting his anger and bitterness overwhelm that small voice of reason, because the anger was much more satisfying than being "reasonable" and trying to accept a situation he didn't like, the way Avery and Rosier and Pierce seemed to think he should. Let them see how reasonable they could be when it was their mother having a sordid affair with their werewolf teacher! Draco clenched his fists, resolving to himself that he was never, ever going to forgive the werewolf for what he had done...

*** 

Lupin noticed that Draco was sullen and moody of late, and asked him to remain behind after class one day. "Is everything all right, Draco?" he asked in a gentle voice, his blue eyes filled with concern.

A part of Draco was happy that Lupin had finally noticed him, while another part of him was resentful that it had taken Lupin so long to realize that something was bothering him. "My father's dead, the Ministry took half of our savings, and my family's been branded as Death Eaters in the public eye," Draco said sarcastically. "Everything is just peachy, Professor."

Lupin did not point out that all of those things had been true since the beginning of the school year, but it showed in his puzzled expression. "Has someone been giving you a hard time recently, Draco?" he asked.

"Not really," Draco mumbled.

Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Why don't we go to my office for a cup of tea and have a little chat?"

Draco allowed Lupin to lead him to his office, but there was no way that he could tell Lupin about Narcissa and Diggory. Lupin was a werewolf himself, after all, and it would be pretty insulting to tell Lupin that he didn't want his mother to date a werewolf. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him that it wasn't really Diggory's lycanthropy that was the problem. 

"Please have a seat, Draco," Lupin said, gently pushing Draco down into a chair. He fussed over Draco, fixing him a cup of tea--and he even remembered how Draco liked to take it (sugar, no milk), which surprised and touched Draco. Lupin smiled at him so kindly that it almost brought tears to his eyes, and Draco was tempted to confess everything to him. 

But then he caught sight of the framed photo on Lupin's desk: Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan smiling and laughing together, and Snape, who was scowling at the camera in his usual grumpy manner until Lupin leaned over, a mischievous look on his face, and whispered something into Snape's ear that made his face break out in a wide grin. They looked like a family--like the happy family that Draco had never really had, although they had seemed happy on the surface, and it suddenly reminded Draco that he was the outsider here. Lupin was just being nice to him, the way he would be nice to Crabbe or Goyle or Longbottom. It was nothing special.

Draco stood abruptly and set the cup of tea down on Lupin's desk as the werewolf blinked in confusion. "Sorry, Professor, I just remembered something I have to do." 

"But Draco--" Lupin protested.

"Thanks for the tea, Professor," Draco said, and ran out of the office.

*** 

"Draco, wait!" Lupin called, but the boy was already gone. Lupin sighed, wondering if he should go after Draco or give him some time alone to deal with whatever it was that was bothering him. Now was not really a good time for Lupin to be dealing with troubled students, but was there ever a good time for such things? Lupin already had a number of things to worry about at the moment. In addition to the tensions between Slytherin and the other Houses, not to mention the unknown prankster, he was concerned about the Longbottoms' obvious distrust of Severus, and he was trying to keep in touch with Tonks and Kingsley to see how the investigation was going.

Tonks had recently told him that they had managed to track down the probable source of the tape recorder, a wizard who had sold a used device through a classified ad in the Daily Prophet. However, the person who bought it had sent payment anonymously by owl, and the seller had no idea who the buyer was or even where the tape recorder had been sent. He had simply sent the recorder back with the same owl who had brought the payment. When questioned about what the owl looked like, the seller had shrugged and said it was "big and brown," Tonks had told Lupin with a sigh. Unfortunately, at least half of the birds in the Owlery matched that description. Tonks had joked that they should do a line-up of the birds for the seller to identify, but it would probably be useless, as one owl pretty much looked the same as another to most people. 

(Not to Lupin, who could recognize most of the school owls on sight, and could pick out Socrates and Blodwen even if they were hidden among a dozen birds of the same species, but most people only saw the owls as message-carriers, while Lupin saw the birds as individuals, each with their own personality. His own animal nature made him a little more sympathetic towards them, and regard them as something more than just useful tools.)

On top of all that, Severus's birthday fell on the 21st, exactly one week after Valentine's Day. Lady Selima wanted to have a party for him, but Severus hated parties, so Lupin had to run interference between them, and managed to persuade Selima to have a quiet dinner just for the family. However, he still had to get Severus's birthday gift ready and take the boys shopping so that they could buy gifts for him, too.

"I didn't realize that the Professor's birthday was next week!" Dylan had exclaimed. "You should have told us; we could have picked up something in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day."

"Sorry," Lupin had said sheepishly. "With everything that's been going on lately, I almost forgot until I got Selima's letter. And Severus doesn't like to make a big deal about it. I usually just give him a small gift and share a glass of wine with him in his quarters." And make love all night, but Lupin didn't think that the boys really needed to know that.

Anyway, the boys were adamant that they had to get Severus a birthday present, so Lupin had promised to take them shopping on Saturday. And of course Lupin still had his regular duties to attend to--lesson plans to prepare and papers to grade, as well as talking to the students who stopped by his office for help on their lessons or just because they needed someone to talk to.

Lupin was very busy, but if Draco needed him, he would make time for him. However, that required Draco to stay put in one place long enough for Lupin to talk to him. In the end, Lupin decided to consult with Dylan and Theo to see how serious the situation was.

"Draco's been in a snit ever since Valentine's Day," Theo told him.

"The consensus seems to be that he had a fight with Serafina," Dylan added. "Maybe a lover's spat."

"Oh," Lupin said, feeling relieved. That didn't sound too bad. Of course, it was probably hard on Draco, but every couple had their ups and downs, and Serafina, despite her quiet nature, was stubborn and strong-willed. She was the one person in Slytherin who had never been afraid of Draco and had never tried to flatter him. Lupin thought that was good for Draco, but the two of them were bound to clash from time to time, especially when Draco temporarily slipped back into his spoiled, snobbish ways.

"What does Serafina say?" Lupin asked.

"That it's personal and Draco has to work it out for himself," Theodore replied.

So Lupin decided that it was safe to give Draco and Serafina some time to work out their problems on their own. If Draco still seemed troubled next week, then Lupin would have another chat with him--by sentencing him to detention, if necessary. Feeling much better now that he had made that resolution, Lupin turned his attention back to the birthday plans for Severus.

*** 

Serafina ignored Draco at mealtimes and in the common room. She didn't avoid him, exactly, but she didn't seek him out or initiate any conversations with him. Mostly she behaved as she normally did, keeping to herself as she studied alone beside the fireplace, taking a break every now and then to play with Bast when the kitten batted at her textbook with one paw or tried to pounce on her homework. Draco was too proud to approach her and apologize, so he sulked in silence. He spent a lot of time alone in his room, especially when Snape and Lupin stopped by the common room for their semi-regular visits.

The last few Quidditch practices had not gone well, and Draco could tell that Dylan was getting tired of trying to play peacemaker. The team had begun to avoid him outside of practice and class, and Draco similarly tried to avoid Theo and Dylan, who only served to remind him of his misery.

Draco was so lonely that he finally broke down and sought out Lupin late one afternoon, about half an hour before dinner was supposed to start. He wasn't sure whether or not he was going to tell Lupin about Narcissa and Diggory, but he wanted to see a friendly face for a change, and if nothing else, it would be nice to have a cup of tea with Lupin, even if Lupin didn't care about him as much as he did Theo and Dylan.

But Lupin was not in his office or his classroom. After much inner debate and nervous pacing, Draco finally worked up the courage to knock on the door of Snape's quarters, but neither Lupin nor Snape responded. Puzzled and discouraged, Draco headed to the dorm and found Damien lounging on the couch in the common room. "Have you seen Professor Lupin?" he asked.

Damien looked surprised to hear Draco addressing him in a reasonably polite tone of voice. "Oh, didn't you hear? He's gone to Snape Manor with Snape and Dylan and Theo. It's Snape's birthday, so Lady Selima invited them over for dinner."

"I didn't know it was Snape's birthday," Draco said.

"Lupin says that Snape doesn't like to make a big deal about it," Damien said with a shrug. "But you know Lady Selima--it wouldn't be proper not to celebrate Lord Snape's birthday. Snape didn't want a big party, so they're just having dinner with the family."

"How come I didn't hear about this?" Draco asked indignantly.

"Well, you haven't been hanging around the common room much lately, Malfoy," Damien pointed out. "Dylan and Theo were just talking about it the other night, but you weren't here." Draco tried not to show how upset he felt, but he must not have been entirely successful, because Damien began to look a little concerned. "Is everything all right, Draco? If you really need to talk to Lupin, they should be back in a couple of hours. If it's an emergency, you could probably contact them through the Floo--"

"Never mind," Draco said in a flat voice. "It's no big deal." 

"Are you sure?" Damien asked dubiously. "Draco--"

Draco ignored him and headed to his room, a feeling of cold resentment slowly spreading through his heart. Lupin and Snape were never there when he needed them; well, he wasn't going to depend on them anymore! If all they cared about was Theo and Dylan, then he didn't need them. He was a Malfoy; he didn't need anyone...

*** 

Unaware of Draco's malcontent, the Snape family sat down to dinner. Vorcher had prepared a splendid meal, with all the Master's favorite foods, and the finest bottle of wine that the Snape wine cellar had to offer. As they ate, they made polite small talk over dinner. Or at least what passed for "polite" in the Snape household, which was to say not very...

"Has that refugee from a bad Shakespearean play been by lately?" Snape asked sourly.

"Severus," Lupin chided gently.

"If you are referring to Prospero," Lady Selima said coolly, "no, he has not. You know it would not be proper for me to entertain gentlemen callers alone until the mourning period has passed."

"Aren't you a bit old to need a chaperone?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"Severus!" Lupin scolded, but not too forcefully, because there almost seemed to be a sense of ease and familiarity in the way the two Snapes were sniping at each other, like putting on a well-worn but comfortable robe or pair of slippers. Lupin smiled, lifting his glass of wine to his lips. He supposed that he should feel reassured; it was actually when they reverted to stiff, polite formality that things were most tense and troubled between them. 

"The social proprieties must be observed, Severus," Selima replied. "However, he has been writing to tell me how his new book is progressing. Not that I read that sort of tripe, but he seems quite excited about it. The protagonist is a werewolf, apparently, and he says that Professor Lupin's information has proven invaluable."

"I'm so happy!" Lupin said delightedly. "I can't wait to read it!" Snape sighed heavily, rolling his eyes; Lupin laughed; the boys smiled; and Selima regarded them all with a patient but long-suffering look. Lupin's inner wolf growled happily, because all was well with his family.

For dessert, there was a very delicious-looking cake baked by Vorcher, but Lupin felt a little disappointed when he saw it. "No candles?" he asked.

"I hardly think that's necessary at my age, Lupin," Snape said sardonically. "Besides, it might be a little hard to fit thirty-eight candles on the cake."

"Just one, then," Lupin said, and he took out his wand and conjured up a lit candle in the center of the cake. 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Lupin!" Snape said irritably. "Of all the childish--"

"Just indulge me, Severus," Lupin said sweetly. "Blow out the candle and make a wish."

"Oh, just humor him, Severus," Selima said impatiently. "We'll be here all night, otherwise."

Snape made a point of glowering fiercely at Lupin, who just grinned back at him. Then he leaned forward and blew out the candle. "Happy, Lupin?" he asked sarcastically.

"Delighted, Sev," Lupin said, still grinning.

"So what did you wish for, Professor?" Dylan asked.

"He can't tell you his wish or it won't come true," Lupin objected.

"Just how old are you, Lupin?" Snape asked in disbelief, and Lupin laughed. "Well, even if I believed in such nonsense, which I don't, there should be no trouble with my wish coming true." A very satisfied and wicked smile spread across Snape's face. "You see, I wished to finally be rid of Mr. Potter at the end of term, and after seven long years--seven _very_ long years!--he is finally graduating." 

Dylan and Theo burst into laughter, and Lupin pretended to frown and said, "Well, don't blame me if you're stuck with Harry for another year, Sev!"

Snape looked horrified for a brief moment, then he snorted in derision. "While Mr. Potter's scholarly abilities are indeed somewhat lacking, I don't think that he is actually in danger of failing any of his classes. Besides, I doubt that any of the teachers would want to fail the hero of the war." Snape glared at Lupin. "Isn't it rather un-Gryffindorish of you to wish for your best friend's son to repeat another year?"

Lupin grinned slyly at him. "I don't really want Harry to fail, of course, but I think I've been corrupted by your Slytherins."

"He is an honorary member of our House now," Theodore agreed.

Snape just gave his lover a sour look and muttered, "Perhaps it was a mistake to bring him into the dungeon, after all."

After dessert, Snape opened his presents. Selima gave Snape a new robe (black, of course) and the completed translation of the Arabic Potions text that Ali had given him for Christmas. "Thank you, Mother," Snape said, sounding genuinely grateful for the second gift, if not the first. Dylan and Theo gave Snape a book on healing potions; not an old, rare book, but one that had just been published a few months ago.

"Mr. Jigger recommended it," Dylan said.

"Yes, it's already generated a great deal of debate in the academic world," Snape said distractedly as he flipped through the book. "The author deviates greatly from the traditional method of potion-brewing; she even borrows some ideas from Muggle medicines. It's quite controversial." He looked up and smiled at the boys. "Perhaps we can experiment with some of these potions later, and see how effective they really are."

Dylan and Theo smiled back at him happily, saying, "Yes, Professor," and "Yes, Father."

Lupin handed Snape a small package and said, "I hope you like this, Severus."

Snape tore off the wrapping, revealing a framed photograph--it was a copy of the "family photo" that Lupin had asked Colin Creevey to take. His own image scowled at him while his lover and sons smiled at him from inside the photo, Lupin and Dylan silently mouthing the word "Cheese!" His expression softened for a moment and he almost smiled. Then he cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Exactly the sort of sentimental thing that I'd expect from a Gryffindor, but thank you, anyway, Lupin."

Lupin knew what he really meant, of course. He kissed Snape on the cheek and said, "You're welcome, Sev."

"Lupin!" Snape howled in protest, but strangely enough, Selima paid them no heed. She was staring at the photo with a thoughtful look on her face.

"You know, Severus," she said, "now that Theodore is your heir, perhaps we should take a formal family picture. The last one we have was taken while you were still in school, after all." She sighed. "And I suppose you'll want the werewolf in the picture, too. We can take one official photo with just you and Theodore and myself, and another with Professor Lupin and Dylan. I'll make an appointment at the studio. I suppose it shall have to be on a weekend, or perhaps I could schedule it for the Easter break..."

"This is all your fault, Lupin!" Snape accused as the werewolf burst out laughing.

*** 

Draco's bad mood continued, and he knew that he was rapidly alienating his friends and housemates by constantly snapping at them, but he didn't really care. He even took a kind of perverse pleasure in thoroughly wallowing in his misery.

He hated having to see Diggory three times a week in Physical Combat and Interspecies Relations, but he did enjoy taking out his frustrations on his sparring partners in class. One day he was sparring with Weasley and recklessly charged forward, swinging his wooden practice sword with such strength that he not only knocked Weasley's sword out of his hand, but actually knocked the other boy to the ground. Even then, Draco did not stop, his mind clouded in a red haze of anger and adrenaline, and kept swinging his sword, only dimly aware of Weasley's cries of pain and the dull "thwack" of wood hitting flesh. 

A commotion erupted around Draco, who remained oblivious, still focused on attacking his opponent: a few of the girls screamed, and a few of the Gryffindor boys cried out angrily. Potter yelled, "What the hell are you doing?!" and Theodore shouted, "Draco, stop!" To Draco it was nothing more than background noise, like the annoying drone of a fly buzzing around the room. He struck again and again and again, and in his mind, it was not Weasley's face he saw, but his father's, and the werewolf's...

Someone tried to grab his arm, and Draco struck out angrily without even looking, and there was the sound of someone falling to the floor and Potter yelping in pain. Then strong arms grabbed him from behind, and someone shouted, "Enough! I said that's enough, Malfoy!" Draco struggled, but could not break free, and the person who had grabbed him twisted his wrist sharply until he cried out in pain and dropped his sword.

"ENOUGH!" shouted Master Diggory, and suddenly Draco came to his senses. The entire class, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, were staring at him in fear and shock. Even Dietrich, who usually sneered and laughed at his housemates when they fought with each other or the Gryffindors, looked pale and frightened.

"Malfoy, what came over you?!" Diggory demanded.

"Nothing," snarled Draco, struggling in the werewolf's grip. "And I don't have to answer to a werewolf!"

"Well, I'm your teacher, and you'll answer to me, or you'll answer to your Head of House!" Diggory said.

"Go ahead and tell Snape, I don't care!" Draco screamed almost hysterically.

Potter and Longbottom were helping Weasley to his feet as he groaned in pain; there was blood running out of his nose. "Potter, Longbottom, take Weasley to the hospital wing," Diggory said curtly. "The rest of you are dismissed." When the students lingered, shuffling their feet and whispering to each other, Diggory growled, "Now!" and they all fled.

"Let me go!" Draco shouted, continuing to struggle although he knew it was futile.

"Draco, what's wrong?" Diggory asked, and suddenly Draco noticed that he sounded more concerned than angry. The werewolf tightened his hold on Draco, pinning the boy securely against his chest, and it almost felt like an embrace. For one crazy moment, Draco wanted to break down and weep in the werewolf's arms.

"I've seen you angry, but I've never seen you lose control like that before, Draco," Diggory continued, looking a little pale. "You could have killed Weasley, you know. You were almost like a berserker. It reminded me of the way that my wolves and I would lose control during the full moon when we didn't have the Wolfsbane Potion..."

That brief moment of insanity passed, and Draco was filled with fury again. "Don't you dare compare me to you, you...you...monster!"

A hint of comprehension dawned in Diggory's yellow-green eyes. "It's not Weasley that you were mad at," he said slowly. "It's me. Weasley was just a convenient target. What have I done to you, Draco, to make you so angry with me?"

"Don't play dumb with me, werewolf!" Draco snarled. "You know exactly what you did!"

He saw a flicker of fear, and then guilt in those wolfish eyes. "I...I don't know what you're talking about," Diggory stammered.

"I saw you!" Draco screamed. "I saw you by the lake on Valentine's Day!"

Diggory's face turned white and he abruptly released his hold on Draco, his arms falling limply to his sides. "Draco...I..."

"I saw you," Draco hissed, and the werewolf, who had never seemed to fear anyone or anything, took a step back. "How dare you put your filthy hands on my mother!" Draco took a step forward, and Diggory took another step back, looking almost afraid of Draco. That feeling of power, of being feared, was heady and intoxicating; it had been so long since he had last felt it. At the same time, the thought of the fierce werewolf leader being afraid of him was almost funny, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood in order to repress a surge of hysterical laughter.

"Draco," Diggory said, continuing to back away from him, "it's not what you think..."

"Oh?" Draco said sarcastically. "Then you aren't shagging my mother?" The werewolf flushed and fell silent. 

"We never intended for this to happen," he finally said.

"You didn't intend?" Draco cried, and grabbed Diggory by the front of his robes and slammed him up against the wall. At this point, he didn't care if the werewolf killed him or not, but Diggory made no move to resist, not even when his back hit the wall with bruising force. "Do you have any idea what would happen to my mother if it became public knowledge that she's sleeping with a werewolf? She would be humiliated and ostracized! It's bad enough being a Death Eater's wife, but the purebloods can forgive ambition! With enough time and money, eventually things will smooth over, but this? She'd never be admitted back into pureblood society again, they would all spit on her! Her life would be ruined, and it would be all your fault! How dare you treat my mother like she's a common trollop!"

"It's not like that!" Diggory protested.

"Oh, is it true love, then?" Draco sneered. "Are you going to marry her?" Diggory looked away and said nothing, and Draco said contemptuously, "I didn't think so. Not that you'd be a fit husband, even if you did win your lawsuit. Even if the court names you 'Lord Diggory,' you'll never be anything but a beast!" Draco's fists were still clenched in Diggory's robes, and he gave the taller, heavier man a rough shake. Diggory's body remained as limp and unresisting as a rag doll, which made Draco even angrier. He almost wished Diggory would fight back, even though he knew it would be suicide to take on a werewolf single-handedly.

"I'll break it off with Narcissa," Diggory said in a dull voice. His eyes looked flat and expressionless, almost glazed. 

"Good," Draco said curtly, giving the werewolf one more shake for good measure, then he released his teacher and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Diggory cried. He suddenly seemed to come to life again, his eyes and voice filled with some intense emotion that Draco did not recognize. "I'll break it off with Narcissa, but you must do something for me in return!"

"What?!" Draco shouted indignantly. "You are in no position to bargain, werewolf!" But Draco suddenly realized that the opposite was true. Diggory could ruin Narcissa and the Malfoy family with a single word, while Diggory, as a werewolf, did not have a reputation worth ruining. "What do you want?" Draco snapped, glaring at his teacher hatefully.

"Don't tell Narcissa," Diggory said softly.

"What?" Draco asked in confusion. He hadn't known what Diggory was going to ask for--money, perhaps, or simply for Draco not to tell the Headmaster that a teacher was sleeping with the mother of one of his students--but he had not expected this.

*** 

Lukas went numb with shock and grief when Draco revealed that he knew about Lukas's affair with his mother. _It's over, it's over, it's over!_ the wolf wailed inside his head as Draco continued to rant. Perhaps later, when the shock wore off, Lukas would stop to wonder why he should feel grief that his ill-fated affair--which was based only on sex, after all, and was never meant to be anything more than temporary--was coming to end.

Lukas made no attempt to defend himself as Draco slammed him against the wall. Nor did he respond to Draco's verbal insults, because the wolf could hear the pain beneath the anger in the boy's words. He knew that while Draco's pureblood snobbery might have taken offense at the idea of his mother consorting with a werewolf, that was not the real problem here. The real problem was that Lukas had come between Draco and his mother, and between Draco and the memory of his father. The wolf understood the deep bond that bound a pack together, and he had disrupted Draco's pack.

He and Narcissa had been careless and thoughtless, thinking only of their own pleasure. They had never really stopped to consider how it would affect Draco if he found out about their affair. Oh certainly, Narcissa was adamant that Draco should not know, but they had taken it for granted that they could keep it a secret. Which was stupid--people had already been gossiping about his weekly visits to the Leaky Cauldron, and then they had gone frolicking on the shores of the lake right outside Hogsmeade, for Merlin's sake! Deep down, they had both known that they were taking a risk, which had only made the sex more exciting.

Their recklessness had deeply wounded Draco, and Lukas felt ashamed of himself. "I'll break it off with Narcissa," he said in a hollow voice. The days ahead seemed to stretch before him in an endless line, all bleak and empty without his mate in them, and he no longer cared about the outcome of the trial. Wait a minute...his mate? When had the wolf recognized Narcissa as its mate? Perhaps as far back as their encounter in the rose bushes on the night of the Yule Ball...

"Good," Draco said curtly, and suddenly Lukas realized that there was more at stake here than his feelings, or even Draco's. Narcissa might survive being disgraced in the eyes of the purebloods, but he knew that it would truly destroy her if she lost her son.

"Wait!" Lukas cried as Draco started to turn away. "I'll break it off with Narcissa, but you must do something for me in return!"

"What?!" Draco shouted indignantly. "You are in no position to bargain, werewolf!" Then he frowned and seemed to think better of that statement, although he gazed at Lukas with pure hatred in his eyes. "What do you want?" 

"Don't tell Narcissa," Lukas said softly.

"What?" Draco asked, sounding bewildered.

"Don't tell your mother that you know about us," Lukas said. "She loves you, Draco; she never meant to hurt you. We acted impulsively and foolishly, but neither of us ever meant to hurt you."

"Hah!" Draco snorted.

"It's not your mother's fault," Lukas said urgently, thinking quickly. "It's mine. Narcissa was lonely and vulnerable, and I...I took advantage of her." 

Draco gave him a look of contempt, but it didn't matter to Lukas what Draco thought of him. All that mattered was that he somehow keep Draco from hating his mother. Lukas had thought of Narcissa as a shallow, spoiled, pureblood woman, but she had been fierce as a wolf in defense of her cub. She had been trained, like most pureblood women, to be subservient to her husband, but she had tossed aside her pureblood values, not to mention risked her life, when she had killed Lucius and turned against the Death Eaters. He had thought that the most important thing in her life was her social standing, but that was not true. The most important thing in her life was Draco. She might fear losing her status among the pureblood nobility, but Lukas knew that she would sacrifice it in an instant if necessary, in order to save her son.

She was indeed a fit mate for a wolf, and Lukas mourned the fact that he had only recognized this now, when it was too late. But pack came first before anything, and Draco was Narcissa's pack. He couldn't let her family be torn apart because of him. And he wanted to spare her the pain of facing her son's anger and contempt. If Lukas could persuade Draco that he alone was to blame, the boy might be able to forgive his mother, and their relationship would return to normal. 

"Please, Draco," begged Lukas, who had never begged for anything in his life, not even when he had been cold and hungry and frightened as a runaway boy alone on the streets of London, having just fled the Gravenor estate. "I swear I will never see Narcissa again, so please don't tell her." Draco hesitated, and Lukas continued, as persuasively as he could, "She doesn't have to know. Even if you're angry at her right now, you know that she loves you. It would only shame her if she knew that you knew about how I took advantage of her weakness."

Draco was silent, but his emotional struggle was visible on his face. He was angry with his mother, but he loved her, and he obviously didn't want to lose the only parent he had left. "I'm not angry with her," he finally said. "I'm angry with you." Hatred blazed in his pale gray eyes. "It's all your fault."

"Yes," Lukas whispered. Draco had decided to transfer all his resentment to Lukas, and the werewolf felt a pang of mingled relief and sorrow.

"I won't say anything, as you long as you never go near her again," Draco said.

"Agreed," Lukas said wearily, his heart heavy. As the boy turned to leave, he called out, "And Draco?"

"What?" Draco snapped.

"I can't cover up this incident," Lukas said. "Your attacking Weasley, I mean. Too many of the students saw it. But I'll leave your punishment up to your Head of House, and it's up to you to decide what to tell Snape. I won't report anything other than what I saw."

"Fine," Draco said curtly.

As Draco was about to leave, a fifth-year Gryffindor prefect ran into the classroom. "You're to report to the Headmaster's office at once, Malfoy, on McGonagall's orders," the boy said with a vindictive smirk on his face.

"Fine," Draco repeated, and the Gryffindor prefect looked disappointed that he hadn't gotten more of a reaction out of him.

"And the Headmaster wants to see you too, Master Diggory," the prefect added, in a slightly more respectful tone.

"Very well," Lukas said. "You may return to class now, Mr. Fletcher."

Fletcher left, looking a bit sullen, and Draco and Lukas headed to the Headmaster's office together in stony silence. 

Waiting for them in the office were Dumbledore, looking grave; McGonagall, looking stern; Lupin, looking worried; and Snape, looking very irate.

"Mr. Weasley has a mild concussion and three broken ribs," Dumbledore informed them in a quiet voice. "Madam Pomfrey is tending to him, and says he will be fine--eventually. He will need a few days to heal completely. It's very fortunate that his injuries were not more serious."  "You could easily have killed him, Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall said indignantly. "What on earth were you thinking?!" She turned away to glare at Lukas for a moment. "What sorts of things are you teaching them in that class, anyway? You're supposed to be teaching the students to defend themselves, not kill each other!"

Lupin leapt to his friend's defense and spared Lukas from having to reply. "No one has ever been seriously hurt in Physical Defense class before," Lupin said. "This would appear to be an isolated incident." He turned to Draco, his blue eyes filled with worry and concern. "What happened, Draco? Did you get into a fight with Ron?"

"Nothing happened," Draco said sullenly. "I was just doing what I was supposed to be doing in class--attacking my opponent. It's not my fault if Weasley can't defend himself properly."

"This was not a simple sparring match," Lupin said in an even voice before an angry McGonagall could say anything. "The other students say that you kept hitting Ron even after he was disarmed and lying helpless on the ground. And that you hit Harry when he tried to stop you."

"Well, of course everyone's going to believe Potter and his buddies over me," Draco sneered.

"Are you disputing their version of events?" Snape asked coldly; Draco just shrugged.

"The other Slytherins reported the same thing that the Gryffindors did!" McGonagall snapped.

"Figures," Draco muttered bitterly. "Traitors."

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said in a dangerous voice that put Lukas's inner wolf on alert, although Draco just stared at him defiantly, "you do not seem to comprehend just how much trouble you are in right now. Do you understand that you could be expelled for assaulting another student? Or that you could have been sent to Azkaban if you had maimed or killed him?" Draco shrugged again, which seemed to infuriate the Potions Master, and he snarled at Draco in an even sharper voice, "Do you understand the harm you are doing, not just to your own reputation, but to your housemates who are also the children of Death Eaters? Everyone will point their fingers at you and say, 'I knew he was just like his father! I knew he was a Death Eater after all!' And at a time such as this, when tensions are running high and there is unrest between the Houses! Do you understand that you could be provoking more vigilante attacks against your fellow Slytherins?"

"I don't care," Draco said sullenly. "Let them take care of themselves."

"I will not tolerate insolence from any student, not even my Slytherins!" Snape shouted, and Lupin placed a hand on his arm and whispered into his ear, obviously trying to calm him down.

"Draco," Lupin said in a soft but urgent voice, "this whole thing isn't like you at all. Won't you please tell us what's wrong?"

"I don't know what you mean, not like me," Draco retorted in a surly voice. "I'm always fighting with Potter and Weasley. I just got a bit carried away this time, is all."

Lupin shook his head. "You haven't been fighting with them recently, other than the token insults you throw each other's way just so that no one will think you're getting too chummy with each other."

Draco glared at Lupin. "Think whatever you like, Professor; I don't care."

"You will not speak to a teacher in that tone of voice, young man!" McGonagall snapped. "Perhaps some detention will change your attitude!" She shot a brief glare at Snape. "And something more than just writing lines this time, or I'll choose the detention myself!"

Snape glared right back at her. "The Slytherin students are under _my_ authority," he growled, "just as the Gryffindors are under yours. How many times have you stopped me from giving Mr. Potter the punishment he deserved?"

"Severus," Lupin said, a hint of warning in his voice. 

"But I will concede that one of my students assaulting the Minister of Magic's son might reflect poorly on my House," Snape continued grudgingly. "So Mr. Malfoy will be banned from all extracurricular activities, including Quidditch, for two weeks. Since your actions landed Weasley in the hospital wing, you can use the extra time on your hands to assist Madam Pomfrey afterschool with whatever needs doing, including scrubbing bedpans. If she runs out of work for you, I have some barrels of horned toads that need disemboweling and slugs that need stewing. And--" Snape smiled maliciously. "--since Slytherins hate having to apologize above all else, you shall write formal letters of apology to Mr. Weasley and his family."

"I will not!" Draco cried.

"You will," Snape said in an implacable voice, his black eyes hard and cold, "or you will be expelled, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's pale eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment it seemed like he would defy Snape and risk expulsion. Then the fury dimmed back down to sullenness, and he said, "Yes...sir," the "sir" laced with obvious sarcasm and insolence. 

Snape glared at the boy, looking genuinely angry, but also a little puzzled by Draco's unusual behavior. Then he turned to McGonagall and asked curtly, "Does that meet with your approval, Professor?"

"It is a fair punishment," McGonagall agreed, a little reluctantly. "Along with fifty points being taken from Slytherin." Snape looked livid, but did not object, and Lupin moved a little closer to him, as if trying to soothe his lover with his mere presence.

"Get back to class, Malfoy," Snape growled, "and don't forget to report for detention this afternoon."

Draco stalked out of the room, and the teachers exchanged worried glances. "Mr. Malfoy is short-tempered and sometimes acts without thinking, but this seems out of character for him," McGonagall said.

"Draco has been very moody lately," Lupin said. "Everyone assumed it was because he quarreled with Serafina on Valentine's Day, but this seems to be something more serious than a lover's spat."

"What exactly happened, Diggory?" Snape demanded. "Do you have any idea what set him off?"

Lukas shrugged. "He was sparring with Weasley and just went berserk," he said, carefully avoiding an outright lie. "He kept hitting Weasley after he was down; I'm not sure he was even aware of what he was doing. The Gryffindors and Slytherins sometimes take a little too much pleasure in attacking one another, but I've never seen Malfoy lose control like that before. Usually they're content with scoring a few bruises on each other."

"I just don't understand," Lupin said fretfully. "Do you know what's troubling him so much, Lukas?"

"How would I know?" Lukas asked in a tone of indifference. "Aren't you the one that all the Slytherins are close to?" Thanks to years of practice, Lukas was a much better liar than Lupin, but the other werewolf still gave him a slightly suspicious look. Lukas met his gaze squarely, as if he had nothing to hide; to look away would be a dead giveaway that he was lying. "I thought that you had won their hearts. They all adore you, even gave you that Slytherin robe for Christmas."

"I have tried to talk to Draco, but he's been avoiding me," Lupin said, looking confused and a little hurt. "He's felt comfortable coming to me in the past; I wonder what's changed..."

"A lot has changed, Remus," Lukas pointed out, relieved that Lupin's attention seemed to have shifted away from him for the moment. "His family is no longer top dog in the wizarding world, so to speak. Perhaps it's no surprise that he's a little angry and resentful."

"More than a little," McGonagall said.

"And Weasley's father is now the Minister of Magic," Snape said thoughtfully. "The Weasleys' fortunes are rising, while the Malfoys' are declining. It would be natural for him to hate Weasley and perhaps pick a fight with him."

"Perhaps," Lupin said doubtfully, "but it doesn't feel right, somehow."

"Do you have any other insights you wish to share with us, Lukas?" Dumbledore asked. The old man's kindly gaze seemed uncomfortably penetrating, and Lukas tried not to squirm like a guilty student.

"No, sir," he replied. "May I get back to class now?"

The Headmaster nodded, and Lukas turned to leave.

*** 

Lupin noticed that Lukas looked very weary and troubled, perhaps more so than was warranted by the situation, since he was not very close to Draco, as far as Lupin knew. Although he sometimes treated them with an air of gruff, casual affection, Lukas did not seem to be close to any of the students except perhaps his cousin Tristan and, oddly enough, Aric, whom he seemed to have a soft spot for, although he often referred to the boy as a "spoiled pureblood brat".

"Lukas?" Lupin called out as the other werewolf turned to leave. "Is everything all right?"

"Other than students trying to beat each other to death in my class, you mean?" Lukas asked sarcastically.

"It's just that you don't look well," Lupin said. In fact, Lukas looked weary, listless, and depressed, almost as if he had just endured a transformation with no Wolfsbane Potion--which made no sense. The full moon was more than a week away, and in any case, the improved Wolfsbane Potion, along with Lukas's own acceptance of his inner wolf, allowed him to experience the transformation with no side effects other than a little fatigue. 

"Yes, you're looking a little peaked, my boy," Dumbledore said, sounding concerned. "Perhaps you should have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you."

"That's not necessary," Lukas said curtly. "I'm just tired, that's all. The trial has dragged out for nearly two months, with no end in sight."

"Oh, of course," Lupin said sympathetically. "Still, I heard that it was going well for you. At least, that's what Rita Skeeter has been reporting in the Daily Prophet."

"Not exactly the world's most reliable source," muttered Snape.

"Actually, her articles have been very accurate, if still somewhat melodramatic, ever since...er...she and Hermione seemed to have reached some sort of agreement," Lupin said.

"Yes, but this feud with my uncle is still very draining, and it's hard on Tristan and Gwen, too," Lukas replied.

"Of course," Lupin said. "I know it must be difficult for you. If there's anything I can do, even if it's just to lend a sympathetic ear--"

"I'll let you know," Lukas finished, giving Lupin a wan smile, and left the room.

"I know that the trial must be tiring and frustrating," Lupin told Snape, "but still, Lukas has been in a pretty good mood up until now. He seemed very satisfied about how he and Morrigan were able to outwit Amos and his lawyer when they threatened to expose Lukas's previous illegal activities."

"The werewolf is old enough to take care of himself," Snape said irritably, "and right now I have my hands full dealing with Mr. Malfoy."

"True," Lupin sighed. "What on earth do you suppose is wrong with Draco, Severus?"

"I don't know," Snape replied. "It might be what Diggory suggested, nothing more than a little disenchantment with his place in the social pecking order."

"I'm sure that the two of you will help Draco work through whatever is troubling him," Dumbledore said with a confident smile.

Snape didn't look nearly so confident, but he nodded curtly at the Headmaster and headed back to the dungeon. Lupin followed, saying, "We really need to sit down and have a talk with Draco."

"Yes, but not right now," Snape said. "Give him--and me--a little time to cool off first. I don't expect my Slytherins to stay out of trouble, but I do expect them not to be caught at it." Lupin chuckled softly, and Snape smiled a little at him, then growled, "I hate losing points, and I hate it when my students make me lose face in front of the other teachers. Especially McGonagall, who speaks to me as if she's dressing down a student!"

Lupin laughed. "A disadvantage of having once been her student, I suppose! So many of our colleagues were once our teachers that I guess it's not surprising that sometimes they still think of us as children. Just be glad that you were facing McGonagall instead of Branwen!"

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Snape said with a shudder. "In any case, I think we should let Mr. Malfoy toil at his detention for a few days before confronting him; perhaps that will humble him a little."

"When have you ever known Draco to be humbled by anything?" Lupin asked dryly.

Snape paused to consider. "Well, there was the time that Moody turned him into a ferret..." 

"Transfiguring the students is against the rules, Severus," Lupin cautioned as he saw a certain speculative gleam in his lover's dark eyes.

"A pity," Snape sighed. "Well then, if not to humble Mr. Malfoy, we shall a let few days pass so that I am calm enough to look at him without being tempted to turn him into a toad."

Lupin was still very worried, but he smiled and nodded in agreement. Severus knew the Slytherins best, after all. But Lupin resolved that when the few days were up, he was going to have a talk with Draco whether tempers had cooled or not, even if it meant that he had to tie Draco to his chair in order to keep him from storming out of the room.

*** 

Draco sullenly reported for his detention as ordered, and found that while there were no bedpans to scrub, a number of students had come down with a nasty case of the flu, and their symptoms included severe nausea. Cleaning out basins of vomit turned out to be just as odious as scrubbing bedpans, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in making him do it.

Weasley was lying in one of the beds, with several get-well cards and boxes of candy stacked on the nightstand next to him. For an alleged assault victim, he looked surprisingly happy, probably because Daphne Greengrass was sitting by his side fussing over him profusely. Merlin's Beard, he only had a few cracked ribs; it wasn't as if Weasley was dying! When Draco came by to fetch another dirty basin, Greengrass--timid, mousy Greengrass!--actually looked up and glared at him. Draco supposed it was just another sign of how far he had fallen, that Greengrass, who was scared of her own shadow, should feel confident enough to glare at a Malfoy.

Several Gryffindors stopped by to visit Weasley, and most of them glared at Ron. Dean Thomas said in a belligerent voice, "What are you doing here, Malfoy? Come to have another shot at Ron?"

"Keep your voice down in the hospital wing, Mr. Thomas," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "And Mr. Malfoy is my concern, not yours." Draco smirked at Thomas, and Pomfrey snapped, "Get back to work, Mr. Malfoy!"

Potter, Granger, and Weasley's sister also came by to visit Weasley. Ginny Weasley and Potter did not confront Draco, although they gave him hostile looks, but they also looked a little confused, while Granger simply looked confused.

Eventually all the visitors left as the dinner hour drew near, and Pomfrey dismissed Draco as well. He was on his way out when Weasley called, "Hey, Malfoy!"

"What?" Draco asked, none too graciously.

"Have I done something to piss you off?" Weasley asked, looking more puzzled and curious than angry.

"Nothing more than usual, Weasley," Draco replied curtly.

"Then why'd you try to beat me to a pulp?" Weasley asked bluntly.

Draco hesitated, but he couldn't think of a good answer, and he certainly wasn't about to tell Weasley the truth. "It was nothing personal, Weasley," he finally said in a gruff voice. "I was in a bad mood, and I guess I took it out on you." He paused, then added grudgingly, "Sorry." 

He wasn't sure what drew even that much of an apology out of him, because Snape was right--Draco hated having to apologize to anyone. Maybe it was because Weasley's face looked open--and strangely enough, almost friendly--rather than accusing, as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer to his question. Funny, he should hate Weasley, a former enemy who had gone from being a nobody to being the son of the Minister of Magic; it was almost as if he had switched places with Draco. Yet somehow Draco did not resent the Gryffindor boy nearly as much as he did Theo and Dylan.

Weasley looked surprised at hearing even a curt and not very polite apology from Draco. "Well, next time, take it out on a real punching bag, okay?" Weasley said in a mild voice.

"Huh?" was Draco's puzzled response.

"Boxing," Weasley tried to explain. "It's a Muggle sport where--oh, never mind. But the next time you feel like hitting something, try to use an inanimate object instead of a person."

"Okay," Draco said, then frowned at Weasley. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

Weasley grinned sheepishly. "Well, I might've been, but it was kind of nice having Daphne fuss over me like that. So in a way, you sort of did me a favor!"

Draco shook his head in bemusement. "Weasley, I think I might have scrambled your brains when I hit you."

Weasley just grinned at him cheerfully and said, "Although maybe next time you could avoid breaking any bones. Maybe just give me some nasty-looking bruises." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "Hmm...maybe Fred and George could come up with a candy or pill that gives you really spectacular bruises--the kind that turn all red and purple--but that don't actually hurt. They could add it to the Skiving Snackbox..."

Draco couldn't help but laugh, his anger and resentment abating slightly. Not like a weight being lifted from his chest, but more like the pressure easing enough for him to breathe a little easier. "Well...see you later, Weasley."

"See you, Malfoy," Weasley said. "And if you see Daphne, remind her to save me some dessert at dinner."

Draco did not say anything to Greengrass at dinner because she was still giving him angry looks, but he did notice that she slipped a few cupcakes from the table into a napkin on her lap and tied it up into a neat bundle. Damien and Dylan tried to ask him why he had attacked Weasley, and he told them to mind their own business. Theodore didn't bother to ask Draco about the attack, just giving him a sidelong glance of disdain that seemed to say, "I'm not going to talk to you while you're acting like a prat." Draco ignored him, ignored all of his housemates, who seemed more than willing to ignore him in return. 

After dinner, Greengrass headed off in the direction of the hospital wing, presumably to deliver dessert to Weasley. Draco went back to the dorm and retreated into his room. It had always made him feel special before, to have a room all to himself, but now it made him feel lonely. Which was stupid, because with the way things were going now, even if he'd had a roommate, they would probably be fighting with each other. Draco sighed and decided to get the most unpleasant part of his punishment over with, and took some parchment and ink out of his desk and began to write his letters of apology. It was still humiliating, but not quite as bad as he had thought it would be; somehow his conversation with Weasley had taken a little of the sting out of it.

*** 

His fellow Gryffindors were filled with outrage about the unprovoked attack, but Ron was actually enjoying himself immensely. He hadn't enjoyed getting beaten up, of course, but he didn't mind missing classes for a few days, and most of all, he secretly liked being the center of attention for a change. Most of the time, people barely noticed him, and if they did, they simply thought of him as "one of the Weasley boys" or "Harry Potter's friend".

But now they did notice him, and he received a steady stream of visitors, including most of his housemates, a few classmates from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and even some of the teachers stopped by to see him. McGonagall visited him briefly to see how he was doing; the Headmaster chatted with him genially about Quidditch for a few minutes, avoiding any mention of the attack, and gave him some lemon drops; Satoshi came by and did a few magic tricks to entertain him; and Lupin brought him a book to read while he was bedridden, some sort of adventure/romance novel that had a picture of a dashing young man with a sword and a woman clad in a very low-cut gown on the cover--not really the sort of thing Ron would expect a gay man to read, but then again, what did Ron know about gay men, anyway? Even Master Diggory stopped by and said in a gruff voice, "Glad you're feeling better, Weasley."

Of course his best friends came to visit him: Harry brought Ron a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, while Hermione, of course, brought him homework from the classes he had missed. "You don't want to fall behind, especially with the N.E.W.T.s coming up," she said sternly. Even though Ron wasn't really looking forward to doing homework, it was so typical of Hermione that he just had to laugh.

He received many get-well cards and gifts from his friends: comic books, Zonko's magic tricks, and boxes of candy. Allegra gave him a handmade card and offered to loan him her toy wolf cub to keep him company while he was in the hospital wing. The cub, which she had received for Christmas, was her prized possession, so Ron swallowed his laughter and solemnly thanked her.

"That's very nice of you, Allegra, but won't you miss him?"

"Yes, but I have Portia and Emma and Chloe to keep me company in my room," Allegra replied. "I thought you might be lonely sleeping all by yourself in the hospital wing."

The older students, particularly the Slytherin boys, would probably laugh their heads off if they caught him sleeping with a stuffed animal. But Allegra looked so sincere and earnest that Ron didn't want to hurt her feelings by turning down her offer. "Thank you, Allegra," he said, accepting the toy. "What's his name?"

"Romulus," Allegra replied, handing over the plush brown wolf cub, which barked happily and licked Ron's face. "Rommie for short. I sort of named him after Professor Lupin--Remus and Romulus were twin brothers raised by a she-wolf in Roman mythology." Allegra frowned. "You know, if Professor Lupin's parents were trying to hide the fact that he was a werewolf, maybe they should have given him a different name. I mean, the names 'Remus' and 'Lupin' are kind of a dead giveaway, aren't they?"

Ron laughed. "Well, they didn't know when he was born that he would be a werewolf."

"Yes, but the Professor said that lycanthropy runs in his family," Allegra said. "It's almost asking for trouble, giving him a name like that. Though I guess that everything turned out all right in the end."

"I never thought of it that way before," Ron admitted. "Maybe it's an old family name."

"Maybe," Allegra said thoughtfully. "That would make sense, since the Professor said he was descended from a clan of shapeshifters." Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Maybe one of his ancestors was the real Remus or Romulus! I'm going to go ask him!" And she immediately ran out of the room as Ron chuckled and stroked Rommie, who wagged his tail.

Any embarrassment he felt was more than made up for by Daphne. She thought it was "very sweet" that he was being so kind to Allegra. And he loved the way she fussed over him--exclaiming in dismay over his bruises and bandages; gently laying her soft, cool hand against his cheek in a gesture of concern and affection; arranging his blankets and pillows to make him more comfortable; jumping up to fetch him a glass of water when he was thirsty. 

"He's not an invalid, you know," Hermione finally pointed out.

"Oh, I don't mind," Daphne said earnestly. "I'm happy to do anything I can to make Ron feel better." 

Hermione rolled her eyes behind Daphne's back, and Ron grinned. "I guess Rosier can't expect any pampering from you if he gets hurt or sick."

"Certainly not," Hermione sniffed. "I mean, of course I'll help him if he needs it, but if he wants someone to wait on him hand and foot, he can hire a maid."

"Ron didn't ask me to help him," Daphne protested. "I want to do it. And besides, he's got broken ribs!" She shot a glare across the room at Malfoy, who was holding a basin while a flu-stricken student threw up the remains of his lunch into it. Malfoy ignored Daphne, staring at the basin distastefully.

Daphne, who had always been afraid of Malfoy, now seemed willing to take him on for Ron's sake, and that absolutely delighted him--that he was important enough to Daphne for her to conquer her fear of the Death Eaters. Of course, she had been gradually growing more self-confident over the past few months, but that too was due in part to Ron, because she had been able to confess her fears and talk about her family to him. Never before had anyone relied on him that way. Never before had anyone looked up to him that way.

So all in all, Ron felt quite content, almost smug, as lay in his hospital bed. Which was why he didn't really feel mad at Malfoy for putting him there. He was bewildered, though, as to why Malfoy had attacked him. They had been on civil terms lately, and even in the old days, Malfoy had been more likely to use a hex than a physical attack. And strangely enough, although Malfoy seemed angry, it didn't seem to be Ron that he was angry at. Since Malfoy was serving detention in the hospital wing, Ron took the opportunity to ask him why he'd done it, but all he got was a vague response about being in a bad mood, and amazingly, an apology. A very curt and gruff one, to be sure, but still--an apology! It was actually much more sincere than the written apology Draco sent him, despite its polite and flowery words.

"'Allow me to express my deepest sympathies and regrets for the injuries you received while sparring in Physical Defense class,'" Harry read. "He makes it sound like it was an accident instead of him beating on you while you were helpless! And then he goes on to say, 'When you are recovered, I will be happy to help you improve your defensive techniques in swordfighting'--what a prat!"

Ron just laughed, "Typical Malfoy!"

Harry stared at him, bewildered. "Aren't you mad at Malfoy?"

"Oh, it's no big deal, Harry," Ron said casually. "I'll be fine in a couple of days, and in the meantime I get to skip class and have Daphne fuss over me. And look at all the presents people have given me!" He motioned to the boxes of candy on the nightstand next to him, then picked up one and offered it to Harry. "Want a Chocolate Frog? Or how about a Canary Cream? Fred and George set me a box as a get-well present. They also offered to beat up Malfoy for me, but I told them that wasn't necessary. I did suggest that they add some sort of candy to the Skiving Snackbox that gives you really spectacular bruises but no pain, and they thought that was a great idea."

Looking bemused, Harry accepted and ate a Chocolate Frog as Hermione and Dylan walked into the room. Dylan handed Ron a box of Honeydukes fudge and said awkwardly, "Er...sorry about what happened."

"No problem," Ron said cheerfully, adding the box to the stack on the nightstand. "It wasn't your fault."

Hermione smiled and Dylan looked confused. "Well, I'm glad you don't hold it against the whole House, then. Actually, I don't think that Draco really has it in for you, either. He's been acting very strange lately, snapping at everyone in Slytherin. It seems like there's something bothering him, but he won't tell anyone what it is..." Dylan sounded more concerned than angry.

"Don't worry, Rosier," Ron assured him. "I'm not really mad at Malfoy. And anyway, you don't have to apologize for him."

"That's right," a cold voice said. "It's not your place to apologize for me."

The others turned to see Draco standing behind them. "Draco!" Dylan exclaimed, looking flustered for one of the first times that Ron could remember. "I'm not...that is...I was just..."

"Bugger off, Rosier," Draco said curtly. "I don't need anyone to apologize for me."

Dylan began to look angry. "I was just trying to help you, Malfoy. I was trying to be a friend to you, but you're too bloody dense to see it. Keep it up, and pretty soon you won't have any friends left."

"So who cares?" Draco shouted as Dylan turned and stalked out of the hospital wing. "I don't need your help, and I don't need any friends!"

"Mr. Malfoy, keep your voice down!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. "Now come over here and get to work; I have some basins for you to clean, and after that, some dirty linens that need changing."

Draco sullenly went over to help Madam Pomfrey, while Hermione looked torn between going after Dylan and staying with Ron. "Go on after him, Hermione," Ron told her. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll be fine," Ron replied. "It's no big deal. Harry can play a game of cards with me."

Hermione smiled at him approvingly. "Thanks, Ron. You know, you've really matured a lot this past year; I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said with good-natured sarcasm, but he felt pleased.

"Oh, and I brought by your homework assignments from today's classes," Hermione added. She put the list of assignments on top of the candy boxes on the nightstand, bent down to kiss his cheek, then hurried out of the room.

"She really does act like my Mum," Ron laughed. "So how about that game of cards, Harry?"

They played cards for awhile, and a few more visitors stopped by, including Daphne. Ron's mother sent a letter in which she fretted over him and said that she had wanted to have "that awful boy" expelled, but the Headmaster had assured them that everything was under control and that nothing like this would ever happen again, and Arthur had said that he trusted Dumbledore. Professor Lupin had also appealed to their sense of compassion, telling them that Draco had been through a rough time, losing his father. 

"Which is true," Molly's letter reluctantly conceded, "but that doesn't excuse his behavior." She had apparently also had a few "stern words" with Dumbledore about the dangers of the Physical Defense classes; she really didn't understand why it was necessary to teach the students to brawl like hooligans, but again, Arthur had deferred to the Headmaster's judgment. She admonished Ron to be careful, dress warmly, and eat all his vegetables. She also sent a package of home-baked cookies. Ron chuckled after reading the letter and shared some of the cookies with his visitors.

Finally, all his visitors left, leaving him alone with Madam Pomfrey, who was doing some paperwork in her office, and Draco, who was putting clean sheets on a nearby bed. "Want a cookie, Malfoy?" Ron offered, grinning mischievously. "It's thanks to you that Mum sent them."

"No thanks," Draco said sullenly.

"Suit yourself," Ron said with a shrug, and ate the cookie himself. It was strange; he had hated Malfoy for years, but now he felt almost sorry for the Slytherin boy. He couldn't imagine what it must be like, to have your father try to kill you. There had been times in the past when Ron had been a little ashamed of his family's poverty and his father's eccentric ways, but now he knew that he would never trade them for anyone else, whether Arthur Weasley was Minister of Magic or not. 

And it must be hard for Draco, to go from being somebody important to being a nobody; Ron knew what it was like to have people look down on you. Not that Malfoy didn't deserve it, in a way, since he had been one of the people who had looked down on the Weasleys, but he had turned out to be a halfway-decent sort once he stopped trying to be a Death Eater. He had broke off the Quidditch match to help Harry save Dylan when he could've kept going after the Snitch, which had come as a pretty big surprise to Ron.

"So, what's got you in such a bad mood, Malfoy?" Ron asked curiously.

"None of your business," Draco snapped. 

"Fine, but if you ever want to talk about it...well, I'm not going anywhere," Ron said. "At least not for another day or two."

For some reason, Ron's words seemed to infuriate Draco. "I don't need your pity, Weasley!" he snarled.

Ron shook his head. "Rosier's right, Malfoy. You can't tell when people are trying to be friends with you."

"Friends?" Draco snorted. "You and me? Don't make me laugh, Weasley!"

Ron shrugged and bit into another cookie. "The Gryffindor and Slytherin thing?" he asked, with his mouth half-full. "Don't see that it makes much difference these days--outside the Quidditch Pitch, that is. I still plan to kick your arse in our next match."

"You and what army?" Draco retorted, and Ron grinned at him. For a moment, Draco's sullen mask slipped from his face, and he looked strangely vulnerable--lonely and uncertain of himself, almost shy. It was a striking contrast to his normal arrogant self.

Draco opened his mouth, and Ron thought that maybe he was finally going to talk about what was bothering him, but just then, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and said, "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, are you still here? You can leave now, it's almost time for dinner."

The cold, arrogant look returned to Draco's face and he nodded curtly and left the hospital wing without another word, leaving Ron staring after him, feeling uneasy and a little worried, for some reason that he could not quite put his finger on.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Weasley?" Pomfrey asked.

"Uh...no, nothing," Ron replied. It's not like Malfoy would ever confide in him, anyway, he told himself. If something was bugging him, no doubt one of his Slytherin friends would get it out of him...except that Dylan seemed to think that Malfoy wasn't going to have any friends left pretty soon. 

"And I think you've had enough sweets for now, Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey said sternly, taking the package of cookies out of his hand. "The house-elves will be bringing dinner up for you soon, so you shouldn't be spoiling your appetite."

"Don't worry, ma'am," Ron said. "I always have a good appetite!"

Pomfrey smiled just a little before she forced her face back into a stern expression. "Just don't expect any sympathy from me if you get a stomachache, young man!"

"Yes, ma'am," Ron said with a grin, and lay back in bed, waiting for his dinner to served. It was almost a pity that his hospital stay would be over soon. After Pomfrey left, he remembered his concern about Malfoy, but decided that there was probably nothing to worry about. Lupin was protective of the Slytherins, so surely he would help out Draco if there was a problem. Draco was much more likely to confide in Lupin than in Ron, anyway.

*** 

After the cooling-off period Snape had dictated, Lupin called Draco into his office for a conference. Snape was there as well, although Lupin wasn't really sure if that was good idea or not, considering Snape's temper, especially when Draco was sitting there staring at them as defiantly and sullenly as he had been on the day of the incident. All of Lupin's questions were met with monosyllabic responses at best.

"So how are things going, Draco?"

Draco shrugged.

"You seem to be doing well in all your classes, apart from that incident in Master Diggory's class."

A grunt.

"Were you angry with Ron for some reason?"

Draco shook his head, and Snape said sharply, "I expect a verbal reply when someone asks you a question, Mr. Malfoy!"

"No," Draco said sulkily.

"Then what made you lose control that day?" Lupin asked.

"Nothing."

"I find that rather hard to believe, Draco."

"What difference does it make?" Draco asked sullenly. "I wrote the letters of apology, I'm serving my detention, and Madam Pomfrey hasn't complained about my work."

"The difference," Lupin said gently, "is that you seem unhappy, Draco, and we want to do whatever we can to help you."

Draco laughed, a derisive and humorless sound.

"Do you find something amusing, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, with that familiar tone of cutting sarcasm. When dealing with troublesome or troubled Slytherin children, he tended to slip into his menacing Potions Master mode, but Lupin was not really sure that was the correct approach here. When he spoke in that tone of voice, most of the Slytherins automatically obeyed him out of sheer force of habit. In the days immediately following the final battle, Snape had told Lupin that familiarity was comforting during times of change. It had certainly worked well enough on Dylan and Theo; while Lupin would have asked Theo if he wanted to live with them, Snape had commanded, and Theo had obeyed with relief and gratitude. Dylan, of course, had known Snape well enough to understand that his gruffness was a sign of his concern.

But Draco was a different story. Snape had always allowed Draco a certain amount of leeway, and had been unable to punish him too severely for fear of offending Lucius Malfoy and ruining his cover as a Death Eater. Draco was not used to being ordered around, and he did not seem to find Snape's overbearing manner comforting in the way that Dylan and Theo did.

Draco did not answer Snape directly, but said to Lupin in a rebellious voice, "I don't need your help!"

"Everyone needs help sometimes," Lupin said, his voice gentle and patient, as if he were trying to coax a wild animal to approach him. "Even myself and Severus. There's no shame in that." Snape did not look as though he agreed with Lupin that he had no problem with asking for help, but did not contradict his lover.

"I'm fine," Draco insisted. "I don't need anyone's help."

"Then why are you quarreling with all your friends?" Lupin persisted. "Why have you been in such a bad mood lately?"

"It's none of your business!" Draco snapped.

"Do not speak to us in that tone of voice, young man," Snape shot back, "unless you wish to add another week to your detention!"

"Go ahead!" Draco shouted. "I don't care!" Snape stared at him shock, not used to any student talking back to him that way, not even Draco.

Lupin got up from his desk and walked over to place a hand on Draco's shoulder; Draco immediately shoved it away. "We don't want to punish you, Draco," Lupin said softly. "We want to help you. We care about you, and we don't want to see you in pain, but we can't help you if you won't tell us what's wrong."

"You can drop the caring Gryffindor act," Draco sneered. "There's no danger of me becoming a Death Eater, so you can stop wasting your time pretending that you want to be my friend."

"But I'm not pretending," Lupin protested, looking very hurt. "I am your friend, and I do care about you! I care about all my students, and if that's not enough, you're my best friend's cousin!"

Snape instinctively reacted to defend his lover; the sight of Lupin in pain, whether physical or emotional, always triggered a surge of fierce protection and rage. "Whether you realize it or not, Malfoy," he snarled, "Lupin is the best friend you've ever had, and I will not tolerate you speaking to him that way! He defended you whenever someone in the Order wanted to write you off as a little Death Eater. He fought to save your soul from Voldemort, even when you taunted him and insulted him and looked down your snooty little Slytherin nose at him! He helped stop Moody from killing you with the Avada Kedavra spell on the battlefield! He saved your life, you miserable brat, and you will treat him with the respect he deserves!"

"I didn't ask him to!" Draco shouted. "If you want my life back, you can have it! If that's how you feel, maybe you should have let Moody kill me!"

Lupin and Snape both stared at him in shock, too stunned to react for a moment, which gave Draco enough time to jump to his feet and run out the door. "Draco!" Lupin shouted, but the boy kept running without even pausing to look back.

"You know that I don't really care about being treated with respect, Severus," Lupin said. He leaned back against the desk and sighed wearily, absent-mindedly running a hand through his long hair, pushing it back from his face. "All I care about is helping Draco."

"I know," Snape said, sounding a little guilty. "I just lost my temper, hearing him speak to you that way. I don't understand what's gotten into him; it's as if he's turned back into the old Draco Malfoy. No, actually it's worse--even in the old days, Draco never dared to talk back to me that way."

"He's practically begging for help," Lupin said, "but he keeps pushing us away, and I don't know how to help him." He leaned against Snape's chest for comfort, and Snape wrapped his arms around him.

"He's been through a lot ever since the war ended," Snape said, "and he's adjusted very well up until now--perhaps a little too well."

"Hmm," Lupin said, looking up from Snape's chest for a moment. "You think he may have been bottling up his emotions, and now they're finally escaping?" He thought about how Theo had repressed his fear and grief and guilt for years, and decided that it was not only possible, it was probable.

"Slytherins usually deal with problems by avoiding them, if possible," Snape said, then smiled. "Unless they have pushy little Gryffindor werewolves meddling in their lives, demanding that they stop trying to hide from whatever it is that they're avoiding."

Lupin laughed and nuzzled Snape's cheek affectionately. "But something must have happened to trigger this blowup. Or is it simply that his emotions built up to the breaking point and he couldn't hold them in any longer?"

"Theodore and Dylan said that the trouble all started around Valentine's Day, when Draco supposedly had a fight with Serafina," Snape reasoned logically. "So let us start by talking to Miss Avery."

But Miss Avery turned out to be very unhelpful, when they called her to the office. "I didn't fight with Draco," she said, her voice and face expressionless.

"But something happened on Valentine's Day," Lupin persisted; Serafina shrugged.

"The other Slytherins say that you and Mr. Malfoy have not spoken to each other since Valentine's Day," Snape said in a menacing voice.

Serafina, however, was one of the few students who was not cowed by Snape. "He was acting obnoxious," Serafina said calmly, "so I told him not to talk to me until he was ready to behave like a human being again."

"That sounds like a fight to me," Snape said sarcastically, but Serafina shook her head.

"No, sir. I'm not the one that Draco's mad at."

"Then who is he mad at?" Lupin asked gently.

"It isn't my place to tell you that," Serafina replied. "It's...personal. A matter of honor. Draco has to work it out for himself."

Lupin sighed; there was that Slytherin notion of "honor" again. Lupin still did not entirely understand what it meant. Sometimes it was merely standing by your word and keeping your promise, regardless of the consequences, and at other times it seemed to mean protecting the reputation and blood purity of your family. Lupin didn't think that Serafina cared very much about blood purity, so perhaps she had promised Draco not to talk about the argument.

"I understand that you want to protect Draco's privacy, Sera," Lupin said carefully. "And I wouldn't want you to break your word. But it's already been two weeks, and Draco clearly hasn't been able to work it out on his own. He really needs our help. Can't you please give us some idea of what's bothering him?"

Serafina frowned, looking very thoughtful, and was silent for a few minutes. Lupin waited patiently, and when Snape opened his mouth to scold the girl, Lupin held up a hand to stop him. Snape scowled, but closed his mouth and waited. Finally she said, "I don't think that you're the right person to help him with this, Professor."

"Why don't you let us be the judge of that?" Snape snapped.

Lupin motioned again for him to be quiet. "Then who can help him, Sera?"

Serafina hesitated before speaking, seeming to choose her words very carefully. "Draco has to decide whether he's going to let go of the past or not. He is the only one who can make that decision." And she refused to say anything more, not even when Snape threatened her.

"Miss Avery, I order you to tell me exactly what happened with Mr. Malfoy on Valentine's Day!" Snape shouted, although he knew as a Slytherin and former Death Eater that it was unwise to give an order that you knew would not be obeyed, as it diminished one's authority.

"I'm sorry, sir," Serafina said respectfully, "but I cannot obey that order. You may punish me as you see fit."

Snape sighed, admitting defeat. "Oh, get out of here, Avery," he growled. 

"If you change your mind, Sera," Lupin said quietly, "you can come see us at any time."

"But don't wait too long," Snape said dourly. "Let me remind you that Malfoy could have been sent to Azkaban if he had seriously injured Weasley."

Serafina just nodded and left Lupin's office.

"Well, that went very well," Snape said sarcastically.

"We did learn a few things," Lupin pointed out. "We learned that it wasn't a fight with Serafina that triggered this, and we learned that it has something to do with Draco's past. Perhaps we should see if any of the other teachers or students noticed anything that day at Hogsmeade."

"I'm sure they would have said something by now if they had," Snape said. "But I don't really have any better ideas, so we might as well give it a try."

"It's possible that someone might have seen something without realizing that it was important," Lupin suggested.

None of the students recalled noticing Draco until he and Serafina had walked into The Three Broomsticks, not speaking to each other. Draco had spent the entire Hogsmeade day there, sitting in a corner sulking and nursing a mug of butterbeer; Serafina had eventually left and stopped by a couple of shops by herself.

Most of the teachers couldn't remember seeing Draco at all. "He was in The Three Broomsticks, wasn't he?" McGonagall asked. "Master Satoshi was supposed to be keeping an eye on the students in that area."

Satoshi smiled sheepishly when Lupin and Snape came to question him. "Guess I've been found out. Yes, Draco and Serafina were right outside the inn when we arrived at Hogsmeade, but I...ah...turned away to talk to Madam Rosmerta for just a minute, and when I looked up, they were gone."

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the tanuki. "You mean you were too busy flirting with Rosmerta to watch the students like you were supposed to." Satoshi sprouted pointed ears and whiskers, which he laid back and drooped, respectively, in a show of contrition. "Cut that out!" Snape snapped irritably.

"They weren't gone long," Satoshi protested. "Not more than fifteen minutes at most, and they came back unharmed. I just assumed they'd gone off to spend a little time alone together. Draco seemed a little upset, so I thought maybe they'd had an argument, but it didn't seem to be anything serious."

"And that's all?" Snape asked suspiciously. "They didn't say where they'd gone, you didn't see anyone else in the vicinity?"

"No," Satoshi said. "I didn't see anyone but the two of them, and all they said was that they'd gone for a walk. It looked like they had left the town and were coming back from the direction of the station, possibly the lake?"

"A romantic walk by the lake?" Lupin wondered. "It was common enough for couples to do so, before the recent safety restrictions."

Snape and Lupin left the castle and walked along the shore of the lake. It wasn't as if they expected to find anything there two weeks later, but Lupin thought perhaps it might give them some insight and besides, it was a good excuse to go for a stroll with Severus. He slipped his hand through his lover's, and since no one else was present, Snape did not object, although he did glower at Lupin briefly, just on principle. Despite his concern for Draco, Lupin couldn't help but smile.

"When we were students, I always wished that we could walk by the lake holding hands like other couples, and now finally my wish has come true."

"Silly werewolf," Snape said.

Lupin grinned at him. "I always wanted to do this, too," he said, then leaned over and kissed Snape on the mouth. It was not a heated kiss, like the ones that were initiated by the wolf's hunger and were usually a prelude to sex. Rather, it was a gentle kiss, slow and sweet, almost hesitant, like two teenage boys kissing for the very first time. Both Lupin and Snape were a little breathless when their lips finally parted.

"I love you, Severus," Lupin whispered, wrapping his arms around Snape's waist and leaning into his chest. He sighed as he felt Snape's arms enfolding him in an embrace that made him feel secure and content, loved and protected.

Snape kissed the top of Lupin's head and said, "I love you, too, Remus." They held each other in silence for a few minutes before Snape finally broke the mood by clearing his throat and saying, "However, this isn't helping us solve Mr. Malfoy's problems."

Lupin chuckled and reluctantly pulled away from Snape. "I suppose you're right, Sev," he said with a rueful smile. "I don't really understand what could have disturbed Draco so much. Could he and Serafina have met someone during their walk, perhaps a villager who called him a Death Eater?"

"Perhaps," Snape said, a little dubiously. "Or perhaps he and Serafina were simply talking about the past and it brought back bad memories."

"Do you think we should talk to Narcissa?" Lupin asked. "Do you think she might know what's bothering him?"

"I don't think so," Snape said. "She hasn't seen him since the Quidditch match in January, and whatever happened to upset him took place recently."

"I know," Lupin said, "but perhaps he might have mentioned something in his letters to home?"

Snape shook his head. "Draco is protective of his mother. Partly my fault, I'm afraid. When Lucius was in prison, I encouraged Draco to be 'the man of the family' and protect his mother. I was simply trying to distract him and keep him out of trouble, but he took it quite seriously."

"Draco loves his mother, Severus," Lupin said. "I don't think he needed much encouragement to want to protect her."

"In any case," Snape continued, "even if something was bothering him, he wouldn't tell Narcissa about it because he wouldn't want to worry her. So I don't think we should worry her, either, at least until we find out a little more about the situation."

"Very well," Lupin sighed. "I'll keep trying to get through to Draco. And you should keep trying, too, Sev. But perhaps you should try being a little nicer to him next time?" Snape scowled at him, and Lupin smiled. "Since the threatening act didn't seem to work."

"It's not an act," Snape grumbled.

"Yes, love, of course," Lupin said in a soothing and slightly patronizing tone.

Snape glared at him. "Besides, you're supposed to be the compassionate one."

"But Draco's a Slytherin," Lupin said. "He relates to you better."

"I suppose," Snape said doubtfully.

"You were a pureblood heir, like he is," Lupin explained. "And you know what it's like to be outcast and ostracized from that world. I was never really a part of it to begin with."

"I'll try," Snape said. "But I'm not really good at this sort of thing."

"I know you'll do your best, love," Lupin said with a warm smile. "And you've done quite well with Theo and Dylan."

Snape just grunted in response, looking a little embarrassed. "Should we head back to the castle?"

"Not just yet," Lupin said. "It's rather nice and peaceful out here, don't you think?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "No noisy, whining brats."

So they sat on the shore of the lake, with Lupin leaning against Snape, comfortably resting his head on Snape's shoulder, and watched the sun set. They were a little late for dinner that evening, but when the other teachers asked them what had delayed them, Snape replied sourly, "It's the werewolf's fault," and Lupin just smiled and said nothing.

*** 

After finishing his shift at St. Mungo's, Takeshi Kimura went to work at the charity clinic in Diagon Alley, then finally went home late in the evening. It had become his usual routine, and his coworkers at St. Mungo's no longer bothered to ask him if he wanted to go out for a drink or a bite to eat with them after work. The last time that he had stopped by his parents' restaurant, Takeshi's mother had gently scolded him for working too hard. It was true that he was essentially holding down two full-time jobs, but someone had to man the clinic.

The werewolves couldn't do it by themselves; they needed at least one trained mediwizard or Healer there on a regular basis, especially now, with the full moon less than a week away. He could take some time off after the full moon passed, and things would get better once Sirius Black got the funding to hire paid workers to run the clinic. Unfortunately, the Ministry's attention was focused on the court battle between Lukas and Amos Diggory right now, and it was unlikely that any major budget requests--especially ones dealing with werewolves--would get approved until it was resolved. The anti-werewolf faction was being particularly obstinate, but if Lukas won his lawsuit, then Arthur Weasley and his supporters would gain the upper hand and be able to carry out their reforms.

But until then, there would be a lot of double shifts and late nights for Takeshi. He didn't mind; he had become friends with Lukas's pack and preferred their company to that of most of his human coworkers, many of whom had the typical pureblood prejudices and didn't understand why he would want to waste his free time helping werewolves. Still, his mother was probably right about him working too hard. Usually he liked to take a nice long soak in a hot bath before going to bed, but tonight he was too tired to bother; he took a quick shower and went to bed, and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Maybe overwork and exhaustion were responsible for the strange dream he had that night. In his dream he was naked, crouched down on all fours, his body trembling with anticipation as a large black wolf approached him. The wolf's eyes looked strangely familiar, but while he was trying to figure out why, the wolf mounted him and--

Takeshi cried out as he flung the blankets off himself, rising from sleep and from the bed with a sudden jerk. He sat there trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding and his body shaking with fear and shock. He was no bigot; he didn't think of the werewolves as monsters, and he had even slept with one of them, but he had never had any desire to make love to any of them in their wolf forms.

 _Dreams are symbolic,_ he reminded himself, forcing himself to take slow, even breaths in an effort to calm himself. _Just because I dreamed about a wolf doesn't mean that I really want to have sex with one._ His body, however, did not seem to think that the dream was symbolic, and was still in a painfully obvious state of arousal that made it difficult to think clearly.

A few more deep breaths, and a bit of Healing magic that was meant to calm a patient overcome with fear and pain, dulled the arousal enough for him to think more rationally. Professor Trelawney's classes had been a joke, and he had never given them a second thought after graduating, but he still had all of his old school textbooks, including his Divination texts. He walked over to the bookcase, and with a hand that trembled only slightly, pulled a book on dream symbology off the shelf. According to the book, a wolf symbolized fear of one's "animal" or aggressive and destructive side. It might also symbolize one's fear of sexuality.

Takeshi was a healer by profession and inclination, and would certainly prefer not to have to hurt anyone, but he was well aware of the destructive side of humanity, and was prepared to defend himself if he must. And while he was not promiscuous, he was no virgin. He'd had his share of lovers; he was comfortable with his sexuality; and his family was aware that he was gay and was fine with it. Of course it was difficult to be objective about oneself, but Takeshi didn't think that he had any subconscious fears about violence or sex.

But that was the western view of wolves. In Japan, wolves had been regarded as divine creatures and protective guardians; ironically, that had not prevented them from being hunted to extinction by the humans who had once revered them. But that didn't help Takeshi to interpret his dream, either. Why would he want to mate with a guardian spirit? Was he subconsciously seeking a lover who would protect him? He didn't particularly feel like he was in need of protection. 

Maybe he was intellectualizing this too much. The most obvious explanation was that the wolf represented a werewolf that he was attracted to. There were several handsome men in Lukas's pack, but none that he had strong romantic or sexual feelings for. Takeshi's friend Kian had black hair (and black fur in his wolf form), and they had once slept together, but it had been more for comfort than desire. About a year ago, Kian's heart had been broken by a man whose handsome face had hidden a callous heart, who had rejected Kian and called him a monster when he realized that his suitor was not human. It had also cost Kian his job, because his would-be lover was also his coworker, and he had revealed Kian's lycanthropy to everyone and got him fired. 

Fortunately for Kian's human paramour, it had been Takeshi that Kian had come to, crying his eyes out, not Lukas or one of the other werewolves, who might have been tempted to tear the man to pieces. Takeshi had started off trying to comfort his friend, and ended up making love to him in order to prove to Kian that he was not a monster, and that he was worthy of being loved and desired. But Takeshi's affection for Kian was more brotherly than romantic, and they had never slept together again. Kian had eventually recovered from his broken heart, and was now happily mated to another werewolf in the pack. 

Was his dream trying to tell him that he was in love with Kian? Takeshi didn't think so; he was genuinely happy that his friend had found a new lover, and he didn't harbor any feelings of jealousy or regret. When he looked at them, or at Brian and Kyra or any of the other happy couples that he knew, it made him feel a little wistful that he had not found his own soulmate yet, but he knew that Kian was not that person. There were other dark-haired werewolves in Lukas's pack, but Takeshi was pretty sure that none of them were meant to be his lover, either.

Takeshi sighed and gave up. Maybe the dream meant nothing more than that he had been working too hard at the clinic and that it had been too long since he'd last had sex. He spent so much of his time with werewolves that it wasn't really unusual that he might start dreaming about them. It didn't really mean anything, he told himself, just that he'd had werewolves on his mind while his subconscious was thinking about getting laid, like two wires getting crossed in his head by accident. Yes, that was all it was.

Feeling much better, he put the dream symbology book back on the shelf, and went to bed. He was a little afraid that his dream might pick up where it left off (and at the same time, a small, guilty part of him was secretly hoping that it would), but he was too tired to stay awake any longer, and besides, he had to be up and back at work at the hospital early tomorrow morning. It wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep again...

He was not really surprised to find himself back in the same dream, still nude, still on his hands and knees. The wolf was there, too, and Takeshi whimpered with both fear and desire as the wolf mounted him.

But as soon as wolf's front paws touched his back, they turned into human hands that caressed his back and chest soothingly. It was definitely a man's chest that pressed itself against his back as his dream lover embraced him, and it was definitely a pair of human lips that tenderly kissed the nape of his neck. Takeshi moaned as his lover entered him from behind--that part of him was very human as well! There was a feeling of being joined and made whole, not just in body, but in spirit, and his heart sang with joy as his body sang with pleasure--a pure, clear, ringing, sustaining note, as if his body were an instrument being played by a master musician.

Takeshi knew that this was only a dream, but he had never before had a dream that was so intense, that felt so real. He could feel the warmth of his lover's breath on the back of his neck, could hear him panting softly. He could feel his dream lover's fingers firmly grasping his hips, digging into his flesh almost painfully as he continued to thrust, and it felt good, so good, so much better than any real lover Takeshi had ever had before.

He tried to see the face of his mysterious lover, but his head felt heavy, as if weighted down by iron, and he was unable to turn his head even a fraction of an inch to look behind him. His lover thrust into him harder, and suddenly, seeing his face no longer seemed to matter to Takeshi. His body was certainly able to move freely enough, frantically pushing backwards to meet his lover's thrusts, and his hand reached up, seemingly of its own volition, without Takeshi really thinking about it, to stroke his aching erection, moving in time with his lover's thrusts.

His lover said nothing the entire time, only panted and growled softly into his ear in a wolfish manner. It was maddening; Takeshi felt like he should know who his unseen lover was. The answer lay in his mind, just out of reach, but the pleasure that surged through his body with each thrust pushed aside his attempts to think, like a wave that washed away anything in its path, and he finally gave in and surrendered himself completely to the pleasure.

With one last, deep thrust, his lover howled and then bit down hard on the back of Takeshi's neck, and Takeshi gasped and woke in the throes of the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life. Afterwards, he lay there in bed, trembling and weeping because he was alone once more. It was silly to be weeping over a dream, over a lover whose name he didn't know, whose face he had never seen, but that sense of joy, of having found his soulmate had been real, and to wake to find himself alone was devastating. The truth was that he was lonely, and he was more just than a little envious of all those happy couples he knew. 

There were several young nurses and mediwizards about the same age as Takeshi working at St. Mungo's, and none of them seemed eager to settle down yet, although one young pureblood's parents were trying to push him into an arranged marriage. "I'm too young to get married and settle down!" he had laughed. "I want to enjoy myself and have a little fun first!" 

The others had laughed and nodded in agreement, but Takeshi was tired of casual lovers and no longer interested in "fun". Yet he had never been in love, although he had once or twice mistaken infatuation for love. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever find his true love, his soulmate, the person who would complete him. Maybe such things only existed in the fairy tales his mother had told him as a child.

"You must not be so impatient, little brother," Takeshi's older brother Ichiro had once told him, in a tone of mingled sympathy and amusement. "Not even the mightiest sorcerer can command love to appear when he wills it. Surely true love is worth waiting for?"

Takeshi thought, somewhat uncharitably, that it was easy for his happily-married brother to say that. He wondered if the dream could be a premonition, but although a few of his mother's ancestors had possessed the gift of Sight, Takeshi had never shown much aptitude for Divination before.

Maybe he ought to consider the dream a hopeful omen, but he felt more embarrassed than hopeful, lying there in damp and stained pajamas. A quick charm rendered his clothing clean and dry once more, but did little to ease his discomfort. It was stupid to feel so deeply affected by a wet dream, but it had all seemed so real...

Takeshi cursed under his breath and rolled over in bed, knowing that he needed to get some rest but was too agitated to fall asleep right now. If the dream was an omen, it was a decidedly unhelpful one--how on earth was he supposed to find this mystery lover when he didn't know his name or what he looked like? It was so unfair, to be offered a brief moment of joy, only to have it snatched away again. He wished that he'd never had the dream at all, because it left him feeling even more lonely than he had before.

*** 

Lukas left the Ministry building after his latest court date, and found himself heading in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. He abruptly stopped and cursed himself a few blocks later, then turned in the opposite direction. There was no point in going to the inn when Narcissa would not be there to meet him, but he didn't feel like going back to Hogwarts yet, either. He was tempted to return to his old haunts in Knockturn Alley to get a drink, but Morrigan would scold him if she found out about it. A proper pureblood Lord did not frequent seedy bars in Knockturn Alley, and no doubt she would say that it would damage his reputation if someone saw him there and gossiped about it.

But he didn't want to go somewhere "respectable," where the other pureblood patrons would look down their noses at him. Maybe he should go to the townhouse where his pack lived and have a drink there. There was bound to be some alcohol in the house; if nothing else, Ash always kept a stash of Firewhiskey hidden in his room. But if Rachel was there, she would scold him for drinking in the middle of the day, and the other wolves would want to know why he was in such a bad mood. Lukas growled softly, feeling rather put-upon. 

Damn it, he was the pack leader, after all! He should not have to worry about his pack scolding him or pestering him with nosy questions. Of course, they would back down if he forced them to; their wolfish instincts would cause them to submit to their leader, and he was the pack leader not just because he'd had a vision of uniting the werewolves and giving them a sense of belonging, but because he was the strongest werewolf among them. His pack was unswervingly loyal to him now, but in the early years, he'd had to fight a few challengers and skeptics to prove his dominance. 

He still cuffed the cubs when they got out of line, but now it was mostly in play. To rule through fear and brute force was Voldemort's way, not his. He would never punish his pack just because they told him something that he didn't want to hear; they were his friends and family, not his lackeys. And besides...they scolded and pestered him because they loved him and were concerned about him.

Lukas sighed wearily. Trying to switch back and forth from thinking like a pureblood to thinking like a werewolf was beginning to give him a headache. He was tempted to say to hell with it, and let Amos keep the title. Right at this moment, he desperately wished that he could go back to being an anonymous werewolf. He had been much happier when he had simply been Lukas Bleddri instead of Cyril Diggory, heir to the Diggory estate.

But Lupin and Morrigan would be disappointed in him, and Lady Selima would never let him hear the end of it. And more importantly, he needed the resources of the estate to help his pack. The Diggory mansion, while modest in comparison to Snape Manor, was large enough to house his entire pack if need be, and the children could safely run and play on the lawns and in the nearby woods instead of in the street or in dirty alleyways. And when those children were old enough to go to Hogwarts, he could afford to pay for their school uniforms, books, and equipment.

But in order to accomplish these things, Lukas needed to win his lawsuit and gain control of the estate, or his pack would go back to living hand-to-mouth, barely making ends meet. So he couldn't give up now. Besides, he would be damned if he would give Amos the satisfaction. And his grandparents would probably roll over in their graves if they could see a pack of werewolves running around the hallowed family estate. That thought cheered him up a little, and he smiled maliciously.

Lukas sensed rather than heard someone approaching him as he walked past a narrow alley. He instinctively whirled about, anticipating an attack, and grabbed the arm of the person who moved out of the alley.

A cloaked and hooded figure let out a feminine squeal and Lukas stared at her in shock. "Narcissa?"

"You're hurting me!" she said, sounding frightened and indignant at the same time.

He loosened his grip and said, "Sorry, but didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a werewolf?" Without waiting for a reply, he drew her into the alley, out of sight of the pedestrians passing by on the main street. "What are you doing here?" he hissed. "Didn't you get my letter?"

"That's what I'm here about!" Narcissa hissed back angrily. "Do you think you can just cast me aside like some cheap harlot? If don't want to see me anymore, at least have the decency to tell me to my face!"

"Damn it, Narcissa, we can't do this out on the street!" Lukas growled. "What if that Skeeter woman should happen to pass by?"

"Then let us go somewhere more private, but I will not leave you alone until you give me an explanation," Narcissa said adamantly.

Lukas swore under his breath, then without warning, grabbed Narcissa, pulling her close to him, and Disapparated. Narcissa let out a startled squeak as they reappeared in the living room of the werewolves' London townhouse, and the three werewolves present--Kian, Rachel, and Kyra--yelped in surprise.

Lukas pulled Narcissa's hood down a little more securely over her face, then growled at the werewolves, "I don't want to be disturbed under any circumstances, and none of you are to mention this visit or my...guest...to anyone. Is that clear?" The werewolves stared at him in shock with their mouths hanging open, and Lukas didn't wait for a reply, but grabbed Narcissa's arm, dragged her into one of the upstairs bedrooms, slammed and locked the door, and cast a silence spell on the room for good measure.

"It was stupid of you to come here," he said curtly.

"You owe me an explanation!" Narcissa shouted. Was it just his imagination, or was there a hint of pain as well as anger in her green eyes?

"I said everything there was to say in the letter," Lukas said coldly. "It is too dangerous for us to keep meeting like this. People have already begun to gossip about my mysterious girlfriend. It's best to end it now before anyone discovers the truth."

"But...why now, and so suddenly?" Narcissa asked, looking confused.

"Do you want to wait until it's front page news in the Daily Prophet?" Lukas retorted. "It's your reputation I'm thinking of, Narcissa--yours and Draco's. How would your pureblood peers react if they found out that you were sleeping with a werewolf?"

"But...but...we could be more careful," Narcissa said uncertainly. "No one needs to find out."

It hurt to lose her, but it also hurt to know that she still thought of him as something to be ashamed of. Lukas deliberately let anger and bitterness color his voice as he said, "I am not your lapdog, Narcissa. I'm tired of our little games; go find a new toy to play with."

Her face turned red, and she looked both angry and guilty as she stammered, "You're not...that is...I don't..."

"Are you saying it's true love, then?" Lukas asked mockingly, borrowing one of Draco's taunts. He must be cruel; he must be cold; he must not show her any sign of how he truly felt. For her own sake--and for Draco's--he had to drive her away from him. "It was never anything more than sex between us, Lady Malfoy," he said in a cold, indifferent voice. "We both know that. It had to end eventually--what difference does it make if it ends today or tomorrow or next week?"

Narcissa looked hurt, angry, confused--and a little suspicious. "Then why today?" she asked. "Why not tomorrow or next week, or the week after that?"

"Why Narcissa," Lukas laughed desperately, "am I that good in bed, that you're so eager to prolong our little affair? I guess I should be flattered!"

"You bastard!" she cried, slapping him hard across the face, her long nails scoring four red lines along his cheek, almost like claw marks. Perversely, Lukas's inner wolf found it stimulating. It liked her ferocity and the way that she refused to back down or submit to him--alpha female to his alpha male. For a moment he forgot his resolve and stared at her with pure longing in his eyes.

"Lukas?" Narcissa whispered, moving a step closer to him, reaching out with one hand.

"There is no point to this," Lukas said in a flat voice, turning away and ignoring her outstretched hand. "We have no future, you and I. Even if I become Lord Diggory, will your pureblood friends accept me?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Narcissa replied softly, "My friends have all abandoned me, save for Aileen and Delia."

He needed to remind her of what was most important to her. "Would your son accept me as your lover, your mate?" he asked, in that same emotionless voice.

"No," Narcissa whispered despairingly. "He would never let anyone replace his father."

"Then it's pointless to continue this, don't you think?" Lukas asked. When Narcissa remained silent, Lukas said, "I am tired, Narcissa. There was a certain furtive thrill about it at first, but I am tired of sneaking around. I am tired of lying to my friends and my colleagues. I am tired of sleeping with someone who despises me, who sees me as nothing more than a beast."

"I don't..." Narcissa started to protest, but her voice trailed off. Lukas knew that she couldn't really deny it, because a part of her did think of him as a beast. Perhaps if it had not been for Draco, she could have overcome her pureblood prejudices with time--but then again, perhaps not. And now they would never know if their illicit affair could have developed into something deeper.

Without turning around, Lukas said coldly, "Go home, Narcissa. And please don't come back. I think it would be best if we have no further contact with each other in the future."

From behind him, he heard a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob (perhaps Narcissa really had cared for him, after all?), and then the louder cracking sound of someone Disapparating. When Lukas turned to look, Narcissa was gone and he was alone in the room. He threw back his head and howled mournfully.

Eventually Rachel, Kian, and Kyra worked up the courage to go upstairs and check on their pack leader when he did not emerge. They timidly knocked on the door and called out to him, and when he did not respond, they finally entered the room (after casting a spell to unlock the door). But the room was empty, and there was no sign of him or his mysterious guest.

*** 

Lupin spent the night of the full moon with his family as usual, romping with Dylan and Theo, then stretching out on the couch with his head in Snape's lap, tail wagging happily as Snape scratched him behind the ears. Then he yelped in surprise and his head jerked up off Snape's lap with a start when he heard a wolf's mournful howl off in the distance.

Snape, Theo, and Dylan jumped a little, too. "Merlin's Beard!" Snape exclaimed. "Is that Diggory? What on earth does that idiot think he's doing?"

Lupin could not answer in his wolf form, but cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression on his face that seemed to indicate that he was just as puzzled as Snape.

"He'll scare the students," Snape grumbled, "and then they'll write to their parents about it, and their parents will complain to Dumbledore. And if they make a big enough fuss, Amos Diggory will hear about it. That won't play out well in court, to have the future Lord Diggory baying at the moon. Not that I give a damn if the werewolf wants to screw up his case, but my mother will be furious and I'm sure that somehow she'll find a way to blame me for not preventing it." He glared down at Lupin. "As if I had any control over what some idiotic werewolf chooses to do. It's not like you ever listen to me, and I'm your mate, so I don't see why Diggory would bother."

Lupin just wagged his tail and licked Snape's face affectionately. The boys grinned at each other, trying to hide their laughter. They found it very amusing, how Snape tended to carry on a one-sided conversation with the wolf during the full moon. But then again, why shouldn't he? It wasn't as if Lupin was a dumb animal; he could understand what Snape was saying even if he couldn't answer, and besides, he usually managed to express himself quite well without words--as he was doing now.

"Well, Master Diggory's not dangerous as long as he's taking his potion," Dylan pointed out logically. He came over and sat on the couch beside Lupin and patted him fondly, and the wolf temporarily turned its attention from Snape to its cub, and began licking Dylan's face instead; Snape used the reprieve to wipe his face on his sleeve. Dylan laughed and continued, "It doesn't harm anyone if he wants to howl at the moon. And you did say that the werewolves' animal instincts get stronger near the full moon."

"Yes, Lupin is the very image of a wild beast," Snape said sarcastically as Lupin wagged his tail and kept licking Dylan's face. Theodore and Dylan both laughed. "However, even if the howling does no harm, it will reinforce the idea that Diggory is a beast in the minds of certain members of the Wizengamot."

"It's a little odd," Theodore said, frowning thoughtfully. "I thought that Master Diggory usually spent the full moon with his pack or with us. Why is he out alone on the school grounds?"

"How would I know?" Snape said peevishly. "Maybe he had an urge to go hunting in the Forbidden Forest."

Dylan's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. "You don't suppose that there's another werewolf out there, do you?"

"Oh Merlin, I hope not!" Snape groaned. "That's all we need, a rogue werewolf running around the campus!"

"Maybe he'll eat Malfoy," Theodore joked. Lupin gave him a disapproving look, and Theodore said, "Sorry, Remus; you know I didn't really mean it. But Draco has been a real pain in the arse lately." 

Lupin's blue eyes looked gentle and worried, and seemed to say without words, "Please be patient with him."

"Yes, Remus," Theodore sighed, and reached out to scratch behind Lupin's ears. He didn't seem to notice that he was doing the same thing that he had just been laughing at Snape for doing--carrying on a one-sided conversation with the wolf.

Meanwhile, in the Slytherin common room, Aric exclaimed, "Merlin's Beard! What on earth is that?!"

"It sounds like a wolf," Crabbe replied helpfully. "It must be Professor Lupin or Master Diggory."

"I know that, you moron!" Aric snapped, and Crabbe scowled at him. "What I meant was, why are they out howling at the moon?"

"Not 'they,'" Goyle corrected. "It sounds like just one wolf."

"Do you think something's wrong?" Crabbe asked anxiously, forgetting his anger. "We've never heard them howl like that before. At least, not since third year when Lupin forgot to take his potion and went wild during the full moon."

"He almost ate Potter, Weasley, and Granger," Goyle informed Aric. 

"What a pity," Aric muttered. "The 'almost' part, I mean." The other Slytherins laughed, except for Daphne, who gave him a dirty look.

Draco ignored his housemates, who took no notice of it, since they were used to it by now. But for once, he wasn't sulking. He was concentrating on the howling, and somehow he knew that it was Diggory and not Lupin. It was a mournful and heartrending sound, as if the wolf was pouring all its sorrow and loneliness into its voice. Could it be that Diggory really had cared about Narcissa, after all? Was he howling because he missed her?

Draco shook his head, chiding himself for such a silly and sentimental thought. A wolf's howl always sounded eerie and mournful; it was nothing special. And anyway, he didn't care whether the stupid werewolf's feelings were hurt or not. He deserved to suffer for what he had done. But Draco felt uneasy and guilty all evening, and had a difficult time falling asleep later that night, even after the howling had stopped.

*** 

The following morning, Aric received a letter from home which read:

Dear Aric,

We hope that you will be pleased to learn that we have begun negotiating a marriage contract with the Tierney family. It is a bit sudden, I realize, but the Tierney daughter, Miranda, who just graduated from Beauxbatons this past summer, is a bit headstrong and impulsive, and her parents feel that a betrothal will help settle her down and keep her out of mischief. She is a very beautiful young woman, as you can see (we've enclosed a picture), so you should have no complaints in that department.

The Tierneys approached us because we were old acquaintances and housemates back in Hogwarts, and we are one of the few high-ranking Slytherin families not tainted by association with the Death Eaters--our long estrangement from the Notts has turned out to have some benefits, after all. It would be quite an advantageous match, as Mr. Tierney was recently promoted to Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic, and he could guarantee you a Ministry job after you graduate. Your mother heard from Mrs. Deveraux that you were interested in becoming a mediwizard, but I'm sure you will agree that this is an opportunity that cannot be passed up. You will have far more influence and status working at the Ministry than at St. Mungo's, especially with Mr. Tierney as your mentor. Perhaps you will become Department Head, or even Minister of Magic someday!

Speaking of the Deveraux family, we hope that you have not become too attached to Yvonne. We had heard that you two are no longer seeing each other, which is just as well, considering the potential betrothal. Yvonne is a nice girl of good family, but Miranda is just as beautiful, and her family is far more wealthy and powerful.

Nothing has been formalized yet, of course. We will discuss this further when you come home for Easter break, and you can have a chance to meet the Tierneys and get to know Miranda a little better. If all goes well, we would like to have the betrothal contract drawn up and signed by the time you graduate, although the actual marriage will probably not take place for about another year, after you are firmly established in your new job.

Love,  
Father and Mother

*** 

Aric's face turned white as he stared at the letter in his hands. He had always known that his parents would arrange a marriage for him someday, but he never thought that it would happen so soon. And he never thought that they would simply pick out a girl and order him to marry her. He had thought that he would have some say in the matter, that they would sit down and discuss the potential marriage partners that were available from the families of appropriate rank. He didn't want to marry Yvonne, but at least she was someone that he knew and was familiar with; he didn't even know Miranda. He had met her maybe once or twice, at some sort of party his parents had dragged him to, and that had been at least ten years ago.

He looked at the picture; she was pretty enough, with long blonde hair and big blue eyes, but her full lips were set in a pout, and there was a stubborn, willful look in her eyes. "Headstrong" probably translated to "self-centered and spoiled," and "impulsive" probably meant that she liked to run wild and her family wanted to marry her off before she irreparably damaged her reputation. Although if she was that wild, Aric doubted that a betrothal would stop her. In that case, her family might push for the marriage to take place sooner than his parents thought, maybe right after graduation, even. Or maybe the Tierneys just thought that he would overlook his bride's soiled reputation in exchange for a Ministry position.

Aric felt his body go cold and numb, as if all the blood was draining out of it, and his hands began to shake a little. Damn Yvonne and her big mouth! She must've told her mother about his career plans, and Mrs. Deveraux had told his mother. But he was more angry with his parents than he was with Yvonne. He could have forgiven them for trying to set him up with a Ministry position if they didn't know that he wanted to become a mediwizard. But they did know, and they had carelessly brushed aside his plans and dreams as if they were insignificant. Surely they knew that he wanted to become a mediwizard because of Rafe! Didn't they realize how important this was to him?

"Aric, are you okay?" Theodore asked anxiously, and Aric looked up and stared incredulously at his cousin.

"You look awful, Dietrich!" Crabbe said, although he didn't sound particularly concerned about Aric, more like he was making an interesting observation. "You look all pasty and white, like you're about to faint."

"Is it bad news from home?" Theodore asked, sounding genuinely worried. "Are your parents and Erika all right?"

Aric had taunted Theo before for not being a "proper" pureblood. But a proper pureblood would jump at the chance to make an advantageous marriage and get a fast-track job at the Ministry. A proper pureblood always did his duty to his family, even if it conflicted with his personal desires. And suddenly Aric hated Theo for having the freedom to do what he wanted, to love whom he wanted, without having to worry about duty or propriety.

"Like you care!" Aric snarled.

"I know that you hate me," Theodore said quietly. "And I don't like you very much, either. But that doesn't mean that I'd wish any harm on your family. You and Erika and I used to play together as children and--"

"You're not part of my family anymore, you fucking queer!" Aric shouted viciously. "So just stay away from us! You wanted to be a Snape, so just stick with your Death Eater pervert father and his pet werewolf and your little boyfriend and leave me and my family the hell alone!"

Blaise glared at him, and Damien and Dylan lunged to their feet, looking ready to attack him at the slightest provocation, but Theo just sat there, looking more puzzled than angry. Aric's hands were shaking, his whole body was visibly trembling, and he wished that his cousin would get angry, wished that Theo would attack him so that he would have an excuse to attack Theo in return. He was filled with a blinding sense of rage, worse than any he'd ever felt before, even when he had found out how Rafe had died. He knew that he was balanced on a knife's edge, poised to tip over into insanity, and he didn't care. He wanted to hurt Theo, maybe even kill him, and he didn't care about the consequences...

"'Death Eater pervert'?" Snape asked mockingly. "Couldn't you come up with a better insult than that? I'm disappointed in you, Dietrich."

Snape's voice brought Aric back to reality, and his rage ebbed slightly, just enough so that he was no longer insane enough to contemplate committing murder and being sent to Azkaban. Feeling somehow disappointed and cheated, Aric turned around to see Snape and Lupin standing behind him. The Potions Master was gazing at him with a look of cold distaste, the way one might regard some vile substance that one had just stepped in by accident, while the werewolf merely looked concerned.

Lupin very gently placed a hand on his shoulder and asked in a soft voice, "What's wrong, Aric?"

"Nothing's wrong!" Aric snapped, rudely brushing Lupin's hand away. "I'm just sick of this school and everyone in it! Maybe I should go back to Durmstrang!"

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Dylan muttered under his breath.

"It's too late to transfer now," Lupin said in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice that somehow made Aric even angrier. "The school year's more than half over. You'd have difficulty switching over and trying to catch up to a new curriculum, and I don't think that Durmstrang would permit it, especially since this is your final year." He gave Aric a suprisingly kind and friendly smile, considering the insults that Aric had just uttered. "I'm afraid you're stuck with us, Mr. Dietrich."

"You will serve a week's detention, Mr. Dietrich," Snape said sourly, "and you will be confined to the castle for that duration."

"Except for Herbology, Astronomy, and Care of Magical Creatures classes," Lupin pointed out helpfully, although Aric would have welcomed the chance to skip Hagrid's class. "Those take place out of doors."

"Yes, I suppose so," Snape agreed grudgingly. "But if you set one foot outside of the castle when you are not in class, I will double your detention."

"Fine," Aric said sulkily.

Lupin's eyes shifted towards the letter Aric had left lying on the table. "What happened to upset you so, Aric? Bad news from home?"

Aric hastily grabbed the letter and shoved it into his pocket. "None of your business!" he snapped.

Snape scowled at him. "And you will write five hundred lines: 'I will not be disrespectful towards the werewolf'."

"Fine!" Aric snarled, and ran out of the Great Hall.

"By the way, Sev," Lupin said mildly, "isn't it a bit disrespectful to refer to me as 'the werewolf'?"

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape said distractedly. "Are you all right, Theodore? What happened to set Dietrich off?"

"Yes, sir, I'm fine," Theodore replied. "I'm not sure why Aric got so upset, but it was because of something in that letter."

"Some kind of threat?" Snape wondered. "Like the anonymous note Potter got?"

Lupin shook his head. "It was delivered by the same owl that brings all his gifts and letters from home. That's why I asked if it was bad news from home."

"He looked awful," Theodore said. "Like someone had just died or something. Please Father, Remus, could you find out if something has happened in the Dietrich family?"

"Why should you care about them after the way they treated you?" Dylan asked.

"I don't like them, and I would be just as happy not to ever have to see any of them again," Theodore replied. "But...they weren't Death Eaters, and they are Rafe's family. I don't really want anything bad to happen to them."

Lupin smiled at him lovingly. "I'm very proud of you, Theo," he said, laying his hand on Theodore's shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "We'll try to find out what happened."

"Thank you, Remus."

"Try to be patient with Aric, will you?" Lupin asked. "I know it's hard to just sit there and take his insults, but there's something a little off about his outburst. I can't help but feel that he wasn't really mad at you--"

"At least no more than usual," Theodore agreed. "Like he was upset about the letter and was just taking it out on me." Lupin smiled again and nodded approvingly.

"Well, I still don't like it," Dylan said, still looking angry and protective of his brother. "But we'll try to stay clear of Dietrich till you figure out what's going on."

"You will stay clear of Dietrich, period," Snape said sternly. "Lupin and I will handle him. You won't help the situation by getting into a brawl with Dietrich, do you understand me, Mr. Rosier?"

"Yes, sir," Dylan said reluctantly.

"Good," Snape said, and left the Great Hall with Lupin following behind him.

"So how are we going to find out if something's wrong in the Dietrich family, Severus? I doubt that they'll be inclined to confide in us."

"Where else would we go to find out the latest gossip in the wizarding world, Lupin?" Snape asked, as if the answer should be obvious. 

"You mean...?"

"I'm going to call my mother."

Snape went back to his quarters and used his communication mirror to contact Lady Selima, who looked intrigued by what he had to say. "Why don't you stop by for some tea afterschool?" she suggested. "I should have some information for you by then. Or if the news is urgent, I'll send a message to the school."

"She looks quite happy," Lupin observed after Snape ended the spell and the mirror went blank.

"That's because she is in her element," Snape replied. "This is what pureblood women live for, after all--to gossip about their peers."

Lupin shook his head. "It seems like a waste of Lady Selima's considerable talent, but I suppose that at least this time her gossip sessions are helping us to help a student."

"It's not a complete waste of time," Snape said, somewhat to Lupin's surprise. "They don't gossip just for pure entertainment, or at least my mother doesn't. It's a means by which to gather information and exert influence to promote your family's standing."

"I'm afraid that I will never really understand the Slytherin way of thinking," Lupin sighed.

"Oh, you seem to understand it well enough to manipulate me and my Slytherins," Snape said dryly, "and even Lady Selima." Lupin just grinned at him. "And my mother's talents are not wasted, Lupin. She's been running the Snape estate behind the scenes for years, probably even before my father got sick."

"A formidable woman, your mother," Lupin said, still grinning.

"Indeed," Snape said.

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Neither Draco nor Aric made any trouble in class for a change; they were both sullen but quiet. Lupin was so worried about Aric that he completely forgot that he had been concerned about the howling he had heard last night. McGonagall, however, had not forgotten.

Lukas skipped breakfast, as he sometimes did the morning after the full moon, but he did show up on time to teach his classes, and he joined the other teachers in the Great Hall for lunch. "Master Diggory," McGonagall said sternly, "was that you I heard howling last night?"

"Yeah, and what of it?" Lukas retorted in a surly tone that none of the other teachers would ever have dared to use on her. He looked pale and tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and he sounded almost as sullen as Draco and Aric.

"Some of the students found it disturbing," McGonagall, glaring at him as if she would like to give him detention. "It is hardly seemly for a teacher to be running around howling at the moon and frightening the students!"

"Oh, give me a break!" Lukas scoffed. "You've got a giant squid and mermen in the lake; giant spiders, centaurs, and God knows what else in the forest; not to mention exploding furballs and flesh-eating horses in Hagrid's classes--"

"Hey!" protested Hagrid indignantly.

"--so I hardly think that the students will be traumatized by a little howling," Lukas finished sarcastically.

"That may be true, Lukas," Dumbledore said in a pleasant tone as McGonagall fumed, "but you know that if Amos Diggory hears about this, he'll use it against you in court. I think it would be best if you...ah...restrain your wolfish instincts in the future, at least until your lawsuit has been resolved."

Lukas noticed Sprout frowning at him disapprovingly, and he said pointedly, "Oh, I'm sure my dear uncle will hear about this--you Hufflepuffs stick together, don't you? House loyalty and all that..."

Sprout's face turned red, although Lupin was not sure whether it was due to anger, guilt, or possibly both. Before she could reply, Dumbledore said, "I am sure that Professor Sprout will behave in a professional manner and respect the confidentiality of her colleagues." His voice was mild, but there was a look of warning in his eyes that seemed to be directed at both Sprout and Lukas.

"I'm not one to go telling tales," Sprout said stiffly. "But neither will I cover up for anyone if they become a danger to the students."

"It's bad enough that the students are always fighting with one another," Branwen said irritably. "But how are they supposed to overcome this silly House rivalry when the teachers are sniping at each other?"

"I never even belonged to a bloody House!" Lukas growled.

"Amos Diggory is a fellow Hufflepuff, yes," Sprout said, glaring at Branwen. "But he is also a friend that I have known for several years." She turned to look Lukas in the eye. "He is a good man. He was a good father to his son."

"Yes, yes, I've heard all about what a wonderful father Amos was," Lukas said bitterly. "But no one seems to care what happened to my father."

"I'm sorry about your father," Sprout said, looking uncomfortable. "But I can't believe that Amos could possibly have had anything to do with his death. There's no proof that it was anything other than an accident."

"But I am living proof that he is guilty of at least one crime," Lukas said, his yellow-green eyes hard and cold. "The crime of conspiring to fake my death, cheat me of my inheritance, and imprison me on the Gravenor estate."

"Perhaps what he did was wrong," Sprout said, looking less certain of herself, "but I am sure his intentions were good--"

"And we know what the road to hell is paved with," Snape muttered under his breath.

Sprout shot a quick glare his way, then continued, "I am sure he didn't know that the Gravenors were mistreating you."

"I doubt that he cared what they did with me once I was out of his sight," Lukas said bitterly.

"I'm sure that he--"

"You sound just like his lawyer, do you realize that?"

The other teachers were beginning to look nervous and embarrassed about witnessing what seemed like a rather private and personal quarrel, except for Branwen, who was looking increasingly vexed, and Snape, who was affecting an air of cynical indifference. And also Lupin, who was looking very frustrated.

"Enough!" cried Lupin, throwing his fork down on the table. "Enough, already!" Everyone turned to stare at him in shock, including Sprout and Lukas. "I am sick of House rivalries, I am sick of watching this school slowly become as divided as it was before the war, and I am sick of watching you two fight in full view of the students you are supposed to be setting an example for!"

Lupin rose from his seat and was about to leave the table when Snape said sarcastically, but with a faint hint of amusement, "Oh, that's setting a good example for the students, Lupin--storming out of the Hall in the middle of lunch." Lupin glared at him for a moment, then smiled sheepishly and sat back down.

Sprout and Lukas looked chastened as well, especially when they saw the students watching the head table with obvious interest in their eyes. "Sorry, Remus," Lukas mumbled, and Lupin had a mental image of a wolf laying back its ears and tucking its tail between its legs, which made him smile.

"You're right," Sprout said. "We shouldn't be fighting in front of the students, regardless of our personal feelings." She looked at Lukas, her face still stubborn and determined, but less hostile now. "I doubt that either of us will be able to change the other's mind, so let us agree to disagree, Master Diggory." She held out her hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Lukas shook it.

"Agreed."

"It's so much fun to watch you lose your temper, Lupin," Snape whispered to his lover. "Considering that it doesn't happen very often, and it's even more rare when I am not the cause of it."

Lupin smiled and whispered back, "I love you, too, Sev."

"Not in public, Lupin!" Snape said in a huffy tone, and Lupin's smile grew wider. 

After lunch, Lupin told Snape, "I'll meet you after classes are over," then hurried to catch up with Lukas. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Lukas?" he called.

"Make it quick, Lupin," the other werewolf growled. "We both have classes to teach."

"Then I'll get right to the point," Lupin said. "What's wrong? I know it's not the Wolfsbane Potion, because we both drank from the same batch and I was fine. You never spend the full moon alone, so what were you doing out on the school grounds, away from your friends and your pack?"

"It's none of your business, Lupin," Lukas said. He started to turn away, but Lupin was not willing to give up yet, and he moved closer, invading the other werewolf's personal space in a rare aggressive move, until his face was only a few inches away from Lukas's. The werewolf leader was too startled by Lupin's unusual behavior to immediately react.

"I am a wolf, too, Lukas," Lupin whispered. "The others might not have noticed anything unusual other than the howling itself, but I know that you weren't just howling at the moon like an ordinary wolf. It was a sound filled with loneliness. I remember howling the same way myself once, when Severus had been called to a Death Eater meeting, and I didn't know whether I would ever see him alive again or not." Lukas flinched, and Lupin's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is going on, Lukas?"

"I said it's none of your business!" Lukas growled, roughly shoving Lupin away from him.

"I am your friend, Lukas," Lupin said. "If you are in pain, I want to help you. Or if you won't talk to me, go to your pack, but don't deal with this alone, whatever it is. You know that the term 'lone wolf' is an oxymoron--wolves are pack animals. We are not meant to be alone."

Lukas suddenly looked weary and sad. "Thank you for your concern, Remus," he said in a quiet voice. "But this is not something you can help me with. I'm afraid that this is something I must deal with on my own, even if it is contradictory to the nature of the wolf."

"But--" Lupin protested, but Lukas was already walking away. Lupin heaved a sigh of exasperation. Why was everyone suddenly so stubborn about accepting help from him?

*** 

Lupin and Snape did not hear from Lady Selima by the time school was over for the day, so they took the Floo to Snape Manor, where Vorcher had already laid out tea for all of them.

"So what did you hear?" Lupin asked anxiously as he accepted a cup from the house-elf.

"A few interesting bits of gossip," Selima replied, "although I'm not sure how much help they will be to you. First of all, you must understand that the Dietrich family has been on the fringes of high society for the past several years. They are a wealthy family of old and pure blood, and they formed a marriage alliance with the Notts through Marta and Thaddeus. But as you know, relations between the two families became strained after young Rafe disappeared. The Dietrich family never openly accused Thaddeus of wrongdoing, but they began distancing themselves from the Notts and the other suspected Death Eaters. They sent their children to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, and they socialized as little as possible with the Death Eaters, even though that meant forgoing a number of important parties and events. 

"The ties of marriage between the two families prevented Lucius Malfoy from taking direct retribution against the Dietriches, but because they did not toady to him, neither did they receive the plum Ministry positions that Lucius arranged for his sycophants. They lived quietly, keeping a low profile. When their daughter Erika graduated, they did not try to arrange a marriage for her with a high-ranking young pureblood man, because the families of the highest rank were mostly cronies of Lucius Malfoy. Instead, she took a job at the German branch of Gringotts, probably for the same reasons that she went to Durmstrang in the first place."

"To keep her--and Aric--out of reach of the Death Eaters," Lupin said quietly.

Selima nodded. "Not that they couldn't have gotten to the children if they had really wanted to, but it would have required a great deal of effort, probably more than the Death Eaters were willing to expend when the Dietriches were not really a threat to them. If they had remained in England, though, either Lucius or Thaddeus might have been tempted to try something, to teach the Dietrich family a lesson, or even just out of sheer spite. Thaddeus always was a sadist, even as a child. He once drowned a litter of stray kittens for his own amusement when he was ten years old."

"This little history lesson is all very interesting, Mother," Snape said impatiently, "but I don't see what this has to do with Mr. Dietrich's outburst this morning."

"I am getting to that, Severus," Selima admonished him. "I am merely giving Professor Lupin some background so that what I have to say will make more sense to him. First of all, there have been no deaths, illnesses, or injuries in the Dietrich family, so you may rest assured that that is not the cause of young Aric's distress."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lupin sighed in relief.

"However, I have heard some gossip that Dietriches have recently been entertaining the Tierney family," Selima continued.

"Who?" Lupin asked.

"A pureblood family of middle rank," Selima explained. "Not poor, like the Zabinis, but not wealthy or powerful enough to warrant Lucius Malfoy's attention, which turned out to be a good thing for them. Edward Tierney had a midlevel job at the Ministry, but was promoted to Head of International Magical Cooperation after several vacancies opened up after the demise or imprisonment of a number Ministry workers after the war ended." She smiled ironically. "It seems like the Death Eaters and their lackeys made up half of the Ministry staff."

"A slight exaggeration, but not by much," Snape admitted.

"Incidentally, Arthur Weasley offered it to your friend Sirius Black first," Selima told Lupin. "But he turned it down in favor of the Werewolf Support position. Everyone thought he was crazy, since the International Cooperation position was clearly the more prestigious one. But then, he is a Gryffindor."

"And everyone knows we Gryffindors are all crazy!" Lupin laughed. Selima actually smiled--a very faint but genuine smile, which pleased Lupin. He had noticed that she finally seemed to have accepted him as a part of Severus's life. She seemed to take it for granted that he would come along whenever Severus went to Snape Manor, without pointedly issuing a special invitation giving him permission to come, and she no longer regarded him with that air of grudging, long-suffering tolerance.

"Yes, everyone knows that the Gryffindors are a bunch of noble, self-sacrificing fools," Snape said, "but how does this relate to Mr. Dietrich?" 

"I'm getting there, Severus," Selima said. "As I said, the Tierneys have been calling upon the Dietrich family quite often of late--more than ordinary socializing would warrant. Edward Tierney went to school with Aric's parents, and they were all in Slytherin together, but they were not especially close. Normally they see each other no more than a few times a year, usually at parties given by mutual friends. But the Tierneys have visited the Dietrich residence, or vice versa, several times in the last few weeks."

"And do you know why the two families are suddenly so friendly?" Snape asked with a wry smile.

"Of course, Severus," Selima replied, looking a little offended that he would cast doubt upon her information-gathering skills. "The Tierneys have a daughter who has recently come of age and graduated from Beauxbatons--a pretty but spoiled and willful young woman. She has caused her parents much distress in recent months--running with the wrong crowd, frequenting bars and nightclubs inappropriate for a woman of her breeding and rank, and...ah...being indiscreet with young men. Many young men. 

"No official announcement has been made yet, but I think it's quite likely that her parents are hoping that a husband and a few babies will settle her down, or at least keep her too busy to get into trouble. Which may be hoping for too much, but that's not my problem. In any case, the Dietrich family has pure blood, a fair amount of wealth, a son of marriageable age, and most of all, they are not tainted by association with the Death Eaters. Even though Marta was married to one, everyone knows that the Dietriches unofficially repudiated their alliance with the Notts. Now that the Malfoys and their allies have fallen in status, there is an opportunity for the clans who remained neutral during the war to advance themselves."

Selima paused to take a sip of tea, and Lupin exclaimed, "You think that Aric's parents want to marry him off to this Tierney girl?!"

Selima seemed a little surprised by the expression of shock on Lupin's face. "That would be the most logical explanation. Although I don't really see why it should upset the boy so much. Although I suppose the prospect of marrying Miranda might be a little dismaying..."

"A little!" Lupin cried. "I would think that your parents arranging to marry you off to a stranger might be more than a little dismaying! And Aric's only just turned eighteen, he hasn't even finished school yet!"

"I was only eighteen when I married Severin," Selima reminded him. "I had no choice in the matter, but I didn't whine about it. Then again, parents do seem to spoil their children shamelessly these days." 

"But...but..." Lupin stammered as Selima calmly drank her tea. "But after everything you've been through...would you really wish that experience on a child...to be forced into a loveless marriage of convenience?"

Selima stared back at Lupin, her black eyes expressionless. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her, she would say or do something that caught him completely off-guard. He knew that she loved Theo and Severus in her own way, so it startled him to see her behaving with the cold and ruthless practicality of the Lady Snape he had first met. But perhaps he was unfairly projecting his Gryffindor idealism onto her; she had changed a great deal, to be sure, but it was unrealistic to expect her to turn into Molly Weasley. 

Sometimes he thought that the Slytherins were incredibly complex, rather like an onion--every time you peeled back one layer, there was always another beneath it. Maybe that was why Severus had been able to juggle his roles as teacher, Death Eater, and spy so efficiently, because every Slytherin wore several different masks and played several different roles in his or her life, depending on whom they were with.

"It's hardly a fate worse than death, Professor," Selima said in a cool voice. "Your student Aric comes from an old-fashioned family. His parents' marriage was arranged, and I'm sure he knew that they would arrange a marriage for him one day--although perhaps he didn't expect it to happen quite this soon. Is there some young lady that he has his heart set on?"

"He took Yvonne Deveraux to the Yule Ball," Snape replied, "but I don't think it was anything serious. I don't really keep track of the students' lovelives, but I'm pretty sure he's not dating anyone right now, if only because he's alienated most of his housemates." He looked over at Lupin, who was frowning thoughtfully. "Or do you know something I don't, Lupin?"

"Er...no," Lupin said. "I'm sure he's not dating any of the Slytherin girls. But it might still be upsetting to learn that you will have no say in whom you are to marry. And your description of his potential bride was hardly appealing."

Selima waved one hand in a dismissive gesture, "Oh, she's spoiled and shallow, but so are most pureblood women of rank, to be honest. He could do worse; she is a very beautiful girl, and his father-in-law will likely be able to get him a job at the Ministry after he graduates--"

"But Aric wants to be a mediwizard!" Lupin protested, beginning to understand why Aric had been so upset.

"A respectable enough job," Selima said, "but nothing compared to a Ministry position."

"Aric idolized his late uncle," Snape explained, "and Rafe Dietrich--"

"--was a mediwizard," Selima finished. "I see. Well, that sheds some light on matters, but I am not sure how you will be able to help your student, other than to resign him to his fate. His family may have spoiled their children a little, but they will never let him throw away a chance at a Ministry career for some childish sentiment."

"But they loved Rafe, too!" Lupin argued. "That's why they forgave him for becoming a Gryffindor." He turned to Snape and Selima with pleading eyes. "Maybe if you talk to Aric's parents, use some of your pureblood influence--"

Snape shook his head. "They are hardly likely to listen to me, Remus. I am a former Death Eater, and I adopted the son of the man who killed their beloved Rafe."

Selima gave Lupin a look that was almost sympathetic. "I do not think that they will listen to me, either, if they hold a grudge against Severus and Theodore. I am not close to the Dietrich family, and they will not give up an opportunity like this unless I can offer them something of equal value in return. Such a bribe would be substantial, and I am not willing to waste the Snape fortune or the favors I have accumulated on a boy I do not know, and who, from what you say, is an enemy of my grandson."

"He's not really an enemy," Lupin argued. "He's just having trouble coming to terms with his uncle's death--"

"Although it is a pity that Theodore is unmarriageable," Selima sighed, ignoring Lupin. "They might have traded one marriage alliance for another, and Erika would have made a good bride for Theodore. She's a few years older than him, but she's an attractive, intelligent, and practical girl, from what I've heard. Oh well, they are first cousins, and I suppose the blood relationship is a little too close for a proper marriage, although it has been done in the past. Still, one must consider the risks of inbreeding..."

Selima looked a little wistful about opportunities lost, and Lupin and Snape exchanged ironic smiles. Lupin sighed a little to himself; Lady Selima had spent her entire life scheming and negotiating for the good of her clan, first the Bashirs and then the Snapes, working to preserve the Snape reputation and bloodline. He supposed that he shouldn't expect her to be horrified about the idea of an arranged marriage, even if hers had not been an especially happy one.

"Thank you very much for the information, Lady Selima," Lupin said politely. "I really do appreciate it. I'm not sure how we will be able to help Aric, but at least now we know what's bothering him."

"You're welcome, Professor," Selima replied. As Lupin and Snape got ready to leave, she added, "Easter break is coming up soon, isn't it? The four of you must stop by the Manor for dinner."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said obediently, trying to move towards the fireplace quickly but unobtrusively.

"And don't think that I've forgotten about the family photo!" Selima called. "I've made an appointment with the photographer during the break, and I expect you to show up for it!"

Snape scowled at his mother and fled through the Floo as Lupin laughed. "Don't worry, Lady Selima. I'll make sure he shows up."

"Then I'll owl you the date and time," Selima said serenely. "Good day, Professor."

"Good day, Lady Selima."

When Lupin and Snape reported on their talk with Lady Selima to Theodore, he looked relieved to hear that there had been no deaths in the Dietrich family, although he shuddered in horror at the thought of marrying his cousin Erika. "No way! She's a worse bully than Aric, or at least she was when we were small. She even beat him up once, for breaking one of her dolls, although her mother scolded her for behaving in 'an unladylike manner'."

Dylan burst into laughter. "Oh, I would pay good money to see Aric being beaten up by his sister!"

Theodore smiled. "Well, that was over ten years ago. I don't think she's as wild now, though I haven't seen her in a long time."

Lupin smiled a little, too, but he warned his sons, "I don't want you teasing Aric about this or talking to the other Slytherins about it. It'll only make things worse."

"Why should we care about him, when he's done his best to make Theo miserable?" Dylan grumbled, but Theodore nodded at Lupin.

"I don't like Aric, but it's weird...I kind of almost feel sorry for him."

"I'm glad," Lupin said tenderly, and hugged his son. 

"I'd feel awful if I was forced into an arranged marriage," Theodore continued. 

"I'm not sure if it's the marriage so much as his future career that he objects to," Snape said.

"Yeah, Aric doesn't have a girlfriend," Dylan agreed, then grinned mischievously. "Or a boyfriend."

"That you know of," said Lupin.

Everyone turned to stare at him. "Do you know something we don't, Lupin?" Snape asked suspiciously.

Lupin smiled and said, "No, but I'm just pointing out that most people didn't know about Theo and Blaise, either. We don't really know what's going on in Aric's personal life." Lupin had a few suspicions, but decided to keep them to himself. Then his expression turned more serious as he said, "Maybe we should have a talk with him, Severus."

"We?" Snape complained. "You're the one that all the students confide in. I think that you should do it alone; I'll probably just antagonize him. Or maybe you could have Diggory help you. Dietrich seems to have taken a liking to the werewolf, for some reason. Besides, I don't see what good talking to the boy will do. If you really want to help him, shouldn't you be trying to figure out a way to convince his parents to let him become a mediwizard?"

"Yes, but as Lady Selima pointed out, his parents aren't likely to listen to us," Lupin sighed. "I'll try to think of something, of course, but in the meantime, Aric might feel a little better if he has someone to confide in." Theodore frowned, suddenly looking a bit jealous, and Lupin hugged him again and said gently, "I want to help Aric, not just because he's my student, but for your sake, too, because he's your cousin."

"No need to strain yourself on my account," Theodore muttered in a rather Snape-like tone of gruffness, but he relaxed and the jealousy left his face.

Lupin ruffled Theodore's hair affectionately. "I'll talk to Aric tomorrow," he decided. If he singled out Aric in the common room now or in the Great Hall at dinner, it would cause more gossip among the Slytherins, which might make things worse. It would be better to quietly ask him to remain behind after class tomorrow, and if necessary, Lupin could always give him detention. Lupin smiled wryly to himself; he was sure that he would have no difficulty in finding an excuse to give Aric a detention.

And waiting until tomorrow would also give Lupin a chance to enlist Lukas's help. "I think I will ask Lukas to talk to Aric with me," he said. "That was a good suggestion, Severus; thank you. Lukas is one of the few people that Aric likes and respects, although I'm sure he'd never admit it."

"Fine," Snape said, looking relieved. "I'll let the two of you handle it, then." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late. We should head to the Great Hall before dinner starts."

So they headed to the Hall together, and Lupin felt a little better at having taken the first steps to help Aric, although he was still worried about how things were going to work out. He had once observed that Aric had the self-assurance of someone who had been loved and protected by his family, but did his parents love him enough to place their son's happiness over their own ambition? Or would they disown him if he didn't fall into line with their plans? And Aric was a typical pureblood; maybe it would never occur to him to defy his parents' orders, no matter how unhappy they made him.

Snape, seeming to read Lupin's thoughts, leaned over and whispered, "A marriage contract takes time to negotiate, Lupin. We have a little time to figure things out before they pass the point of no return." Lupin reached out and squeezed Snape's hand, giving him a grateful smile; the Potions Master scowled at him in response. "Not that I understand why you're interested in helping that spoiled brat Dietrich," Snape grumbled in a louder voice. "Working at the Ministry is hardly a fate worse than death; there are people who would kill for the opportunity. There are people that HAVE killed for the opportunity."

"True," Lupin said, "but I still think that Aric should have the freedom to choose how he will spend the rest of his life and whom he will spend it with."

"Most of the old pureblood families would consider that to be quite a revolutionary concept, Lupin," Snape quipped sardonically.

"We have already revolutionized--or at least scandalized--the world, my love," Lupin said, and the boys grinned. "And I think that Lukas will revolutionize it even more if he wins his lawsuit and becomes head of the Diggory family." Lupin's expression brightened and his spirits lifted as an idea occurred to him. "You know, maybe Arthur could help us. If it's a Ministry position that the Dietriches want, maybe he might be able to find one for them--not for Aric, but for another member of the family, one who really wants it? Do you think they would be satisfied with that?"

Snape looked surprised by Lupin's suggestion, but he nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly, although they'd probably prefer that Aric take the position since he is the heir of the family. But gaining the goodwill of the Minister might make up for that. It's a huge favor to ask of Weasley, though, especially when he's battling his own Department Heads over the issue of werewolf rights."

"I wouldn't want to make trouble for Arthur," Lupin said, "but surely it couldn't hurt to at least discuss the idea with him."

Snape nodded again. "He might actually gain something, if the Dietriches will agree to back his policies in return for the favor. Most of the old pureblood families oppose his policies of equal rights for non-humans, so it would help to have one on his side, and it might persuade some of the others to follow suit. I'll talk to my mother about which members of the Dietrich family are best qualified for a Ministry position--Aric's sister, perhaps--and about the proper way to approach them regarding it. I know it's a difficult concept for your Gryffindor mind to grasp, but we must be subtle about this. The Dietriches will be suspicious of any overtures we make, and it will be a delicate matter to avoid offending the Tierneys, who probably won't be pleased about having their marriage negotiations ruined."

It was complicated dance of manners, one that Lupin could never have managed without Severus's help. He felt a sudden surge of warmth and tenderness towards his lover, who hated pureblood politics but was willing to endure them to help Lupin help Aric. He loved Severus for being willing to help Aric even though he disliked the boy, even if it was more for Lupin's sake than for Aric's. And he suspected that a small part of Severus was genuinely concerned about the boy, although he would never admit it out loud. He suddenly flung his arms around his lover and cried, "I love you, Severus!"

Just then a crowd of students walked by and giggled at them, and Snape shouted, "Argh! Let go of me, you stupid werewolf!" But Lupin refused to let go, his inner wolf growling happily as his mate struggled in his arms and the students kept laughing.

*** 

Aric was miserable and angry for the rest of the day after receiving the letter. Lupin kept giving him anxious and concerned looks during DADA class, which irritated Aric further. Even Snape, while he did not appear to be concerned, exactly, regarded Aric with a thoughtful frown in Potions class, as if he were trying to figure what Aric was thinking. And when Aric, distracted by that damned letter, botched his potion, Snape didn't call him an imbecile and give him zero marks, but simply told him in a curt voice to start over again. The other students looked as surprised as Aric by this unexpected bit of mercy, but of course no one dared to question Snape about it.

He couldn't even concentrate in his favorite class, Physical Defense. Aric was the best swordsman in the class (other than Master Diggory, of course), but while sparring with the Ron Weasley, he suddenly found himself flat on his back with the tip of Weasley's wooden sword touching his throat. Bested by Weasley, of all people, who had only recently been healed of his injuries and allowed to resume the Defense classes! It was positively mortifying.

"You're dead, Dietrich," Diggory told him. "Or you would be if these swords were real. Weasley, go spar with Finnigan."

"Yes, sir."

Diggory offered Aric a hand up and pulled him to his feet. "I don't know what's troubling you, Aric, but you can't allow yourself to be distracted like that during a fight. It could get you killed."

"They're only practice swords," Aric said sullenly.

"That's not the point," Diggory said sharply. "The point is that I'm supposed to be preparing you to defend yourself in real life. And in real life, an attack can come at any time; you must always be prepared." With inhuman speed, Diggory suddenly snatched up Aric's fallen sword and attacked him in one smooth, swift movement. Aric just barely managed to evade the blow in time.

"That's better," Diggory said approvingly.

"Am I supposed to spend every waking moment on edge, waiting for someone to stab me in the back?" Aric demanded.

There was a strange, feral look in Diggory's yellow-green eyes as he gazed at Aric in silence for a moment. "That is how I have lived for over twenty years," he finally said in quiet voice. "That is how I have managed to stay alive for so long." Then he smiled bitterly. "But you should not find that so unusual, Mr. Dietrich. Is that not how most of the purebloods live? Always on guard, never trusting anyone, always expecting to be stabbed in the back--figuratively, if not literally?"

Aric didn't know how to reply to that. Hadn't his own parents just betrayed him, after all?

Diggory lunged at him again, and again, Aric just barely managed to avoid getting hit. However, the movement left him off-balance, and Diggory kicked out with one leg and swept Aric's feet out from under him. He found himself on the floor again, and saw the wooden blade plunging down towards him. He quickly rolled away, and a few seconds later, the wooden sword hit the floor with such force that it snapped in two. Aric stared at the broken, splintered blade in horror; if he had still been in that spot when it struck...

"Never forget, Mr. Dietrich," Diggory said gravely, "that even wooden blades can kill."

"B-b-but," stuttered Aric, "wh-what if I hadn't been able to dodge that in time?"

Diggory gave him a toothy, wolfish grin. "Oh, then I would have pulled my blow. The question is, do you trust my reflexes?"

Aric knew that his teacher could react more quickly than normal humans, but... "I'd rather trust mine," he said.

Diggory laughed, appearing genuinely amused, his bitterness gone. "A good answer, Mr. Dietrich."

Aric sparred with the werewolf for the rest of the period, being careful to keep his attention focused on what he was doing. Strangely enough, he wasn't angry at his teacher, but rather was grateful to have his worries driven from his mind for at least a little while.

His reprieve was all too short, though. Snape had some errand to run afterschool, so he turned Aric over to Filch for his detention, and Filch had him scrub some graffiti off the walls of the boys' bathrooms. It was unpleasant work, though not as bad as what the Potions Master would probably have assigned him. But what Aric really disliked about the job was that it kept his hands busy but not his mind, giving him plenty of time to brood about the letter from home.

 _What's wrong with me?_ Aric wondered. A year, or even six months ago, he might have welcomed the news. After all, every pureblood coveted a position in the Ministry of Magic, particularly one with the opportunity for advancement. And if his bride-to-be left something to be desired, well, he could do far worse. She was a beautiful girl of good blood; if she was a little wild, well, Aric was no angel himself. Maybe they might actually like each other. And if not, then he could always discreetly seek his pleasures elsewhere, once he sired an heir. He had always known that his parents would arrange a marriage for him when the time came. He hadn't been thrilled about it, but he had accepted it as a fact of life. He had been prepared to do his duty, trusting his parents to pick out a compatible wife for him.

But...he did not want to marry Miranda. The very thought made him sick to his stomach, and he didn't know why. She was quite pretty, and it wasn't as if he actually disliked her; he didn't know her well enough to like or dislike her. Although the carefully-worded description in the letter seemed to hint at an unpleasant personality...

"I thought they'd at least let me meet the girl before they started negotiating the contract," Aric whispered to himself. But with the Tierneys dangling a Ministry position as bait, he supposed that his parents had found it too good an opportunity to pass up. They probably even thought that they were doing it for his own good. Maybe...maybe if he explained to them how much he wanted to be a mediwizard, they would change their minds.

Then he laughed at himself bitterly. Who was he kidding? His parents would never allow him to turn down a Ministry position; they would think he was crazy. They would say that it was nice that he wanted to honor Rafe's memory, but that he wasn't a child anymore and he had to think of his duty to his family. He knew how his parents thought; they would try to placate him by saying that he could make a generous donation to St. Mungo's in Rafe's name once he became established at the Ministry. If he worked his way up to a high enough position (with a correspondingly high salary), they might even name a wing after him. But that wasn't what Aric wanted. He wanted to actually heal people, to help them the way Rafe would have. He wanted the challenge of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion or casting healing spells, of doing actual magic rather than pushing paper and playing politics in some Ministry office. 

But his parents and grandparents would never understand this. They had always indulged Aric and Erika in small ways, buying them whatever clothes or toys they wanted, and they had even paid for Aric's fencing lessons even though they thought it was a waste of time, but they would never give way when it came to the family honor. They would consider it his duty to go through with this marriage alliance, whether he liked his bride or not, whether he wanted the Ministry job or not.

He suddenly wanted to cry, and he blinked hard to keep the tears from falling, his eyes stinging and his vision blurry. It was stupid to cry just because he wasn't going to be a mediwizard; after all, how bad could a Ministry job be? He'd be the envy of all his housemates. Or was it the marriage that made him want to weep? But what did it matter whom he married? Surely Miranda could be no worse than Yvonne or Pansy or any of the other Slytherin girls who might be considered potential brides. It wasn't as if there was someone else that he was in love with...

His mind quickly shied away from that thought. One girl was as good as another, he supposed. No, it was the thought of giving up his future career as a mediwizard that upset him. Maybe it was silly and childish, but he had set his heart on it, and had been working hard preparing for his N.E.W.T.s with that goal in mind. It had made him feel closer to his uncle, to feel as if he was carrying on Rafe's work. And now it was being taken away from him...

"Mr. Dietrich," Filch said, and Aric jumped. "Well, that wall seems to be very clean," Filch said with grudging approval. Aric stared at the wall in front of him; lost in thought, he had kept scrubbing it over and over long after the graffiti was gone, until it was practically sparkling. "I'm glad to see that you take your punishment seriously," Filch continued. "You're dismissed; dinner will start in fifteen minutes."

Aric had no appetite, though. He hurled a few halfhearted insults Theodore's way, but his cousin ignored them, and Aric couldn't seem to summon up the energy to pick a real fight. From the head table, Lupin was still staring at him with that wide-eyed look of concern. Lupin said something to Master Diggory, who also began looking Aric's way, although his expression was harder to read. Aric wondered if Lupin was going to try to get the entire faculty concerned about him. No doubt Lupin would call Aric into his office tomorrow for "a little chat" and ask him, in that oh-so-compassionate voice of his, what was wrong and if there was anything he could do to help. Aric wished that Lupin and the others would all just leave him alone. There was nothing they could do to help him, and he didn't want their pity.

But despite that, he was feeling very sorry for himself by the time dinner was over. His housemates' chatter about trivial things got on his nerves, so he left the common room and sulked in his room. He tried to study, but couldn't concentrate. He didn't finish his homework, but he didn't care. It hardly seemed to matter anymore; he no longer needed to study become a mediwizard, and his future father-in-law would see that he got a job at the Ministry no matter what his grades were. Although he supposed that for appearance's sake, he ought to try for a decent score on his N.E.W.T.s, which shouldn't be that hard. But there was no need to exert himself.

He decided that he might as well go to bed early, but he couldn't sleep, and was still tossing and turning after the rest of the House was in bed. He finally got dressed, grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey he had hidden in the back of his closet, and quietly slipped out of his room. He wanted two things: to get drunk enough to forget about the marriage alliance, and to get away from everyone around him. Even sitting alone in his room, he could feel the presence of his housemates around him like an oppressive fog. 

He snuck out of the dorm and headed for the Astronomy Tower. There were no Astronomy classes tonight, and it was quiet and peaceful out here, with only the stars for company. It was a clear night, and the stars looked beautiful, like handfuls of diamonds carelessly strewn across a black velvet backdrop. The sight eased the pain in his heart just a little.

He had not noticed Draco following him out of the dorm.

*** 

Draco was still in a rotten mood, but Dietrich piqued his curiosity, and like everyone else, he wondered what was in the letter that had upset him so much. It couldn't be a death in the family, because there was no black ribbon on the envelope as there would for a death announcement, and there was no news of it in the Daily Prophet. Aric's family might not be as influential as the Malfoys had been, but they were of high enough stature to rate a full obituary, possibly even a front-page article on a slow news day, and there was none.

Draco had another nightmare about his father in the middle of the night, which was why he was awake to hear the door to Aric's room, which was near his, open and then close with a very quiet click. Draco got up and opened his own door just a crack, and saw Aric tiptoeing down the hallway. He waited a couple of minutes, letting Aric get far enough ahead so that he wouldn't notice Draco following him, but not so far ahead that Draco would lose sight of him. He thought, with dark humor, that perhaps his Death Eater father would have been proud of how stealthily he was following Dietrich. But then again, probably not. Nothing Draco did had ever seemed to impress Lucius Malfoy very much. 

Aric headed for the Astronomy Tower, and Draco slowed down, letting the other boy get further ahead. There was no danger of losing him now, and Draco didn't want Aric to hear his footsteps on the stairs behind him. He wondered if Aric was meeting a girl; the Tower was a popular place for assignations. But no girl appeared to follow Aric, and when Draco cautiously approached the top of the Tower, there was no one waiting for him there, either, and Aric didn't seem to be expecting anyone. Instead he sat down, leaned back against the wall of the Tower, stared up at the sky with a melancholy look on his face, and took a swig from what looked to be a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Dietrich?" Draco said.

Aric jumped up, spun around, and choked on the mouthful of whiskey. He doubled over, coughing and spraying Firewhiskey from his mouth; Draco remained at a distance to avoid getting any on his robes. "Malfoy!" Aric snarled when he was able to speak. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Draco smirked. "Why, I was just about to ask you the same thing, Dietrich."

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Fine," Draco said with a shrug. "I guess you don't mind if I go tell Snape about your little late night excursion."

Aric scowled at him. "What's it going to cost me for you to keep your mouth shut, you little prick?" 

"Language, language," Draco admonished, enjoying himself thoroughly. It was nice to have the advantage over someone for a change; it was almost like old times. "What have you got?"

Aric searched his pockets, but apparently they were empty. He hesitated for a moment, then held out the bottle of Firewhiskey. "This is all I have on me right now. It's good stuff."

Draco frowned at the bottle. "I don't suppose you have a glass on you."

"Oh, for God's sake, Malfoy, how much of a pansy are you?" Aric asked, giving him a disgusted look. "Just drink from the bloody bottle."

"I can still go to Snape, you know," Draco snapped, but his pride was stung. He wiped the lip of the bottle with the corner of his robe. "I just don't want to catch any germs from you. Merlin only knows where your mouth has been."

"Either drink or shut up, Malfoy," Aric said. "And anyway, you'd get in trouble, too, for being out after hours."

"I'm a prefect," Draco said. "I was only following you to see what kind of trouble you were getting into. Snape won't punish me." But he wasn't really sure of that. He was no longer Snape's pet, and the Potions Master wouldn't like being woken up in the middle of the night, or worse, being interrupted in bed with Lupin. 

And he suddenly remembered the time that he had followed Potter and his friends out of the castle one night to get them into trouble. He had reported them to McGonagall, and she had given them detention, but she had also given him detention, too, because he had also broken the rules--as Aric had pointed out. It was probably safer to say nothing. So he took a gulp from the bottle, and true to its name, the liquor felt like fire going down his throat. And suddenly he was the one choking and coughing as Aric laughed his head off.

"Shut up, Dietrich!" Draco wheezed. He was surprised that he could still talk, since it felt like the lining of his throat had been burned away. "Merlin's Beard, are you trying to kill me? This thing must be poisoned!"

Aric took the bottle from Draco and took a long swig from it. He swallowed with no apparent discomfort, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, grinning widely. "What's the matter, Malfoy--a little too strong for you?"

"I am used to drinking fine wines and champagnes at home," Draco said haughtily, and it was only a slight exaggeration. He did have the occasional glass of wine at dinner when he was home at Malfoy Manor. "Not cheap whiskey."

"It's not cheap," Aric said indignantly. "It's very good--and very expensive--Firewhiskey." He took another swig. 

Draco felt a little jealous of how easily the other boy could drink that stuff. It made him look cool and experienced, and made Draco look like a kid getting into his parents' liquor cabinet for the first time in comparison. "Where did you get that, anyway?" he asked in a slightly sulky voice.

"Bought it in Hogsmeade during our last trip," Aric replied casually.

"They sold alcohol to a student?" Draco asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"I'm eighteen now," Aric said with a shrug. "It's perfectly legal. The shopkeeper was still a little leery of selling alcohol to a student in a Hogwarts uniform, but a few extra Galleons made him see things my way." He offered the bottle to Draco again; Draco eyed it dubiously. "Try drinking it a little slower this time," Aric suggested, in an almost friendly tone of voice.

Draco took a cautious sip. It still burned going down and brought tears to his eyes, but it wasn't quite so bad this time. And he felt the warmth slowly beginning to spread from his throat and stomach to the rest of his body. It felt good. He took another sip and said, "It's not so bad, once you get used to it."

"Well, don't hog it," Aric said.

"This is supposed to be my bribe for not squealing on you," Draco complained, but he handed the bottle over. Aric took a swig and then handed it back. Draco noticed that Aric was taking much bigger gulps than he was, and decided to follow suit so as to get his fair share. He took a good, long swig and managed not to cough it back up again. 

"You're getting the hang of it, Malfoy," Aric laughed, but not in a mean way. Feeling a little mellow under the influence of the Firewhiskey, Draco thought to himself that maybe Dietrich wasn't such a bad guy after all, at least once you got a few drinks into him.

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth in an almost companionable way, both of them growing more relaxed and loquacious with each drink. "So why did you come up here, anyway, Dietrich?" Draco asked.

"It's nice up here," Aric replied, taking another drink. "Peaceful. Wanted to get away from it all."

"Get away from what?" Draco asked, taking the bottle from Aric. The whiskey no longer seemed to burn, but flowed down his throat smoothly, filling his body with a kind of warm, pleasant glow.

"From everything," Aric said with an expansive gesture that seemed to take in the whole school. "You lot." Draco supposed that he meant the Slytherins. "The teachers, especially that stupid do-gooding werewolf. My cousin." Aric grabbed the bottle and took another swig. "My parents."

"Your parents?" Draco asked in confusion; his brain seemed to feel a bit fuzzy. "They aren't at Hogwarts."

"No, but they sent me that letter." Aric tilted his head back, pouring more whiskey down his throat.

Draco grabbed the bottle away from him. "Hey, it's my turn!" he objected. He frowned at the bottle. It was half-empty...or maybe half-full, depending on how you looked at it. Well, it was a pretty big bottle, Draco decided. There was still a lot left, which was good. He took one drink, and then another, since Aric had taken two last time. It was only fair, after all. "What was in the letter?" he asked, handing the bottle back. "You seemed pretty upshet...er..." He paused, then enunciated very carefully, "I mean, upset."

Aric took a very big gulp before handing the bottle back to Draco. "They want to arrange a marriage for me," he said gloomily.

"Really?" said Draco. "To who? Er...whom?"

"Miranda Torry...no, Terry...no, uh...Ti...er...ney. Miranda Tierney."

"Oh, right, she's going to Beauxbatons, isn't she?" Draco asked. He took a sip of whiskey.

"Just graduated," Aric said, still sounding gloomy. He grabbed the bottle from Draco and took a long pull from it. "Don't wanna marry her," he said sullenly.

"Why not?" Draco asked. "Saw her at a party a couple years ago. She's pretty hot. Or at least, she was. Dunno what she looks like now."

"Don't wanna get married," Aric sulked, cradling the bottle of whiskey in his arms.

"Why not?" Draco repeated. "There some other girl you wanna marry?"

Aric frowned, thinking over Draco's question. "No," he said slowly. "No other girl I wanna marry."

Draco snatched the bottle away from him and took a drink. "Well then, what's the problem?"

"I don't wanna get married!" Aric shouted.

"Shh, keep your voice down, Dietrich!" Draco hissed. "Do you want the whole bloody school to hear you?"

"I don't wanna get married," Aric whimpered in a softer voice. "I wanna be a mediwizard."

"What does one have to do with the other?" Draco asked, feeling puzzled. 

Aric grabbed the bottle back and took a drink before answering. "Her dad's gonna get me a job at the Ministry after we're engaged."

"But that's great!" Draco said enviously. That was what he had always wanted, a job at the Ministry like his dad.

"Haven't you been listening, Malfoy?" Aric demanded. "I don't WANNA work at the Ministry! I wanna be a mediwizard!"

"Sheesh, all right, calm down!" Draco said, trying to shush him. "Here, have another drink."

"Thanks," Aric said, seeming to forget that it was his bottle in the first place. "You're not so bad, Malfoy." He grinned and slapped Draco on the back.

"Oof!" Draco said. The blow nearly knocked him off-balance, but it seemed to be a friendly gesture rather than an attack. "Thanks," he said, as Aric handed the bottle back to him. "You're not so bad yourself, Dietrich." He took a sip and asked, "Can't you marry this girl and still be a mediwizard?"

"No," Aric said glumly. "Whole point of marrying her is to get the Ministry position. I hate my parents. They don't care what I want." He sniffled a little. "If they did, they'd let me be a mediwizard like Rafe."

Draco didn't know who "Rafe" was supposed to be. The name sounded familiar, but the fuzzy feeling in his brain made it too difficult to recall why. He took another swig of the whiskey as his mind latched onto the one part of Aric's rant that was easy to understand. "I hate mine, too."

"Mine what?" Aric asked, eyes dull and confused.

"Not yours, mine," Draco clarified. "My parents. My dad tried to kill me."

"Yeah, I know," Aric said, pulling the bottle out of Draco's hands and taking a drink. "That sucks."

"And my mum..."

"You hate your mum?"

Draco frowned, confused by the question. "Yes...no...I dunno." He thought of what he had seen by the lake on Valentine's Day, and suddenly a burst of anger cut through the alcohol-induced haze. "I hate the werewolf!" he said fiercely.

"Huh?" Aric asked, puzzled by the sudden change in subject. "You hate Lupin?"

"Not him, the other werewolf! Blethri...I mean, Bleddri..." Draco said, his speech slurring.

"It's Diggory now," Aric reminded him.

"I don' care what his name is! I hate him!"

Aric suddenly seemed to get angry. "Why? What'd he do to you?"

"Stained my family honor!" Draco declared dramatically. "Can't keep his grubby werewolf paws to himself!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

"Gonna kill him," Draco said, staggering to his feet. He was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration. "I'll challenge him to a duel! For the family honor!" 

"What?" cried Aric. "Now? Are you nuts? You'll get detention!"

"Don't care!" Draco said, filled with determination. "Gonna nail his pelt to my wall!"

"No, you won't!" Aric shouted, unexpectedly lunging at and tackling Draco, knocking him to the ground.

"What're you doing, you crazy git?!"

"You're the crazy one!" Aric retorted. "I won't let you hurt him!"

"What's it to you, you werewolf-lover?!"

"Slimy git!"

They rolled on the ground, flailing at each other. Not all of the blows connected, thanks to their alcohol-dulled reflexes, but Draco managed to split open Aric's lower lip, and Aric, more by chance than intent, struck Draco square on the nose.

"Ow!" Draco wailed. "Nod my node again!"

"God, don't be such a baby, Malfoy!" Aric said contemptuously. 

"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME IS GOING ON UP HERE?!" a deep and very familiar voice bellowed.

Draco and Aric looked up to see three teachers standing over them: Professor Sinistra, who frowned down at them disapprovingly; Snape, who looked furious; and Lupin, who seemed to be trying very hard not to laugh.

Draco and Aric exchanged looks. "Uh-oh," Draco said.

"We're in deep shit, aren't we?" Aric asked.

"Very deep," Lupin agreed, trying to hold back a smile, and Snape glared at him.

*** 

Draco was slightly more unsteady on his feet than Aric was, and Lupin carefully helped him descend the stairs of the Astronomy Tower to prevent him from tripping and breaking his neck. As they went down the stairs and headed back to the dungeon, Snape kept up a running lecture: "Professor Sinistra had to come wake me up in the middle of the night...You two are an absolute disgrace to your House...When your mother hears about this, Malfoy..."

Meanwhile, Professor Sinistra was saying something about not being able to sleep and coming to check on the telescopes and finding two drunken idiots on the Tower landing. The boys seemed to be finding it difficult to concentrate.

"Are you two paying attention to me?" Snape demanded. "And stop laughing, Lupin! This is a serious matter!"

"I'm not laughing, Severus!" Lupin protested.

"No, but you look like you're about to burst into laughter at any moment," Sinistra pointed out dryly.

"I'm sorry," Lupin said with a grin. "It's just that it reminds me of the time that Sirius stole a bottle of scotch from his father's liquor cabinet and brought it to school and--"

"Lupin!" Snape shouted. "Can you please try and set a good example for your students instead of egging them on with your Gryffindor idiocy?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said meekly, although the corners of his mouth were still twitching. "You're right; it's a serious matter, and the boys should be punished, but perhaps we should wait until they're sober?"

"I do not coddle my Slytherins, Lupin," Snape said testily. 

"Well, you are the Head of Slytherin," Lupin conceded. "It's your prerogative."

"That's right," Snape said firmly.

"But if I might suggest--"

"I feel sick," Draco mumbled.

"You will feel worse than sick when I get through with you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said darkly.

"No," Draco groaned, "I mean, I _really_ feel sick!" And then he threw up all over Snape's shoes.

Lupin couldn't contain it any longer. He started laughing so hard that he had to lean against the wall for support. Professor Sinistra just sighed and shook her head. Snape's black eyes filled with fury and kept darting back and forth from Draco to Lupin, as if he couldn't decide which one he should kill first.

"Guess Malfoy can't hold his liquor," Aric muttered under his breath. Then he gulped and turned pale as Snape's glare shifted towards him.

"I'm s-sorry, Severus," Lupin laughed, trying to regain control of himself. "I tried to warn you. The same thing happened to James, only it was McGonagall that he threw up on."

"Too bad it wasn't Branwen," Snape said sourly. "She would have killed him on the spot and saved me years of grief."

"As Lady Malfoy is already a widow," Sinistra said in a mild voice, "perhaps you should not also deprive her of her only son, as tempting as that thought may be."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin repeated, trying to look contrite, and cast a cleaning spell to get rid of the mess.

"The Dietriches, though," Sinistra continued, still in that mild, conversational tone, "have two children..."

Snape slowly turned towards Aric, who began to back away, stammering, "N-now, wait a minute..."

Lupin quickly stepped between the two of them. "Now, now," he said soothingly. "You really shouldn't kill Aric, Severus."

"Give me one good reason why not," Snape growled.

"Well, for one thing," Lupin said reasonably, "he's too drunk to really feel anything. It would be too merciful a death. You ought to wait until he's sober and can properly appreciate the fear and pain."

Snape's anger seemed to dissolve, and he patted Lupin on the shoulder. "You know, Remus, I'm beginning to like the way you think. You might have made a good Slytherin after all."

"Thank you, dear."

"Don't call me 'dear,' Lupin."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Aric protested, giving Lupin a wounded look. "I thought you were the softhearted one!"

Lupin grinned and winked at him. "Ah, but I've been a Slytherin's lover for the past four years. I suppose it must be rubbing off on me."

Sinistra coughed politely to gain her colleagues' attention. "Should we send the boys to bed, then, and punish them in the morning, as Remus suggested? It seems to be the most practical thing to do."

"I suppose so," Snape grudgingly agreed.

Sinistra smiled--a rather sinister smile, as befit her name. "Then I'll leave their punishment up to you, Severus, since you are their Head of House."

"Thank you," Snape purred, in a positively evil manner. "I promise that I'll deal with them...appropriately." That one simple word was laden with overtones of menace and filled with the unspoken promise of punishments too horrible to mention, causing Draco and Aric to break into a sweat. Lupin grinned, still looking highly amused. 

Snape and Lupin escorted their two errant students to the dorm and sent them to bed, but not before Snape admonished them to show up in his office first thing in the morning.

*** 

Snape did not leave things to chance, but sent Howlers to Aric and Draco to make sure they woke up on time. Draco woke with a start and jumped out of bed as Snape's voice shouted, "I expect to see you in my office in five minutes, Malfoy!" Then Draco groaned and clutched at his head to keep it from splitting open.

A short time later, he realized that it only felt like someone was hammering on his skull and it hadn't really cracked open, but that didn't make it any less painful. One dubious benefit of the hammering was that it distracted him from his sore nose and the fact that his mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died last night. Then it dawned on him that he now only had four minutes to make it to Snape's office. He quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth, and pulled on his robes, wincing as each movement caused the pounding in his head to increase.

Aric emerged from his room as Draco stepped into the hallway; Draco noted with some satisfaction that Aric looked nearly as bad as Draco felt: he had a black eye, a swollen lip, and was looking a little green around the gills (figuratively speaking). "This is all your fault, Dietrich," Draco accused.

"No one told you to follow me last night," Aric retorted. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

They hurried to Snape's office, but apparently not fast enough, because Snape bellowed, "You're late!" 

Both boys clutched at their heads. "Please don't shout, Professor," Draco whimpered.

"I will do as I damn well please, Malfoy!" Snape shouted, sending another surge of pain through Draco's head. 

Lupin leaned over and whispered to Snape, "Yes, but you want them to be able to understand what you're saying, Severus."

Snape glowered at the boys, but said in a normal voice, "Sit down."

The pounding in Draco's head subsided to a dull throbbing, and he carefully eased himself down into a chair. Aric followed suit, moving as slowly and carefully as Draco did.

Snape lectured them at length about the stupidity of their actions and what a disgrace they were to their House. They mumbled "Yes, Professor" at appropriate intervals, wincing every time Snape lost control of his temper and raised his voice. Behind his back, Lupin gave them amused and sympathetic smiles. By the time Snape was done with his lecture, Draco's head hurt so much that he wished someone would just cut it off. 

"We should wrap this up soon, Severus," Lupin said in a soft, gentle voice, as if deliberately being careful of Draco's headache, and Draco was so grateful to him that he could have kissed the werewolf. "It's almost time for breakfast."

Draco groaned; the very thought of food made him sick, and probably the only thing that stopped him from throwing up was the fact that there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up. 

Lupin grinned and Snape balefully told him, "If he throws up in here, you're cleaning it up, Lupin."  Draco took it all back; the werewolf was as evil as Snape. He was like a Slytherin in Gryffindor colors. He wondered if the Gryffindors realized that they'd had a traitor in their ranks all these years.

But maybe he still had a little Gryffindor softness left in him, because he said, "Perhaps we should give them a hangover potion, Severus?"

Any faint spark of hope Draco felt was quickly extinguished when Snape smiled maliciously. "No," the Potions Master declared heartlessly. "No hangover potion for these two, and they will attend all their classes today as usual." The two boys groaned in unison. Snape sighed regretfully, "It's a pity that they don't have Physical Defense class today."

Draco was very, very grateful for that. Trying to fight with a hangover would probably be sheer torture.

"Although," Snape said speculatively, "maybe I could send them to Diggory for their detention." Draco and Aric groaned again.

"Actually," Lupin said cheerfully, "I was thinking of asking Lukas to help us with their detention." His expression turned serious and he gave the two boys a thoughtful look. "Yes, I think that they should serve their detention together at the clinic."

Snape looked disappointed. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind, Lupin. Besides, it hasn't proven to be much of a deterrent for Dietrich."

"Yes, I realize that it would be much more fun for you to let Lukas beat them up--er, I mean, spar with them," Lupin said placatingly, "but they're shorthanded at the clinic and Haruko is worried that Takeshi is working too hard. Draco and Aric could at least help him brew his healing potions and the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Mr. Kimura was a good Potions student," Snape said reluctantly. "Very well, you can let these two miscreants help him out for a few days, I suppose."

The name "Kimura" evoked a vague recollection of a quiet, unassuming Ravenclaw boy that Draco had never taken much notice of. Draco couldn't even remember the boy's face, but his potion-brewing skills must have been quite impressive for Snape to actually praise him. If Draco's head hadn't hurt so much, he would probably have felt jealous, but right now, it just didn't seem to be worth the effort.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said. "I'll take them down to the clinic after classes today, and I'll ask Lukas to come along and help me supervise them."

That comment got Draco's attention as he suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be mad at Diggory. He jerked his head up, ignoring the sudden stab of pain, and shouted, "I'm not working with that werewolf!"

Snape leaned forward, a dangerous look in his black eyes, and snapped, "You will do whatever I tell you to do, Mr. Malfoy!"

"I will not," Draco said through gritted teeth. "I don't care if you expel me."

"Don't tempt me, Malfoy!" Snape snarled.

"What is your problem with Master Diggory, Malfoy?" Aric demanded. "You were saying something last night about him staining your family honor."

"Shut up, Dietrich!" 

"Make me, Malfoy!"

Snape opened his mouth to shout, but Lupin quickly stepped forward and said sternly, "You two are in quite enough trouble as it is, don't you think? Do you want to be in detention till you graduate?" The boys subsided into sullen silence, slouching down in their chairs. Lupin hesitated, then said, "Go to breakfast, Aric. I'll talk to you later." Aric got up and left the office, and Draco rose to follow him, but Lupin firmly grasped his shoulder to stop him. "Not you, Draco. I want to talk to you."

Draco wrenched free from Lupin, even though the effort started up the pounding in his head again. "I have nothing to say to you!"

"Why are you angry at Lukas?" Lupin persisted. "Up until recently, he was one of your favorite teachers."

"I never liked him that much," Draco snapped, "and anyway, it's none of your business!"

Snape's eyes narrowed in thought, and he said nothing, just leaned back and traced his lips with one finger as he watched Lupin circle around Draco like a wolf stalking its prey.

"That fight with Ron in Physical Defense class," Lupin continued. "It wasn't about Ron at all, was it? It was about Lukas."

Draco nervously tried to back away from Lupin, but the werewolf kept circling around him, cutting off his avenue of escape. "You have been behaving strangely ever since your last trip to Hogsmeade, Draco," Snape said from behind his desk. "Everyone thought that you had a fight with Miss Avery, but that's not true, is it? Something happened between you and Diggory."

"That's why Serafina wouldn't talk about the incident," Lupin said, picking up where Snape left off. "She said some things I didn't understand that are beginning to make sense now. She said that you were not mad at her but at someone else, and she wouldn't tell us who that someone else was. I thought at the time that she was protecting your privacy, but she was also protecting Lukas's, wasn't she?"

"If you think you're so smart, go ask the werewolf!" Draco shouted, a sudden sense of panic making his heart beat faster, distracting him from his pounding headache. Why was he so scared about them finding out the truth? It wasn't like Lupin and Snape would look down on Narcissa for sleeping with a werewolf. But he was suddenly terrified at the thought of his secret being revealed.

Lupin and Snape exchanged a knowing look. "Perhaps I will," Snape said, his voice hardening, but his anger was not directed towards Draco this time. "I think that Master Diggory has not been completely forthcoming with us, and if so, I shall have words with him."

"Draco," Lupin said in a very gentle voice, "please tell us why you're angry at Lukas. You don't have to hide it any longer." Draco shook his head frantically. 

"Well then," Snape said, "let me take a guess. Does it have something to do with Narcissa?"

The expression on Draco's face must have given him away, because Snape and Lupin exchanged another look and nodded at each other. "I'm a fool for not seeing it sooner," Snape said, looking a little annoyed, "but I never pay much attention to the gossip of the Slytherin girls. My mother would have known better. But I did recently overhear some of them speculating about whether Diggory had a girlfriend; they were talking about hearing some kind of rumor that he was meeting a woman after his court dates in London. I didn't give it much thought at the time; I don't care about Diggory's lovelife, but..."

"Is Lukas seeing Narcissa?" Lupin asked gently. "Is that why you're so mad at him?"

Draco should deny it, tell them that they were crazy, but he found himself whispering, "How did you guess?" He felt strangely relieved to finally have it out in the open, as if a burden had been lifted from him.

Lupin and Snape smiled at each other, still looking concerned, but also a little amused. "Er...during the Yule Ball," Lupin said, "when Severus was chasing couples out of the rose bushes..."

"I stumbled across one couple who were not students," Snape finished.

"It was going on as far back as that?!" Draco exclaimed, horrified by the sudden image that sprung up in his head of his mother and Diggory making out in the rose bushes. He shook his head to try to shake the image out of his mind, then groaned and clutched at his skull. He'd almost forgotten about his hangover, but it suddenly and unequivocally reasserted its presence.

"They claimed that it was a brief moment of insanity, and they both seemed horrified by what they'd done," Lupin said, still smiling. "I never thought that anything more would come of it, although I thought it was a pity that they were letting their prejudices ruin what might be a perfectly good relationship."

"My mother?" Draco cried in outrage. "And the werewolf? Form a 'good relationship'?!"

"Why not?" Lupin asked lightly. "Lukas is a good man. He's a little gruff and ill-tempered, of course, but he's also brave and loyal and compassionate." He grinned at Snape. "Not unlike someone else I know."

"Please don't compare me to the werewolf, Lupin," Snape said, sounding insulted. Only he actually looked more embarrassed than insulted. 

"I knew you wouldn't understand," Draco said sulkily.

"Understand what, Draco?" Lupin asked quietly. "That a werewolf is not a fit mate for a pureblood?"

Draco felt his face flush with shame. "I'm not...that is...I didn't mean you..."

"It's okay, Draco," Lupin said kindly. "I'm not angry. It must be hard for you to see your mother dating a man who isn't your father, whether he's a pureblood or a werewolf."

"They aren't dating!" Draco said, feeling the resentment returning. "They are--they were--sneaking around having an affair. Only 'affair' is too nice a word for it--meeting in a cheap room at an inn, even shagging on the shore of the lake near Hogsmeade, out in the open where anybody could have seen them! It doesn't surprise me to learn that the Professor caught them in the rose bushes together!"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "You saw your mother and Diggory...er..."

Draco blushed again. "Well, they did cast an obscurement spell," he admitted. "And we left before they started...uh...you know. But I saw enough."  "You and Serafina followed Lukas out of Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day, and saw him meet Narcissa by the lake," Lupin said. He seemed to be reasoning things out on his own rather than asking Draco a question, but Draco nodded anyway.

Lupin reached out and took Draco's hands in his. "Oh, Draco," he said, his blue eyes filled with empathy and concern, "why have you been suffering alone all this time? Why didn't you come talk to us about this?"

To his horror, Draco felt his eyes fill with tears. "Because...because you've got Theo and Dylan now," he found himself blurting out. "You don't need to waste your time listening to me whine." Draco wanted to pull away and run out of the room before he humiliated himself by bursting into tears. But Lupin grasped his hands more tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough so that he couldn't easily break Lupin's grip. Right; he had a werewolf's superior strength, of course. Lupin's gentle demeanor tended to make you forget that.

There was now guilt as well as concern in Lupin's eyes. "Draco," he said softly, "just because Theo and Dylan are a part of our family now doesn't mean that we don't care about you. We'll always have time to listen to you."

"Yeah, well, it seems like you've been pretty busy lately," Draco said in a surly voice, more to try and cover up the tears that kept threatening to spill than because he was angry at Lupin. He knew he wasn't really being fair; Lupin had tried to talk to him a couple of times, and Draco had brushed him off. Still, a small, spiteful part of him wanted to hurt the werewolf.

And Lupin did look hurt. Snape frowned, looking both angry and troubled. Although Snape frequently insulted Lupin in public, he tended to take umbrage when anyone else did it. "Malfoy--" Snape started to say in a stern voice.

But Lupin interrupted him. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said. "There's been a lot going on recently, and we have been busy. But I promise that if you ever tell us that you need help, or even just someone to talk to, we will make time for you from now on."  "I don't need your pity," Draco mumbled, looking down to avoid Lupin's compassionate gaze.

"It's not pity, Draco," Lupin protested. "We care about you--"

"Sure, sure, you care about all your students," Draco said dismissively, trying to affect an air of indifference. "Look, I don't need you to feel sorry for me. I'm a Slytherin; I can take care of myself. It's too bad that my dad screwed up everything for our family and cost us our status, but that's life. He made a big gamble, throwing in his lot with the Dark Lord, and he lost. It'll be tough, but I can regroup, work my way up through the ranks again."

"Draco--" Lupin said.

Draco turned towards Snape. "I'm not stupid," he said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "I know you only treated me like your favorite because you had to stay on my father's good side."

"Draco," Snape said hesitantly, coming around from behind the desk.

"And now he's dead," Draco continued, "so you don't need to bother pretending that things are still the same now. Really, Professor I understand."

"No," Lupin said in a quiet but firm voice, "you don't understand. Severus wasn't just looking after you to stay on Lucius's good side."

"Yeah, I know," Draco said bitterly. "He wanted to keep me from joining the Death Eaters. Well, no fear of that now, so you can stop worrying."

"Draco," Lupin said, his voice still kind but beginning to sound a little angry as well, "you don't understand how much Severus cares about you."

"Lupin, don't," Snape said, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed. 

Lupin, of course, ignored him. "It wasn't just about political expediency," Lupin persisted. "You don't know how many sleepless nights he spent agonizing over whether he could save you."  "Lupin!" Snape snapped.

Lupin stared directly into Draco's eyes. "He wasn't just trying to keep the ranks of the Death Eaters from growing, Draco. He wanted to keep you from making the same mistakes that he and Dylan's father did. He didn't want to have to face you in battle someday and kill you, or watch you be killed or captured by the Order. He didn't want you to have to live with the guilt of becoming a murderer in the Dark Lord's name. He was putting his life at risk trying to save you, Draco. If you or your father had suspected something, if word had got back to Voldemort that Severus was a traitor, he would have been killed. And his death would not have been a quick and easy one; you know what the Dark Lord was like. 

"The easiest and safest course of action would have been to never let his mask slip, to always play the part of the loyal Death Eater, to encourage you and the other Slytherins to become Death Eaters, too. But he tried his best to make you think, to make you doubt. He tried to show in subtle ways that he was not like the other Death Eaters. There were times when some of the other Order members got angry with him, saying that he was risking the outcome of the war on the lives of a few children--children who were probably already a lost cause. But he refused to let you be sacrificed for the greater good. We swore to each other that we would not let Voldemort have any of you, that we would save you all--you and Theo and Dylan and Sera and Vincent and Gregory."  Draco was struck speechless, and Lupin smiled tenderly. "Never doubt that we both love you, Draco."

Draco was filled with a combination of joy and grief. He knew now that Lupin and Snape really did care about him, but the knowledge was bittersweet. "Not as much as you love Theo and Dylan," he said, and burst into tears.

"Oh, Draco," Lupin said sadly, and held him while he wept, as if he were a little boy. Draco couldn't remember his father ever holding him that way; it had always been Narcissa who held and cuddled and comforted him as a child. Lucius had frowned upon most displays of emotion as distasteful and showing a lack of control. 

In spite of that, Draco whispered, "I miss my dad," as he wept in Lupin's arms. And finally he realized that it wasn't really Snape and Lupin that he was mad at. Even if he became Snape's pet again, favored over all the other students, it would still not be enough. Because it was his father's love and approval that he really wanted, not Snape's and Lupin's, although in a way, he did. But no matter how much they loved him, they would never be able to replace his father in his heart. He was a little jealous of Theo and Dylan because Snape loved them best, but mostly he was jealous of them for having a father when he didn't.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Draco wept, and Lupin murmured, "Shh, it's all right, Draco." Snape hovered over them nervously, not touching Draco, but with his flowing black robes, his presence was like a shadow hanging over them. It should have been intimidating, but instead, Draco found it comforting.

After what seemed like hours, Draco finally stopped crying, not so much because he had stopped feeling miserable, but because his eyes and nose were sore and he didn't seem to have any tears left in his body. Lupin loosened his hold on Draco, who pulled away, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robe. Snape fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Draco, still looking uncomfortable. Draco wiped his face and blew his nose, then automatically started to hand the handkerchief back to Snape. The Potions Master eyed the sodden little bundle of cloth dubiously and said, "Keep it, Malfoy."

Lupin giggled and Draco managed a faint smile. Snape cleared his throat and said gruffly, "I am sorry, Draco, that we did not realize how troubled you were."  Draco stared at him in surprise; was Snape actually apologizing to him, and after the way he'd behaved? He flushed and looked down at his feet, mumbling, "It's not your job to worry about me."

"Actually, Draco, it is," Snape said coolly, "since I am your Head of House."

"We don't worry about you just because it's our job, Draco," Lupin said earnestly. "We worry about you because we care about you."

"We do want to help you, Draco," Snape said, then added in a slightly sarcastic voice, "although it would help us somewhat if you would tell us when something is wrong."

"Severus!" Lupin said, turning to glare at Snape.

"No, the Professor is right," Draco said, smiling a little. "I shouldn't expect you to read my mind." He paused, thinking of certain rumors he'd heard about Snape. "Er...should I?"

Snape grinned, the evil Potions Master grin that all the students were familiar with. "I am not normally in the habit of practicing Legilimency on my students or dosing them with Truth Potion. Sadly, the Headmaster frowns upon that sort of thing for some reason."

Draco noticed that he said that he was "not normally in the habit" of doing such things, not that he never did them at all. He was enough of a Slytherin to know that there was a distinct difference between the two, and regarded his teacher with a look of trepidation.

Snape looked more comfortable now, perhaps because he was on familiar ground, terrorizing a student. "And don't think that you'll be getting off easy, Mr. Malfoy," he warned. "Regardless of the reasons, you broke the rules and made a spectacle of yourself, and you will be punished. I'll indulge Lupin and let you and Mr. Dietrich serve part of your detention at the clinic, but don't think that you'll be getting off with a few hours of potion-brewing."

"Yes, sir," Draco said in a resigned voice. He should've known that the Potions Master's sympathy was limited. But in a weird way, he preferred the old, familiar Snape to the nicer one. It made him feel better, as if everything was still the same, even though it wasn't. "But...sir? Please don't make me serve my detention with Diggory--"

"Master Diggory," Snape corrected.

"With Master Diggory," Draco said meekly. "It would be rather awkward under the circumstances, don't you think?"

Snape frowned, but did not reject his request outright; he seemed to be thinking it over. Lupin said gently, "It is awkward, but you should take some time to get to know Lukas a little better. If he and your mother are going to be seeing each other--"

"They're not seeing each other anymore," Draco said flatly. "I confronted him, and he promised not to see her anymore. It's for her own good; he was just playing around with her, and she would be ostracized if anyone found out that she was sleeping with a werewolf." He stared at Lupin and Snape defiantly, knowing that he was indirectly insulting them both with his comments. His stomach felt like it was tying itself into a knot, his insides churning in a way that had nothing to do with his hangover. But he refused to back down, even if it made Snape and Lupin hate him.

"Draco, can't you please give Lukas a chance?" Lupin pleaded, but Snape shook his head slightly, and Lupin fell silent.

"You do not have a choice about how you will serve your detention or whom you will serve it with," Snape said sternly. "That is why it is called a punishment."

"Yes, sir," Draco said. He wasn't happy about it, but he was relieved that Snape didn't seem to be angry--at least, no angrier than he normally was with a misbehaving student.

"You will be suspended from Quidditch practice for another two weeks," Snape said, scowling at Draco. "Rather inconvenient timing, Mr. Malfoy, since the Headmaster has decided to let the Quidditch matches resume."

"Yes, sir," Draco said glumly. He wondered if Snape was going to have Dylan replace him as Captain and Seeker, temporarily at least, and possibly permanently.

"However," Snape continued, "it should not prove to be too much of a problem, since I have asked the Headmaster to move Slytherin's remaining matches to the end of the season. Since the attacks at the matches have always been against Slytherin, it seemed prudent to wait. Perhaps by then the Aurors will have figured out who was behind them."

"Yes, sir," Draco said with a sigh of relief.

"Go to breakfast, Mr. Malfoy," Snape ordered.

"Yes, sir," Draco said obediently, although the thought of eating anything was very unappealing at the moment.

Lupin smiled at him sympathetically, seeming to guess at his thoughts. "You should at least have a little tea, even if you can't eat anything, Draco. It might help settle your stomach, and you should...ah...replace the fluids that you've lost."

The fluids he'd lost by crying his eyes out and throwing up, Lupin was too polite to say. Draco nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?" Snape called out.

"Yes, sir?"

"You may not have a father, but you do have a mother who loves you and would risk her life for you. Don't forget that."

Snape's gaze was not angry, but steady and penetrating. His black eyes seemed to see deeper into Draco's soul than he was comfortable with, and he hastily said, "Yes, sir," and fled the room. Snape did not stop him.

*** 

"Severus, don't you think that we should talk to Draco about Lukas?" Lupin asked after Draco had gone.

Snape shook his head. "I know you'd like everyone to live happily ever after, Lupin, but it's too soon to push a new stepfather on Draco. He clearly didn't react well to finding them together; give him some time to adjust."

"It will be hard," Lupin said quietly. "He really loved Lucius, even if Lucius didn't deserve it. He wanted so badly to please his father. I know that he also resented Lucius, but--" 

"In some ways, that only makes it harder for him to let go," Snape finished. 

Lupin smiled sadly, not just for Draco, but also for Severus, who had never been able to resolve things with his father, either.

"Damn that werewolf," Snape said irritably, and it was obvious that he wasn't talking about Lupin. "If he'd said something to us, we could have stepped in and tried to help Draco before things got to this point." He scowled. "Then we'd only have had one drunken idiot up on the Astronomy Tower."

Lupin couldn't help but laugh in spite of his concern for Draco and Aric. "I don't think that Lukas likes to discuss his lovelife with other people."

Snape, however, did not find things in the least amusing. "He can sleep with whomever he wants, but if it affects one of my students, it becomes my business. He should have told us when Draco found out, and he most certainly should have told us what was behind Draco's attack on Weasley."

"Let me talk to him, Severus," Lupin said, deciding that it would probably be safer for everyone involved not to let the two alpha males butt heads.

"Fine," Snape growled, "but if he pulls another stunt like this again, I'm poisoning his Wolfsbane Potion."

"Not turning him into a toad or blasting him into a pile of ash?" Lupin joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Do I look stupid enough to confront a werewolf directly, Lupin?" Snape demanded, sounding insulted. 

"No, love," Lupin said, kissing him lightly on the mouth. "Not unless the werewolf is me."

"Well, Diggory's a lot more dangerous than you are," Snape retorted. Then he grinned slyly. "Although you might want to check the potion before you drink it next month."

Lupin kissed him again. "I'm not afraid of you, Sev."

"That's because you're a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors are too stupid to be afraid when they should be," Snape said, but he kissed Lupin back, so Lupin decided to be generous and let him have the last word.

*** 

Breakfast had already started by the time Lupin and Snape made it to the Great Hall. Draco and Aric both were subdued and looked...well, like two boys suffering a hangover, actually. James and Sirius and Peter had looked much the same after their night of drinking back in fourth year, minus the cuts and bruises, of course. Lupin had been with them, but as he had not liked the taste of the liquor, he had not drunk as much as the others, and besides, his monthly transformations had made him reluctant to willingly lose control of himself. But to avoid being called a spoilsport, he had pretended to drink from the bottle as they passed it around, and soon his friends had been too drunk to notice that he wasn't really drinking. He had still received detention along with the other three, though. The memory brought a smile to his face now, although it hadn't been very funny at the time. He still remembered McGonagall frowning at him and saying quietly, "I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Lupin," which had been worse than being yelled at.

Lupin sighed a little as he remembered less pleasant times at Hogwarts--all the times that his friends had played pranks on Severus. He had been surprised when Dumbledore had made him a prefect in fifth year; the drinking incident should have proven that he was not much good at keeping his friends out of trouble.

Well, at least Sirius had matured, Lupin consoled himself. Branwen and McGonagall were talking to each other across the table, and from the way Branwen was laughing and McGonagall was sighing and rolling her eyes, they were probably discussing the Marauders. McGonagall noticed Lupin watching them, and gave him an ironic smile, confirming his suspicions.

Lukas seemed a little nervous, probably because Snape kept giving him baleful looks, and he left the table with unusual haste. But Lupin hurried after him with the determination of a wolf on the hunt. "Lukas! I need to talk to you!"

"We'll be late for class," Lukas said, not looking back.

"I know about you and Narcissa!" Lupin cried.

Lukas stopped in his tracks and swiveled around, his face pale. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed, then grabbed Lupin and dragged him down a little-used side corridor, away from the halls that the students and teachers usually traversed on their way to class. "How did you find out?" he growled.

"How do you think?" Lupin retorted. "Draco let it slip to us this morning. Did you really think he would be able to keep such a secret to himself forever? Why didn't you tell us what happened, Lukas?"

"Because it's none of your business, Lupin!" Lukas snapped.

"Severus considers it very much his business when one of his Slytherins is affected," Lupin said firmly. "He was very upset that you have not been honest with us, and you're lucky that it's me confronting you right now instead of him."

Lukas looked defensive, but also a little guilty. "I know that Draco was angry when he found out, but I thought that he'd be all right once I broke it off with Narcissa."

Lupin was beginning to get a little angry himself, so it was probably a good thing that Severus wasn't here, considering his lover's temper. "Lukas, Draco beat Ron badly enough to put him in the hospital wing, he's alienated all his friends, and last night he went out and got drunk and got into a fight with Aric. Does that sound to you like he's 'all right'?"

"No," mumbled Lukas, hanging his head. 

"I can understand that you didn't want word getting around the school about your affair, but surely you could at least have trusted Severus and me," Lupin said. "We're your friends, and Severus is Draco's Head of House. We could have helped him through this."

Lukas shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't take the chance that you might tell Narcissa what happened."

"Well, of course we would talk to her!" Lupin said. "Draco is her son, after all, and--wait a minute. Narcissa doesn't know about any of this?"

"I thought Draco told you what happened," Lukas said, looking a little confused.

"He told us that he saw you by the lake with Narcissa and that's why he's been so upset lately, but he didn't give us all the details," Lupin replied. 

"I promised to break it off with Narcissa if he didn't tell her that he knew about us," Lukas said. "That was the bargain we made."

"How could you make such a bargain?" Lupin demanded. "She's his mother, she has the right to know--"  "No!" shouted Lukas. "She doesn't need to know! Things are already strained enough between them as it is, with her having killed his father."

"But--" Lupin protested.

"You can't tell her anything about this, Remus," Lukas said urgently. "I mean it! Draco will get over this in time. He might hate me for the rest of his life, but as long as it keeps him from turning against Narcissa, I can live with it. Losing her son would destroy her."

"It's tearing Draco apart!" Lupin argued.

"But you and Severus can help him with that now," Lukas pointed out. "You're right, I should have told you. I'm sorry. If Narcissa finds out that Draco knows about us, she'll only feel guilty and ashamed. What good will that do?"

"How do you think she must feel now," Lupin shot back, "not knowing why you've broken up with her? What excuse did you give her? Or did you bother to tell her anything at all?"

Lukas sneered at him. "There was nothing more than sex between us, Lupin; it's no big deal. I told her the truth, that we should stop seeing each other before someone found out and her precious pureblood reputation got besmirched."

"Don't give me that, Lukas," Lupin said, looking his friend directly in the eyes. "You don't go through such lengths to protect someone you don't care about. If there was nothing more than sex between you, if you despised her as much as you pretend to, you wouldn't care about her feelings. You wouldn't care if Draco turned against her. I heard you howl during the full moon, Lukas. You were mourning the loss of your mate."

"Then you should know better than to get between a wolf and its mate, Lupin," Lukas growled.

"You're doing the exact same thing that Severus did years ago, and it's wrong!" Lupin said angrily. "Severus loved me, but he pretended that he hated me in order to protect me. He knew that I would be in danger if the Death Eaters knew that I was his lover, so he pushed me away from him. But he didn't have the right to make that decision for me. It should have been my choice to take the risk or not. And I would have taken any risk to be with him! You are doing the same thing to Narcissa, treating her as if she were a child or an incompetent." 

"It would kill her if she lost Draco!" Lukas insisted.

"Draco and Narcissa are stronger than you think," Lupin argued. "They'll work through this together. Draco might get angry at her, but he loves his mother too much to turn against her."

"I can't take that risk," Lukas said adamantly.

"If Narcissa agrees that you should end your relationship, fine, but it's not your right to make that decision alone!" Lupin shouted. While he was upset about the way Lukas was treating Narcissa, he also knew that his own feelings about himself and Severus were fueling his anger. "Please don't make the same mistakes that Severus and I did. Do you really want to look back with regret twenty years from now and see all the time you wasted, all the years you could have spent together?"

Lukas lost control of himself and lunged forward, grabbing Lupin by the front of his robes and pushing him up against the wall. He bared his teeth and snarled, "She is _my_ mate and you will not interfere, Lupin! If you tell Narcissa about any of this, I swear by all the gods I will kill you!"

His yellow-green eyes were filled with rage, more animal than human at the moment. Lupin could feel Lukas's breath hot on his face, could see his exposed fangs, much smaller and shorter in his human form than his wolf form, of course, but Lupin had no doubt that Lukas could and would tear his throat out if he thought Lupin was a threat to his mate. Lukas played the pureblood game well, and was able to look and act the part of a pureblood Lord, as he had proven during the course of his trial. 

But now Lupin was forcibly reminded that it was only a thin veneer covering his true wolfish nature. For over twenty years, Lukas had been more wolf than human, and Lupin had nearly forgotten that. He was suddenly acutely aware that his life was in danger, threatened by other werewolf's instinct to protect his mate. Of course, if Lukas killed Lupin, Severus would probably kill him in turn, but Lupin would still be dead. And Lukas was not thinking logically enough to foresee that future threat. Even if he could, that still might not stop him, as overwhelmed as he was by his inner wolf at present.

Lupin felt his own inner wolf responding to the threat; it wanted to expose its throat, signaling submission to the stronger wolf. But he retained enough of his humanity to fight that urge, feeling like it would somehow be a betrayal of Severus. The act of submission had become an intimate part of their lovemaking, and perhaps it was silly, but he would feel almost as if he were cheating on Severus if he submitted to someone else. It didn't matter that there was nothing sexual going on between himself and Lukas, or that Severus would never know about it if Lupin didn't tell him; Lupin would know, and deep in his heart he would feel guilty.

So he did not tilt his head back, although his sense of self-preservation was screaming at him to. But he did allow himself to whimper and whine, giving in to the wolf's fear without any shame.

That was enough to make Lukas draw back a little, and although he was still breathing heavily, that glow of rage in his eyes seemed to dim just a little. "I promise I won't say anything to Narcissa," Lupin whispered.

Lukas relaxed, loosening his grasp on Lupin's robes, and suddenly he was human again. Well, almost. "Remember your promise, Lupin," he growled. "And remember what I'll do to you if you break it." Then he turned and stalked off without waiting for Lupin to reply.

Lupin remained there, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath, waiting for the fear to subside and his racing heartbeat to resume a normal pace. Finally, although his legs still felt a bit wobbly, he pushed himself away from the wall and headed to class.

Snape stopped by between classes to see him. "How did your talk with Diggory go?" he asked.

Lupin had decided not to tell him about Lukas's threat, because his lover was as insanely protective as any werewolf, and he was afraid that Severus really might poison Lukas as he had threatened. In fact, if Severus lost his temper, Lupin didn't trust him not to attack Lukas immediately, no matter what he said about it not being safe to directly confront a werewolf.

So Lupin behaved like any good Slytherin would, and told the literal truth without revealing what he wanted to hide. "Lukas apologized for not confiding in us. He was afraid we might tell Narcissa, and he wants to shield her from Draco's anger."

"She doesn't know?" Snape asked in surprise.

"No, and he very adamantly insists that she not be told," Lupin replied. "He broke up with Narcissa, although he didn't tell her why, in order to avoid coming between her and Draco. He says it will destroy her if she loses her son."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "He sounds very protective. This wasn't just some casual fling, then."

Lupin shook his head. "No, his wolf has recognized Narcissa as its mate. He loves her, and he's stubbornly determined to protect her."

Snape smiled wryly. "I remember how well it went over when I tried to protect you."

Lupin sighed. "I told him that he was making a mistake, but he refused to listen."

"Should we tell Narcissa?" Snape asked.

"I think it might do more harm than good right now," Lupin said carefully. "Let's try to work on Draco first. If we can ease his hostility towards Lukas slightly, then maybe Lukas will reconsider."

"Good luck," Snape said skeptically. "Are you really sure it's a good idea to force Draco to serve his detention with Diggory?"

"Yes, I think if they're forced to spend some time together--oh, dammit. I never got a chance to ask Lukas about the detention." Of course, Lukas had not been in a particularly receptive mood at the time. "Well, I'll ask him later," Lupin sighed, resigning himself to cornering the wolf in his den, so to speak.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Lupin," Lukas said when Lupin caught him in his classroom as he was about to leave for lunch; he seemed to have calmed down considerably. "You can put the kids to work at the clinic if you want, but I don't see why I have to be there."

"You're a good influence on Aric," Lupin cajoled. "He respects you, and he's going through a difficult time right now." He explained about the marriage alliance.

"All right, but why send Malfoy along?" Lukas asked. "You know he hates me."

"Well, for one thing, I thought if he and Aric spent some time together they might become friends. They were drinking together last night, after all."

"Didn't they wind up brawling?" Lukas asked skeptically.

"Well, when I was in school, it seemed that drinking and brawling together proved to be a bonding experience for some of my housemates," Lupin said optimistically. "And if nothing else, they can commiserate together about their detention."

"Ah yes," Lukas said, smiling a little. "Nothing like a mutual enemy to bring people together, and Snape fills that role nicely."

"And for another thing," Lupin continued, "I think it might help Draco to spend some time with you, to see you in a different setting."

Lukas snorted. "I doubt that seeing me at the clinic will suddenly turn me into a more appealing potential stepfather. I warned you, Lupin, do not meddle in my life."

"I've agreed to keep your secret," Lupin said stubbornly. "You can do this one favor for me in return."

"Are you blackmailing me, Lupin?" Lukas asked, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"I am asking you for a favor, as a friend, to help a student," Lupin replied, standing his ground. "Draco's already been told that he will serve his detention at the clinic with Aric, accompanied by you and me. He isn't happy about it, but he's accepted it. It will lessen my authority and Severus's if you back out now. And besides, you can't avoid him completely, Lukas. You still have to see each other during class, after all."

"Oh, very well," Lukas agreed grudgingly. "But next time ask my permission before you rope me into these things."

Lupin smiled with relief. "Thank you, Lukas. Oh, and by the way--Draco and Aric were brawling over you, you know."

"What?"

"We could hear them shouting as we came up the stairs. I didn't catch all of it, but it seemed like Draco was threatening to attack you, to defend his mother's honor, I assume, and Aric was trying to stop him." Lupin grinned. "He seemed quite protective of you."

"Idiot brats," Lukas said, rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up a little. "I don't need Aric to defend me; I could take Malfoy with one hand tied behind my back. With no use of magic."

"If I didn't know that you were perfectly capable of doing exactly that, I would say that you were being cocky, Lukas," Lupin said, glad that things seemed to have returned to normal between them.

"I'm just stating a fact, Lupin," Lukas retorted.

They headed to the Great Hall together, and after a short silence, Lukas said hesitantly, "Er...Remus?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about what happened this morning," the werewolf leader said awkwardly. "But I meant what I said."

"I understand," Lupin replied. "I am a wolf, too. I would kill to protect my mate and cubs, if necessary. But I still think that you've made the wrong choice. I think you will regret it later."

"I have many regrets in my life, Lupin," Lukas said with a humorless smile. "What's one more?"

"You love her," Lupin said softly.

Lukas bristled, and it seemed for a moment that he would try to deny it. Then he sighed wearily and said, "Yes, Merlin help me, I do. But love isn't always enough, Lupin. Even if Draco wasn't a problem, I don't think that it would work out between us. I don't think that she could get over her pureblood upbringing. It isn't just me that she would have to accept, but also my pack. They are my family, and I would never abandon them."

Lupin had to admit that it was difficult to picture Narcissa presiding over a pack of werewolves, although the thought of a pack of wolves running around Malfoy Manor was rather amusing. Not that Lupin had ever been inside Malfoy Manor, but he imagined that it probably looked a great deal like Snape Manor, in terms of size and grandeur. Strangely enough, he could picture Lady Selima bringing a pack of werewolves to heel. He imagined her getting furious about them shedding fur on the carpet, and he could just picture Selima's icy glare causing the wolves to roll over and tuck their tails between their legs in fear.

"You never know, Lukas," Lupin said aloud.

"Don't interfere, Lupin," Lukas growled.

"I promised you that I wouldn't," Lupin reminded him. "Even if it was given under duress, I would never break my word."

"Sorry," Lukas muttered, having the grace to look a little shamefaced. Then he smiled ruefully. "Am I going to have worry about your mate poisoning my Wolfsbane Potion?" He laughed at Lupin's startled expression. "Well, he is very protective of you--rather like a wolf himself, and it would be the most obvious way to get rid of me. He is a Slytherin and a Potions Master, after all."

Lupin laughed. "You and Severus think alike, but don't worry, Lukas. I didn't tell him about our little argument this morning."

"Nevertheless, maybe I'll get my potion from Takeshi for the next few months, just to be on the safe side," Lukas said.

*** 

Aric felt like shit the morning after his drinking binge. His only consolation was that Draco seemed to feel even worse. And Lupin's amused little smiles didn't do anything to make Aric feel better. Snape was furious, but the stupid werewolf seemed to find the whole thing very funny--that was a Gryffindor for you. Of course, Aric felt rather stupid himself for getting caught, but it was all Malfoy's fault. If Malfoy hadn't followed him and started that fight, he probably wouldn't have gotten caught, Aric self-righteously told himself. After all, he'd been pretty good at evading trouble at Durmstrang.

Still, he should've had the foresight to obtain a hangover potion ahead of time. Since Snape was hardly going to give him one or let him brew one, Aric was stuck with his headache and nausea. He drank some watered-down tea and nibbled on some dry toast at breakfast as the other Slytherins giggled and smirked. He would've loved to wipe those smirks off their faces, but he figured he was in enough trouble at the moment, and besides, his head hurt too much to start a fight.

Aric didn't know what Snape had said to Draco, but the other boy arrived at the Great Hall looking very pale, with reddened eyes, as if he'd been crying. Snape was scary, but Aric had never seen him make a student cry before, although there were stories about him having driven a few sensitive first-years to tears in the past. Or had Snape and Lupin been discussing some personal matter with Draco, something upsetting enough to make a cynical Slytherin cry? 

Aric recalled that Lupin had sent him out of the office when Draco started pitching a fit about serving detention with Master Diggory. Aric frowned as he wondered what Draco's problem with the werewolf was. Aric's memory of the night before was a little blurry, but he vaguely recollected Draco saying something about Diggory having stained the Malfoy family's honor, which made no sense. As far as Aric knew, the werewolf had never done anything to hurt the Malfoys except to fight against the Death Eaters, and Aric didn't think that Draco held a grudge about that.

But whatever had happened in the office after Aric left, Draco seemed very humbled. He didn't snap at his housemates for laughing at him, and when Dylan asked him how he was feeling, he meekly replied, "I'm okay, thanks."

His friends looked pleasantly surprised to hear something other than a snide or sullen remark from him. "Well, you don't look so good," Damien said with a grin, "but you are still in one piece, which is more than I expected to see once Snape got through with you!"

Dylan, Blaise, and Theo laughed in a good-natured manner, and Draco smiled hesitantly. In an almost timid manner, he said, "Listen, Rosier, I've been banned from the Pitch for two weeks as part of my detention. Will you take charge of the team while I'm gone?"

"Sure, Draco," Dylan replied. "I'll make sure to give you reports on how the practices are going." Draco looked pleased to hear Dylan still deferring to him as team Captain even if he was temporarily in disgrace.

Malfoy and his friends seemed to have made up. How nice for them, Aric thought disgruntledly. Which made Aric the sole pariah in Slytherin once again. He missed his friends at Durmstrang, but even if they'd been around, he didn't think that he could have confided in any of them about the marriage alliance. They wouldn't understand why he was so opposed to it. They might sympathize with him a little about having to marry a girl he didn't like, but they wouldn't consider that grounds to turn down the alliance. They all coveted a job in the Ministry, or its equivalent in their home countries.

Aric managed to get through his classes somehow, in spite of his hangover. He was feeling a little better by lunch, at least until Lupin caught up with him and drew him aside as he was leaving the Great Hall.

"What do you want?" Aric asked sullenly.

"I know that your parents are trying to arrange a marriage for you," Lupin said bluntly.

"How did you find out about that?" Aric asked, too startled to deny it.

Lupin smiled. "Lady Selima hears all the gossip in the pureblood world, and there is the fact that Professor Sinistra said she heard you shouting something about not wanting to get married last night."

Aric groaned; it was all Malfoy's fault. If it wasn't for Malfoy, Aric could have gotten drunk in quiet solitude last night. "It's none of your damned business," Aric snarled at Lupin. That would have earned him another detention from Snape, but Lupin just smiled at him kindly.

"I'd like to help you if I can, Aric," Lupin said.

"How could you possibly help me?" Aric asked scornfully.

"Well, for one thing, I could be a friend and provide a sympathetic ear when you need someone to talk to," Lupin offered.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Aric sneered.

Unperturbed, Lupin continued, "And while your parents are not likely to listen to me, I do have a few influential friends in the Ministry."

Aric stared at Lupin, suddenly remembering that Lupin was friends with Arthur Weasley. Almost against his will, he felt a sudden surge of hope. "You'd ask the Minister to get my parents to call off the marriage?" he asked incredulously.

"I can't make any promises," Lupin cautioned, "and the Minister has many important matters to occupy his time, chiefly Master Diggory's trial. But I think he would be sympathetic, and together perhaps we could come up with some sort of alternative to the marriage alliance that would keep your family happy."

Hope, Aric found, was a surprisingly painful emotion. On one hand, he was filled with joy at the thought of being able to escape the marriage alliance, but on the other hand, the prospect of failure hurt even more in comparison. He didn't know if he could bear to be offered false hope and have his dreams shattered a second time. Maybe it was better to just resign himself to the inevitable.

"I don't need your help," Aric said sullenly, but some small, desperate part of him was unwilling to give up completely. "But do whatever you like," he added, in a tone of feigned indifference, as if he didn't care one way or the other.

"All right," Lupin said with a smile, and Aric had a sneaking suspicion that he had not fooled Lupin one bit. "Don't forget to meet at my office afterschool for your detention."

Aric showed up at the appointed time to find the others waiting for him. Draco had a sulky expression on his face and was pointedly avoiding even looking at Master Diggory, who looked as if he didn't want to be here any more than Draco did. Lupin, however, seemed as cheerful as ever.

"Well, now that we're all here, let's get going, shall we?" he asked in a chirpy voice, and Diggory looked like he was seriously thinking about strangling the other werewolf.

They took the Floo to the clinic, where they were greeted by Takeshi. "Why, hello," he said to Lupin and Diggory. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Then he caught sight of Aric and Draco stepping through the fireplace behind their teachers, and he smiled knowingly. "Ah, I see. Don't tell me that you have detention again, Aric."

"It's his fault," Aric said, pointing at Draco.

"Me?" Draco protested. "It was you who bought the Firewhiskey!"

"Nobody told you to sneak out of the dorm and follow me!" Aric retorted. "And it was you who started the fight!"

"I did not! You were the one who attacked me!"

The two boys finally broke off their argument when they heard their teachers laughing at them. "Well, I guess I don't have to ask why you're in detention," Takeshi said. Aric scowled and flushed, feeling as if he'd been made to look like a stupid kid in front of his older friend.

"How have you been, Takeshi?" Lupin asked. "Haruko thinks you're working too hard."

"My mother worries too much," Takeshi said lightly, but Aric noticed that he did look a little tired.

"Well, we've brought two of Severus's best Potions students to help you out today," Lupin said magnanimously. "And for the rest of the week as well."

Takeshi smiled mischievously at Aric and Draco. "How generous of the two of you to volunteer." He held out his hand to Draco, saying, "I'm Takeshi Kimura. I'm not sure if you remember me from Hogwarts."

Draco shook his hand and said, "Uh, sure," although he looked as though he was having trouble placing Takeshi's face. "Ravenclaw, right? And you were at the Career Fair, too--you work for St. Mungo's."

"That's right," Takeshi replied. Aric noticed that he didn't ask who Draco was, but he probably had a better memory than Draco, and besides, the Malfoys were famous--or rather, infamous--thanks to Lucius Malfoy's membership in the Death Eaters. "I just finished brewing a Healing Potion a little while ago," Takeshi said. "It should be cool enough to bottle now, if you'd like to help me."

So they left Lupin and Diggory in the lobby of the clinic, and followed Takeshi to his workroom. Draco and Aric ladled potion from the cauldron into bottles and handed them to Takeshi, who stoppered them and put them away on a shelf.

"So what's the latest gossip at Hogwarts?" Takeshi asked casually.

"Dietrich is getting married," Draco told him, sounding pleased to be passing on a juicy piece of gossip.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Aric hissed, but it was too late.

A bottle of Healing Potion slipped through Takeshi's hands and shattered on the floor with a loud crash. Draco cursed and jumped back, trying to avoid being splashed with the spilled potion.

Lupin and Diggory suddenly appeared in the doorway of the workroom. "Is everyone okay in here?" Lupin asked.

Takeshi just stood there for a moment, a blank look on his face, then he blinked and said, "Yes, we're fine, Remus. I'm just a bit clumsy." He laughed and said, "Tell me to sit down before you give me such shocking news next time, Draco!"

"Shocking news?" Diggory asked.

"That Aric is getting married," Takeshi said. He smiled brightly at Aric and said cheerfully, "Congratulations! I didn't even know that you were dating anyone. Who is the lucky lady?"

"Nothing's been decided yet," Aric growled, his face turning red. He glared at Draco, his hands clenching into fists, fighting a strong urge to throttle the other boy. Only the presence of Lupin and Diggory prevented him from doing it. "My parents are thinking about arranging a betrothal for me, but nothing's been finalized yet. Big-mouth Malfoy is jumping the gun a little."

Draco shrugged, looking unrepentant. "Last night you sounded pretty certain it was going to happen."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Aric snapped. "It's none of your business."

"Um...perhaps we should clean up the spill?" Lupin suggested diffidently.

"Oh, of course!" Takeshi exclaimed. "We wouldn't want anyone to get cut on the broken glass." He cast a quick cleaning spell to clear away the mess. "Well, let's get back to work, shall we?"

Aric frowned; the mediwizard sounded almost as annoyingly chipper as Lupin, which was a little out of character for him. He didn't know why Takeshi should sound so happy about Aric getting married, and Aric didn't know why Takeshi being happy about it should annoy him so much. 

_It's all Malfoy's fault,_ he said silently, and distracted himself with thoughts of wrapping his hands around Malfoy's throat and wringing his scrawny little neck.

"So, which girl do your parents have in mind?" Takeshi asked, still with that oddly sunny smile on his face. "One of the Slytherins? Pansy Parkinson, perhaps, or Millicent Bulstrode? No, I heard that Millicent got engaged to Miles Bletchley over the Christmas holidays..."

"She's not a Slytherin," Aric replied in a flat voice. "She went to Beauxbatons. Her name is Miranda Tierney."

"Tierney," Takeshi mused. "I don't think I know her--oh, wait. Does her father work at the Ministry?"

"Yeah," Aric said glumly. "He's the Head of International Magical Cooperation."

"I've met him," Takeshi said, frowning a little. "He's very vocal about backing Arthur Weasley's policies, and he shook hands with some volunteers for the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program at a photo shoot for the Daily Prophet, but I could sense the disdain beneath the smile he put on for the cameras."

"He's a typical pureblood," Diggory said with a cynical smile. "He despises us for having tainted blood, but he'll do whatever it takes to suck up to the Minister. It's really no different from the way people used to suck up to Fudge, but at least it works in our favor this time."

"I suppose I should be glad he's supporting Arthur, no matter what the reason," Takeshi said, still frowning, "but I really wanted to wash my hand after he shook it. He was just oozing so much false sincerity that it almost felt slimy." Diggory just laughed.

"We do the best we can with what we have," Lupin said philosophically. "At least he's helping us, even if it's unwillingly. We had might as well make use of him."

"That's very Slytherin of you, Remus," Takeshi observed.

Lupin grinned. "When you live with a Slytherin, you tend to pick up some of their sneaky and cynical ways."

Lupin and Diggory left the room, and Aric, Draco, and Takeshi continued bottling the Healing Potion. "So what is your future fiancee like?" Takeshi asked.

"She's not my fiancee yet!" Aric snapped. "And how should I know what she's like? I haven't seen her since I was seven or eight years old!"

"Your parents want you to marry a girl you don't know?" Takeshi asked, looking startled and concerned.

"I told you it was an arranged marriage," Aric muttered sullenly.

"Well, yes, I know that some of the pureblood families still arrange marriages for their children, but I assumed it would be someone that you were at least familiar with," Takeshi said, still looking disturbed. "There is only so much pure blood to go around, after all," he added, quoting a common saying. "Most of the old Slytherin families know each other very well."

"Aric's fiancee went to Beauxbatons," Draco said. "So she hasn't spent much time in England for several years."

"I said, she's not my fiancee yet!" Aric growled.

Takeshi frowned. "Arranged marriages were once common in my homeland, too, although most young couples marry for love these days. But in the past, one's marriage partner was chosen to make an advantageous alliance that would bring wealth and honor to the clan, as well as for the magical talent that they would pass down to their children, or perhaps to end a feud by wedding members of two warring families. Love had very little to do with it, and I think it's very sad. Perhaps that's why we have so many tales about star-crossed lovers. 

"One of my favorite stories is literally about two stars: there's an old legend that says that the star Altair is Prince Hikoboshi, the Herdsman, and the star Vega is Princess Orihime, the Weaver. They fell in love and married, but they were so enraptured with each other that they neglected their duties. Orihime's father, the King of the Heavens, grew angry and separated them, placing them on opposite sides of the Celestial River--the Milky Way. But once every year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, the celestial birds form a bridge across the river and allow the two lovers to meet--but only if the sky is clear. If it is raining, the birds cannot form the the bridge, and the lovers must wait for another year. We have the Tanabata festival in Japan every year to celebrate the lovers' reunion. We write wishes on pieces of paper and hang them from bamboo trees, hoping they will come true, as the lovers' wish to be reunited was granted."

"Very romantic," Draco said, looking bored. "I'm sure the Slytherin girls would love that story."

"It is very romantic," Takeshi agreed, unoffended. "But it's also very sad, that the lovers can only meet once a year."

Aric thought to himself gloomily that maybe his marriage to Miranda would be more tolerable if he only had to see her once a year.

"Are you sure that you want to go through with this, Aric?" Takeshi asked, looking anxious. "You don't seem very happy about your proposed marriage."

"I don't have a choice," Aric said curtly. "It's my duty to my family." He suddenly felt sick, even though his hangover was finally gone. He wanted to scream, "Don't you understand that I don't want to do this?!" But all he said was, "Will everyone please stop talking about my marriage? Which has not, may I remind you once again, been finalized yet? The whole thing could still fall through." Although Aric doubted that he would be that lucky.

Takeshi put away the last bottle of Healing Potion and obligingly changed the subject. "Well then, now that that's done, maybe the two of you could start a batch of Elixir of Vitality for me. You did learn to make that in Professor Snape's class, right?"

"Of course," Draco replied in a slightly condescending tone. "It's a simple enough potion to make." 

Takeshi just smiled. "Great. You'll find the ingredients in that cupboard. And while you're working on that, maybe I can get a head start on next month's Wolfsbane Potion."

"Why are we making this?" Draco asked curiously as they worked on the potion. "I thought that werewolves didn't get sick very often."

"They heal wounds quickly," Takeshi said, "and they don't get sick very often--at least not since Professors Snape and Kamiyama improved the Wolfsbane Potion. But they're not invincible, and they can become weak or ill, especially when they don't get enough to eat. Things are better now than they were when Fudge was in office, but some of the werewolves are too proud to accept charity from Werewolf Support. And even for the ones that do, the donated foodstuffs that we get don't necessarily provide a complete and balanced diet. The Elixir helps make up for some of the lost nutrients, although it's not a replacement for eating right. I'm especially concerned about the children."

"Children?" Draco asked, startled.

"Yes, there are some children in Lukas's pack," Takeshi confirmed. "Some are human children of werewolf parents, and others were infected with lycanthropy at an early age. Malnutrition alone can do permanent damage to the health of a growing child, but combined with the stress of the monthly transformations, it's even more serious."

"How do you know so much about werewolves?" Draco asked.

"Well, I was assigned to the Creature-Induced Injuries section when I first started working at St. Mungo's," Takeshi replied. "Some of our patients were the victims of werewolf attacks. And then my parents became sponsors of the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program, so I started volunteering at the clinic, and I got to know most of Lukas's pack pretty well."

Aric sullenly worked on the Elixir as he listened to Takeshi and Draco chat about werewolves. Under normal circumstances, he might have found the subject matter interesting and joined in the conversation, but today it got on his nerves. All this information would have been fascinating and useful for a mediwizard, but since he wasn't going to become one, it only served to remind him of what he was losing. And it irked him to no end to see Takeshi and Draco chatting like old friends. 

Takeshi was supposed to be Aric's friend, dammit, so why was he getting so chummy with Malfoy? Then he realized that he felt jealous, which made him even angrier, because there was no real reason for him to feel jealous--none that he was willing to admit to, anyway. So he stood there stewing and fuming in silence, thinking about various ways to kill Malfoy; strangulation was too good for him.

"Have you considered applying for a job at St. Mungo's when you graduate?" Takeshi asked Draco, to Aric's horror. It would be utterly unfair for Draco to become a mediwizard when Aric couldn't! 

"I don't think they'd want to hire me," Draco said, flushing a little. "And besides, I haven't got a Healing Gift."

"Oh, I see," Takeshi said sympathetically. "Well, I can put in a good word for you with my boss if you like. Healer Smethwyck judges people by their abilities, not their parentage. It's true that without a Gift, you couldn't become a full Healer, but a hospital always needs someone who can brew potions. Although you might want to get some advanced training first, an apprenticeship with a Master, perhaps?"

"Professor Snape's found a couple of Potions Masters willing to take me on," Draco said. "But they live overseas, and I'd hate to leave my mum all alone. I did get a job offer from Cassidy Sinclair. You know, the guy who invented the magical music boxes and recording spheres?"  "And the toy wolf cubs!" Takeshi laughed. "That sounds like fun."

Now Aric was even more jealous than before, but since he had an acceptable motivation for it this time, he didn't try to fight it. He really hoped that Draco took the job with Sinclair, because if he went to work at St. Mungo's, Aric really would have to kill him. And how dare Takeshi, who was supposed to be his friend, offer to help his rival? But Takeshi probably just felt sorry for Malfoy, and he didn't know that Aric was not going to become a mediwizard after all. Aric dreaded breaking the news to him, not just because Takeshi would be disappointed in him, but because it would make the whole marriage alliance all too real when Aric wanted to pretend that it would just go away. Or maybe what he was afraid of was that Takeshi wouldn't be disappointed in him, that he wouldn't care one way or the other if Aric came to work at St. Mungo's or not...

A sudden commotion from the front of the clinic interrupted his thoughts: a barrage of high-pitched laughter, shouting, and yelping. Takeshi didn't look alarmed, but he hurried out to the lobby, and Aric and Draco followed him.

The yelping came from three toy wolf cubs that were running around barking excitedly and playfully nipping at the heels of the people in the room. The laughter and shouting came from three children. Aric recognized the dark-haired little boy that Diggory was tossing into the air as Max, whom he remembered from his first detention at the clinic. There were two blonde children, a boy and girl who appeared to be a couple of years older than Max, tugging at Diggory's robes and clamoring for a turn.

"Me next, me next!" they chanted in almost perfect unison. "Come on, Uncle Lukas, me next!"

"Uncle Lukas?" Draco asked, staring incredulously as the fierce werewolf leader played with the three children.

"Oh, he's very good with the children," Takeshi said cheerfully. "They all love him."

Max's mother Rachel laughingly protested, "Don't drop them, Lukas!"

"Have I ever dropped any of them before?" Diggory asked with a grin, looking more happy and at ease than Aric had ever seen him at school. But he set the child he was tossing, the little blonde girl, gently back down on the ground, much to her disappointment. "So what brings you here today?"

"It's my day off, and I was supposed to be baby-sitting the terrible twosome while their mother is at work," Rachel replied. "But someone called in sick at the Leaky Cauldron, and they asked me to come in. Would you mind watching them for a couple of hours, until Katherine gets off work? She'll come pick them up at the clinic and watch Max until I finish my shift."

"Of course," Diggory said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Go on, don't worry; we'll watch the little monsters for you."

Rachel thanked him and left, and the children caught sight of Takeshi. "Uncle Takeshi!" they shouted, and ran over to hug him. Their eyes widened with curiosity when they spotted Draco and Aric.

"This is Max, and Lyra, and Lancelot," Takeshi said, introducing the children. When Draco raised his eyebrows slightly, Takeshi grinned and said, "The twins' mother is partial to exotic names."

"Everyone calls me Lance," the blond boy said.

"What does exotic mean?" Max asked.

"Unusual," Takeshi replied. "And these are my friends, Aric and Draco, from Hogwarts school. They've come to help me brew potions today."

"I can't wait to go to Hogwarts!" Lyra said excitedly. "Mama says that even werewolves can go to school now! She says that Uncle Lukas is a teacher there now!"

"That's right," Takeshi said, affectionately stroking her hair.

Lance wrinkled his nose. "Are you brewing the Wolfsbane Potion? Isn't there anything you can do to make it taste less gross?"

"I'm afraid not," Takeshi said sympathetically. "It's like medicine, and medicine usually doesn't taste very good. But you can have some tea and honey afterwards to wash the taste out of your mouth. I'll send some to your mother with the next batch of potion."

Diggory strode over, saying, "All right, you cubs, that's enough. Let Takeshi get back to work."

The three children immediately clustered around him. "I want a piggyback ride!" Max shouted.

"Me too, me too!" cried the twins.

"Now, how am I going to carry all three of you at the same time?" Diggory asked, pretending to look perplexed. "Okay, let's try it this way." He lifted Max onto his shoulders, then tucked one twin under each arm and walked off as the children shrieked with laughter.

Draco was still staring at his teacher in shock, and Lupin came over, looking amused. "You've never seen that side of Lukas, have you?" he asked softly. "But he's very good with young children. I've watched him with his first-year classes."

"Lukas is the leader of the pack," Takeshi explained. "That means he's like a father figure to the other werewolves. It's his duty to look after them and keep them safe."

"Hmmph!" Draco sniffed in his most arrogant pureblood manner. "I don't see how any of this matters to me."

Lupin sighed, looking sad but not surprised, and went to help Diggory look after the children. Aric and Draco went back to work with Takeshi. "So who was that woman?" Draco demanded. "Is she Master Diggory's girlfriend?" He sounded slightly offended by the idea, for some reason.

"Rachel?" Takeshi laughed. "She's Max's mother, and there's nothing going on between them." He added in a tone of gentle reproach, "Not that it would be any of our business if there were."

"But he kissed her," Draco said.

"On the cheek," Takeshi reminded him. "It doesn't really mean anything. All the werewolves are very affectionate with each other. I think it has something to do with the bond they share as packmates..."

He sounded like he was about to go off on another lecture about werewolf behavior, but Aric interrupted him. "Those two kids, the blonde ones--are they werewolves? They're so young."

Takeshi nodded, his expression solemn now. "Yes, the entire family was attacked by a feral werewolf a few years ago. It's rare for children that young to survive an attack, but their parents tried to shield them from the brunt of it. The father died; the mother and children survived but were turned."

Draco and Aric continued working on the Elixir in silence. Aric didn't know about Draco, but he found Takeshi's story both sobering and disturbing. It was difficult to imagine that the twins had suffered such a vicious attack; they seemed as cheerful and energetic as any normal child. Aric remembered his parents reading about Arthur Weasley's equal rights bill in the Daily Prophet and being outraged at the thought of treating monsters like people. 

Aric had agreed with them at the time, but he found that it was getting harder to think of the werewolves as less than human now that he had met some of them. It was one thing to say that werewolves should not be allowed to work, and another to realize that the prohibition could result in starving children. Nor did he like the thought of his two teachers being locked up in Azkaban as dangerous beasts--things had never gotten that far, but he knew that a lot of purebloods thought that the werewolves should all be imprisoned, or even exterminated.

Draco looked like he was having similar troubling thoughts. Takeshi filled up the silence by chattering about the potions he was using to treat the werewolves, the difficulties of brewing the Wolfsbane Potion, and his parents' plan to expand their restaurant business by offering take-out and delivery service. Aric couldn't remember the mediwizard ever being this talkative before; he was babbling as badly as Lupin at his most annoying, and Aric began to notice a frenetic and brittle quality to his voice beneath the outward good cheer. He tried very hard not to think about what might have upset Takeshi, and whether Takeshi being upset about the thing that he didn't want to think about made Aric feel better or worse.

He tried to tune out his friend's voice--and his own thoughts--by silently cataloging potion ingredients in his head. When he ran out of potion ingredients, he started going over Quidditch statistics. Before long, he was starting to get a headache, and he looked up with relief when Lupin popped into the room and said, "Time to go! I need to take our two miscreants back to school before dinner starts."

Takeshi took a look at the cauldron of Elixir. "Good timing; it looks like the potion's just about done. Thank you for your help." As the two boys started to turn away to leave with Lupin, Takeshi called, "Wait just a minute before you go!" He plucked two small jars from a shelf and handed them to Aric and Draco. "Healing salve for your bruises," he said, motioning to their faces, which still bore the marks of last night's brawl. He smiled and winked, adding, "But don't tell Professor Snape that I gave it to you."

"You're not still afraid of him, are you, Takeshi?" Lupin asked with a grin.

"Remus," Takeshi said with a rueful smile, "I don't think that any of the Professor's students ever stop fearing him, no matter how old they get!"

Lupin laughed. "Well, Tonks might be an exception, but overall, I think you're right."

Takeshi grabbed a couple of books off another shelf. "And here, these are for you, Aric--my old texts on healing potions and spells. I was going to owl them to you, but I'll give them to you now since you're here. I used these to study for my N.E.W.T.s and they were very helpful, so I thought I'd pass them on to you."

So he wasn't going to be allowed to put it off any longer; that didn't really surprise Aric, with the way his luck had been going lately. "Keep them," he said in a hollow voice. "I'm not going to become a mediwizard."

"But--" Takeshi started to say, looking puzzled.

"That's what the marriage alliance is about," Aric explained, feeling worse with each passing second. "My future father-in-law is going to get me a job at the Ministry."

"But you were so passionate about becoming a mediwizard!" Takeshi argued. "Is that really what you want?"

"No, it's not what I want, damn it!" Aric shouted in frustration. "But that's what my family's decided on, and I don't have a choice!"

"I could try to talk to your parents," Takeshi offered. "Or I guess they wouldn't listen to a lowly mediwizard, but maybe if the Head Healer--"

"Don't you get it?" Aric shouted. "Even if they offered me a job as Head of St. Mungo's, that still wouldn't be equal to a Ministry job in my parents' eyes!" The sorrow in Takeshi's eyes caused Aric's anger to drain away. "I'm sorry," he said softly, knowing that he was apologizing for more than not taking a job at St. Mungo's. "But I will inherit the Dietrich title someday; I have a duty to my family. I don't have a choice."

"We always have choices," Takeshi said, just as quietly, "although the alternatives are not always pleasant. But I do not fault you for the choice you have made. I understand the demands of clan loyalty, and I'm not sure that I would not have done the same thing in your place." Then he said in a voice that sounded unnervingly like a formal farewell, "I wish you joy in your life, Aric."

Aric could not imagine ever feeling joy in his life again, but he managed to get a hoarse "Thank you" out past the lump in his throat.

Draco was beginning to look at them strangely, and Takeshi grinned and said cheerfully, "Don't forget to invite me to your wedding!"

Aric pasted a smile on his face and replied, "Of course not," knowing that there was no way in hell that he was going to invite Takeshi to his wedding. It would be like rubbing salt into his wounds.

"We'll be back tomorrow," Lupin said pleasantly, and Aric miserably followed him to the fireplace to head back to Hogwarts, thinking to himself that Snape could not possibly have found a worse punishment for him than this.

*** 

Left alone at last, Takeshi sank into a chair and began to laugh, a soft and slightly hysterical sound. He thought to himself that the gods must be playing some sort of cosmic joke on him, and wondered if they got some sort of pleasure out of torturing hapless mortals--like the tales of Eros, or Cupid, who would shoot his arrows into the hearts of humans, sometimes causing one person to develop an unrequited love for another just to amuse himself.

He finally realized that the wolf in his dream had been Aric. He was not sure why Aric had taken the form of a wolf in the dream; maybe because he had a little of the predatory nature of a wolf.

Or because he had a wolf's loyalty to his pack. Aric was a spoiled, arrogant, self-centered pureblood boy, but he had just proven that he took his duty to his clan very seriously. He would never go against them, not even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

Takeshi continued to laugh at himself, wondering how he could ever have fallen in love with such a person. He had liked Aric in spite of his faults, had seen a hint of loneliness and vulnerability beneath the arrogance. He had seen the potential for Aric to become more than just another pampered pureblood, and had been pleased when the boy had said that he wanted to become a mediwizard. It was a good sign, Takeshi had thought, for Aric to show interest in a profession that involved helping people. He had regarded Aric with the affection he might have felt for a younger sibling, but he would never in a million years have thought of him as a potential lover.

Particularly not after the way he had gloated about his cousin's homosexuality being exposed, and the way he had so casually and callously said that it was all right for guys to "mess around" with each other "for fun," but that it could never develop into anything serious because every pureblood was expected to make a "proper" marriage. That had been the first time that Takeshi had truly gotten angry at Aric, although it was a typical form of pureblood prejudice, no worse than their disdain for the Muggle-born or non-humans. But Aric's offhand insult had hurt Takeshi deeply; he had told himself at the time that it was because it had hurt to know that his friend might despise him the same way that he despised Theodore if he knew that Takeshi was gay.

He didn't know exactly when Aric had become so important to him, could not place the exact moment when a casual friendship had turned into something more. But when Draco had blurted out that Aric was getting married, Takeshi could no longer hide his feelings from himself. His heart had seemed to stop for a moment, and his whole world had shattered and fallen apart the way that the potion bottle had shattered on the floor.

He had forced himself to smile and congratulate Aric in a voice that sounded so falsely cheerful that he couldn't believe the two boys didn't see through him immediately. Aric was not happy about the forthcoming marriage, but that was little comfort, as he seemed resigned to go through with it. Takeshi had found himself babbling like an idiot, going on and on about werewolves, potions, his parents' restaurant, anything to fill up the awkward silence. Anything to prevent himself from saying the words that he really wanted to say: Don't marry that girl; stay with me; I love you.

Duty to one's family was very important to the Japanese wizards, and Takeshi couldn't ask Aric to give up his family for him, and he knew that the Dietriches would probably disown Aric if he not only turned down the marriage but also took a male lover. Or perhaps he would have been selfish enough to ask Aric to make such a sacrifice if he thought Aric would go through with it, but he knew that Aric never would. He didn't know whether it was better or worse that Aric would not become a mediwizard; he felt sorry for the boy, that he had to give up his dream and his link to his late uncle, but on the other hand, it would be agony to have to see Aric at work every day, knowing that he belonged to someone else.

If Aric had been happy about the marriage, or if he had been unhappy but shown no sign of interest in Takeshi, it might have been easier to let go. But he had seen the same pain in Aric's eyes that he felt himself, and they had stared at each other helplessly, with mutual unspoken longing and despair in their eyes.

Draco had seemed distracted by some sort of personal problem, which was perhaps why he had not picked up on the tension between Aric and Takeshi earlier, but he had finally begun to look at them oddly at that point. So Takeshi had grinned (it had felt more like a grimace, but it had seemed to fool Draco) and said, "Don't forget to invite me to your wedding!" He had wanted to kick himself as soon as the words had left his mouth; could there be any worse torture than watching the man you loved marry someone else? 

Takeshi laughed at himself for being so stupid. Well, if Aric actually did send him an invitation, he would invent some sort of excuse not to go--an "emergency" at St. Mungo's, perhaps.

It was stupid to fall in love with a shallow and bigoted pureblood, even if Aric wasn't quite as bad as most of his peers. It was ridiculous to fall in love with a schoolboy who hadn't even graduated yet, even if, as Lukas had pointed out once, he was no longer a boy but legally an adult. 

Just as stupid as falling in love with a faceless lover in a dream.

He was still sitting there, laughing and crying at the same time a few minutes later when Lukas came to check on him.

"Takeshi?"

Takeshi jumped, and hastily removed his glasses and ran his sleeve across his eyes. "Lukas! I thought you left with Remus."

"Katherine hasn't come to pick up the kids yet," Lukas said, and Takeshi realized that should have been obvious, since the werewolf was holding Lyra in his arms. Max and Lance came over to look at Takeshi with equal amounts of curiosity and concern.

"Are you crying, Uncle Takeshi?"

"Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

Takeshi wiped the tears from his eyes and put his glasses back on. "Yes, I'm a little sad, but I'm all right now. I just...heard some bad news today."

"What kind of bad news?" Max asked.

"Did somebody die?" Lance asked, with morbid curiosity.

"Nobody died," Takeshi assured them. "A friend of mine is...ah...moving away, and I won't see him anymore, and that made me sad."

The children were about to pepper him with more questions, but just then a woman's voice called out, "Hello? Lukas?"

"Mama!" the twins cried.

Lukas set Lyra down on the ground, and the twins ran off to greet their mother, with Max following after them. Lukas gave Takeshi a knowing look, and the mediwizard felt his face turning red. "I...um...ah..."

"It's all right," Lukas said quietly. "I understand what it's like to want something you can't have." And with that mysterious statement, he went to greet the twins' mother, leaving Takeshi alone in the workroom.

*** 

Draco was still sulking, but also looking thoughtful when they returned to Hogwarts, and Lupin felt rather pleased with himself. He had wanted Draco to see Lukas as a person and not just a teacher or the man threatening to take the place of his father. There was a different side to him when he interacted with his pack, especially the children, a more tender and patient side that the students never saw. Lupin knew that the werewolves stopped by the clinic often, but he had not left things to chance. He had bribed the staff at the Leaky Cauldron to call in Rachel; the maid on duty was more than happy to take a paid day off.

He had told them that he was doing a favor for Rachel, who needed the overtime, and it was true that she worked extra hours when she could. Her salary was just barely enough to support her and Max, although the donations from Werewolf Support helped. She was determined to send Max to Hogwarts when he was old enough, and was putting aside what little savings she could for his school supplies and uniforms, which Lupin knew from experience could add up to quite a costly amount. He remembered how some of his classmates had mocked him for being a "charity case," and he could understand why Rachel did not want to send her son to school with hand-me-downs or donations.

The staff at the Leaky Cauldron assumed that he was helping out a fellow werewolf by allowing her to earn some extra money, and that Rachel was too proud to accept a direct handout from him. They thought it was a bit eccentric of him, but didn't mind accepting his bribe.

Lupin knew that Max adored Lukas, and sent a few owls to make sure word got out that Lukas was stopping by the clinic this afternoon. It had worked out beautifully, with Rachel bringing not just Max, but Lyra and Lance, too. Draco had looked first shocked, and then thoughtful as he watched Lukas play with the children. And he had gotten downright indignant when Lukas kissed Rachel goodbye. Lupin recognized it for what it was, a brotherly peck on the cheek, but Draco seemed to think it was something more, and seemed offended that Lukas was being disloyal to Narcissa, even though he was the one who had instigated their breakup.

Draco pretended that he didn't care, of course, but Lupin was sure that at the very least, he had given the boy food for thought. Lupin felt very smug that his plan had gone so well, congratulating himself on having picked up some Slytherin sneakiness. The only thing that kept him from outright gloating was Aric's and Takeshi's obvious distress.

After Aric's reaction to the proposed betrothal, Lupin had suspected that he might be upset about more than just giving up a career as a mediwizard, and he clearly didn't care about any of the Slytherin girls; the only person he was close to was Takeshi. His suspicions had been confirmed, and it was obvious that Takeshi cared about Aric, too.

But Lupin wasn't sure how he could help them. It was painful to watch Takeshi smiling and pretending to congratulate Aric on his engagement, and just as painful to watch Aric staring at Takeshi as if the mediwizard was already lost to him. Aric was still angry about the marriage, but seemed to have resigned himself to go through with it, and it didn't seem like Takeshi was going to ask him to do otherwise. He wanted to grab them both by the scruffs of their necks and give them a good shake. He wanted to shout at them not to give up so easily, not to throw away a chance at love, as he and Severus had nearly thrown away their own chance.

But it was asking a lot of a young pureblood to go against his family and risk disownment. Severus had been willing, but then again, Severus had hated his family, and Aric loved his. It would not be so easy for him to defy them.

Lupin sighed. Well, maybe he and Arthur could find a way for Aric to avoid this marriage alliance. Although, Lupin realized with a sinking feeling of dismay, he would only be postponing the inevitable. Aric was the son of the Dietrich heir, and eventually he would be expected to marry and produce an heir of his own. Even if his marriage to Miranda was called off, eventually the Dietriches would arrange another for him. There was little Lupin could do other than to be supportive; ultimately Aric would have to choose between love and duty. Or perhaps more precisely, between his love for his family and his love for Takeshi, and Lupin was afraid he knew which one was going to win out.

Lupin doubted that he could sway Aric's decision, and even if he could, he wasn't sure that he should. It was asking a lot, for someone to give up their entire family and the life they had known, especially someone who had grown up in the rigid, formalized world of the pureblood nobility. Lupin himself had been torn between his lover and his friends; how much more difficult must it be to risk losing your family? Even if Aric did give up his family for Takeshi, their relationship might not survive the strain if Aric came to resent the sacrifices he had made for his lover.

Lupin was beginning to understand the magnitude of the choice Selima had been faced with as a young girl. She had chosen duty where Lupin would have chosen love. But he should be grateful for that decision, because it had resulted in Severus. He was sorry for the pain that Selima and Prospero had suffered, but he shuddered at the thought that his lover would never have been born if Selima had remained with her school sweetheart.

Lupin sighed; pureblood politics were so complicated. Well, if he could not help Aric, at least he might be able to help Draco. He went to the dungeon and proudly told Severus about his clever plan.

But Snape frowned, looking concerned and a little angry. "Lupin, don't you understand that your attempts to meddle might well have made things worse?"

"I don't understand," Lupin said. "I thought it would be good for Draco to see Lukas--"

"Behaving like a loving father?" Snape asked pointedly. "Like the father Lucius never was? It's dangerous, Lupin. He might well be drawn to Diggory, but he might also hate himself for being disloyal to his father, and he might resent Diggory even more for being the father that he wished Lucius was."

"Oh," Lupin said in a small voice, not feeling very clever at all. "I...I didn't think..."

"That's obvious, Lupin," Snape said in a scathing voice, but his expression softened a little when he saw how guilty and miserable Lupin looked. He put his arms around Lupin, saying in a tone of ironic humor, "This is what happens when a Gryffindor tries to think like a Slytherin."

Lupin leaned into the embrace, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling very chastened. "I didn't think things through. Perhaps I'm the one who should get detention instead of the boys."

Snape pressed his lips against Lupin's hair. "Hmm," he purred in his low, husky voice, "I must admit, I find the idea quite...stimulating. But I'm afraid you would enjoy it too much, which rather defeats the purpose."

Lupin laughed, feeling a little better. "Truly, Severus, I am sorry. But Draco seemed more thoughtful than angry. Maybe...that is, I hope I didn't do too much damage."

"It was a clever bit of manipulation," Snape admitted, "and it might work. But it's risky, because it could go either way. It's rather like those reckless, harebrained moves that Potter pulls in Quidditch--the sort that either result in winning the game or breaking your neck." He scowled. "Lucky for that Gryffindor brat, he has unholy good luck."

"I promise next time I'll consult with you first," Lupin said.

"You're not bad for a Gryffindor," Snape conceded, "but a good Slytherin always thinks several moves ahead, and you were only looking directly ahead to the next move. That's why you're so bad at chess, Lupin."

"I'll remember that, Severus," Lupin promised.

"And besides," Snape said gruffly, looking away and not meeting Lupin's eyes, "if I really wanted a master of deception as my lover, I wouldn't be sleeping with you."

In Snape-talk that meant "I love you the way you are." Lupin hugged Snape and kissed him. "Why Severus, that might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me!"

"Crazy Gryffindor," Snape grumbled, and Lupin laughed and kissed him again. "I want to help Draco, too, but you can't rush things," Snape said, turning serious once more. "He needs time to come to terms with his father's death. And it might help if Diggory wins his trial; as Lord of the Diggory estate, he'll be a slightly more acceptable mate for Narcissa, although we both know that isn't the real problem. And if Draco takes one of those overseas apprenticeships, perhaps he'll grow a little less dependent on his mother, and a little more inclined to let her live her own life."

Lupin sighed, "I hate waiting, but I guess you're right. It's just that I've wasted so many years of my life, and I don't want others to make the same mistake. Which reminds me..."

He told Snape about Aric and Takeshi, and Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, that's a shock. I expected Mr. Kimura to have better taste in men."

"Severus!" Lupin said reprovingly.

Snape smiled, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lupin, but I don't think that this story will have a happy ending. Dietrich isn't the type to give up everything for love. The most they could hope for would be to carry on what is usually referred to as a 'discreet arrangement' after Aric is married."

Lupin grimaced. "As your mother initially suggested that we do. No, Takeshi isn't the type to settle for that kind of arrangement."

"He has too much pride," Snape agreed. "Besides, he deserves better." Lupin smiled at him tenderly, and Snape huffed, "Oh, don't go all Gryffindor on me, Lupin! Mr. Kimura was one of the few Potions students who never gave me any grief, and his parents are allies of mine. Of course I think he deserves better than to become the plaything of a pureblood heir."

"Aric deserves better, too," Lupin said softly, "than to be sacrificed as a pawn in a game of politics."

"Maybe," Snape said grudgingly. "But I would have more respect for him if he had the courage to fight back and become something more than a pawn."

"Perhaps he will develop that courage, Severus," Lupin said with more hope than he actually felt.

"Perhaps," Snape said gravely, although he didn't sound very optimistic, either. "We shall see."

*** 

Lupin released Lukas from detention supervision duty, and took the boys to the clinic alone for the rest of the week. The other werewolf was surprised, but didn't question him about it, perhaps afraid that Lupin might change his mind.

Draco seemed relieved, although he was still quiet and moody most of the time. However, he seemed to be making a better effort to get along with his housemates, and if he didn't always join in on their conversations or games, he didn't snap at them or insult them, either.

Aric was sullen and dejected, appearing to be too depressed to cause trouble or pick fights with the other students. Most of his housemates considered this a vast improvement over his normal behavior, but Lupin was worried about him. He was beginning to regret forcing the boys to work at the clinic for their detention, because he was also inadvertently punishing Takeshi. Lupin could see that it was painful for the young mediwizard to be around Aric, although he was very good at hiding it. However, Lupin had enough experience with covering up his own feelings to see through someone else's act. 

He hadn't meant to hurt any of them, but he was afraid that his meddling might have had the opposite effect of what he'd intended, driving Draco and Lukas, and Aric and Takeshi farther apart rather than bringing them together.

Lupin sighed to himself. Was a happy ending really impossible? Slytherin cynicism told him "yes," but Gryffindor optimism wasn't ready to call it quits yet. He needed to be patient, he decided, and give all the parties involved some time to deal with their feelings and decide what was important to them. Draco and Aric in particular were dealing with some unfamiliar and turbulent emotions, and were probably not ready to make life-altering decisions right now.

Lupin did meet with Arthur to see if there was anything he could do to help Aric. He didn't mention Takeshi, of course, only Aric's desire to be a mediwizard and his reluctance to be pushed into a marriage with a girl he barely knew. "I sympathize, Remus," the Minister of Magic said, "but I can't exactly tell Edward whom his daughter should or shouldn't marry. If this boy really wants to become a mediwizard that badly, shouldn't he just be honest with his parents?"

"Probably, but you know how the old pureblood families are, Arthur," Lupin replied, smiling wryly. 

"Yes, I know," Arthur sighed, "and I'm sure you do, too, having to deal with Selima Snape on a regular basis."

"I don't think that the Dietriches are quite as intimidating as Lady Selima--" Lupin said, and Arthur laughed.

"Few people are, Remus."

"--but I'm sure that Aric still finds it difficult to go against his parents' wishes," Lupin finished. "Is there anything we can do to at least buy him some time, to work up the courage to stand up to them? Or maybe he'll decide to sacrifice his own wishes for the good of his family, which would make me sad, but at least he'd have made the decision on his own."

"Some time for him to think things through?" Arthur asked thoughtfully. "Fair enough, and I think I can manage that much. I've been working on increasing good relations with foreign wizarding communities; I don't want anyone else pulling that divide-and-conquer strategy that You-Know-Who used. The Death Eaters are gone, but--"

"It's never wise to be complacent," Lupin said. "I agree."

"I was planning to send a diplomatic mission to France," Arthur said. "I was going to wait until Lukas's trial was over, but it's taking longer than I expected, so I might as well go ahead with it now. I'll have Tierney head the mission; he speaks French and he's on good terms with the staff at Beauxbatons, so he's certainly qualified. It's an important enough position that he should feel flattered, and the betrothal negotiations will have to be put on hold until he gets back."

"Thank you, Arthur," Lupin said warmly. 

"I can't keep him there forever, though," Arthur warned. "No more than a month or two at most."

"I understand," Lupin said. "I'm grateful for whatever you can do."

"And I'll keep what you said in mind, too," Arthur said. "The Dietrich children were educated at Durmstrang, which means that they are familiar with foreign mages. Not a bad qualification for the International Magical Cooperation department."

"Lady Selima says that Aric's sister works at the German branch of Gringotts."

"Another good qualification," Arthur said. "Well, if Aric decides he doesn't want a Ministry career, I'll keep his sister in mind. I'd really prefer to hire someone who actually wants to be here; people who are unhappy with their jobs generally aren't the best workers. But Edward Tierney is one of my strongest supporters--even if his motivation is self-interest--and I can't really afford to offend him at this point. Especially with the Ministry and the Wizengamot divided in opinion over Lukas's claim to the Diggory estate." He sighed heavily. "Sometimes I wonder how I ever let Albus talk me into accepting this job."

Lupin smiled. "Because you knew that you could do some real good in the wizarding world, and that someone like Fudge, who only cared about his own ambition, could do real harm. And you have done good things, Arthur. The Wolfsbane Potion is available to any werewolf who needs it. The werewolves are able to work now, and Lukas and I have jobs at Hogwarts. And Lukas might well regain the inheritance that was stolen from him."

Arthur smiled, looking embarrassed but pleased. "I'm glad to know that I've made some difference, then. Sometimes it feels like I'm not getting anything accomplished, other than to spend my time arguing with my department heads and the Wizengamot. Good luck with your student, Remus. I hope things work out for him."

"So do I," Lupin said.

*** 

The werewolves noticed that their leader and their mediwizard friend were both depressed of late. Lukas's trial had not gone well this week; Amos had obviously heard about the howling-at-the-moon incident, and his lawyer had made an issue of it. Lukas had no real defense except to say that he was not a danger when he was taking the Wolfsbane Potion, which was true, but the damage had already been done in the minds of the Wizengamot. They had been reminded that he was part beast. Morrigan had been furious, and had told him in no uncertain terms that he had better keep himself--and the wolf--under control in the future.

So the werewolves assumed that Lukas was upset about the trial, or perhaps it had something to do with his mysterious lover. He was no longer keeping his rendezvous at the Leaky Cauldron, so they assumed that he had broken up with her, whoever she was.

"She must have been a human," Ash said sagely. "He wouldn't have been hiding her from us, otherwise. It's just as well; it never works out between them and us." One of the werewolves who had a human spouse objected, and he added, "Well, hardly ever."

They noticed that Takeshi was also depressed and not his usual cheerful self. They weren't quite sure why, but they did know that his mother was worried that he was working too hard. And the werewolves knew that it was on their behalf, although Haruko didn't hold it against them. They liked Takeshi's parents: his good-natured father who rarely left the kitchens of the Sakura, where he was the head chef, but always sent over platters of food and made it seem like a simple gesture between friends instead of a handout; and his mother, who was as beautiful and elegant as any pureblood noblewoman, but far more kind and gracious, and never condescending. 

And they liked Takeshi, who had treated some of them at St. Mungo's, and had also worked at the clinic ever since the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program started. Many Healers and mediwizards would not treat or touch a werewolf at all, and others only did so reluctantly, with obvious fear and disgust. But Takeshi showed no sign of either, and treated them no differently than any of his other patients. The werewolves were wary of humans, for good reason, but eventually the young mediwizard had won their trust and respect. They considered him a friend, almost part of the pack.

So the werewolf pack decided on their own that they would throw a party to cheer up their leader and their friend, conspiring with Dumbledore and the Kimuras to make sure that the guests of honor would be able to attend.

*** 

Takeshi was alone at the clinic early one evening, filling out a detailed expense report for potion ingredients--the Ministry of Magic seemed to run on paperwork and red tape. But at least the Ministry was covering the cost of the Wolfsbane Potion, so he supposed the paperwork was worth it.

Just then, Kian and Kyra burst into the clinic, grinning from ear to ear. Kyra plucked the quill out of his hand and set it aside, and they each grabbed one of his arms. "Time to close up shop!" Kyra said gaily.

"But my report--" Takeshi protested.

"It can wait till tomorrow," Kyra said as they dragged him to the door.

"But--but what if someone stops by the clinic? We're supposed to be open for at least another two hours."

"I can guarantee that you will have no patients tonight," Kian assured him. "The clinic is mainly for us werewolves, right? And all of us are going to be at the townhouse tonight."

"The full moon is weeks away," Kyra added, "and if by some chance one of us should get sick, you'll be right there to treat us!"

"Consider it making it a house call," Kian laughed.

Takeshi had learned from experience that there was rarely any point in arguing with a stubborn werewolf, so he locked up the clinic and accompanied his friends to the townhouse that was now the werewolves' headquarters. Not all of them lived there, but they still felt the bond of the pack, and often gathered together for meals or casual parties, and they almost always spent the night of the full moon together.

The house was full of happy werewolves, and one bemused pack leader. "Do you know what the occasion is, Lukas?" Takeshi asked.

The werewolf shook his head. "I have no idea. Dumbledore told me--practically ordered me--to stop by the house tonight, but he wouldn't say why."

"Why to honor our valiant pack leader, of course!" Kian declared. "And also our noble mediwizard, who tirelessly brews the Wolfsbane Potion for us every month!"

"The two of you have looked a little down recently," Kyra explained.

"So we thought we'd cheer you up!" Kian said happily.

"And the lovely Lady Haruko is worried that you're working too hard," Ash told Takeshi.

"So you have to relax and have a little fun!" Kian said firmly. "On your mother's orders!"

"Well, I guess can't argue with my mother," Takeshi laughed.

It seemed that most of the werewolves had rearranged their work schedules, trading shifts if necessary, so that they could be off tonight. There was a fine feast laid out; not surprisingly, at least half of it was from the Sakura. Takeshi supposed that his mother really had been worried about him. There was beer and wine for the adults, and pumpkin juice for the children. Takeshi found it impossible not to be moved by the werewolves' thoughtfulness and good cheer, and he relaxed, chatting with his friends and playing with the children. 

After dessert, the children were sent to bed (Takeshi suspected that a small sleeping spell might have been employed to get them to actually stay there), and the party began in earnest. The alcohol began flowing freely, and the furniture was cleared away from the center of the living room to create a dance floor. The impromptu band that had performed at Brian's wedding played a few songs, but soon the musicians wanted to dance, too, so Ash brought out a Muggle boom box. Takeshi smiled a little; his pureblood classmates at Hogwarts would have been horrified--and probably fascinated at the same time.

But that reminded him of Aric, and his smile vanished. He pleaded exhaustion to his current dance partner and retreated to the couch, nursing a glass of wine as he watched the others dance. Lukas seemed to have cheered up a little, and was smiling as he danced with Rachel. Brian and Kyra were also dancing, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes like the happy newlyweds they were. Kian was not dancing, but sitting in front of the fireplace with his lover, Kai--the two Ks, the pack affectionately called them. Kai was young, about the same age as Kian, only a couple of years out of Hogwarts--if he had been allowed to attend, that is, which he hadn't. His hair was blond, in contrast to Kian's dark hair, and they made a very attractive couple, particularly when they were bathed in the glow of the firelight as they were now. They were nuzzling each other affectionately, and looked as though they would probably slip upstairs to be alone before long.

Takeshi sighed and drank the last of his wine. He twirled the empty glass in his hand, wondering how soon he could sneak away and go home without the werewolves noticing. Then he felt a gentle tug on his braid and someone asked, "Why are you looking so gloomy?"

Takeshi looked up to see Ash sitting beside him; he held Takeshi's braid in one hand, and a bottle of Firewhiskey in the other. "I'm not, really. I was just...thinking."

"Well, no wonder you're gloomy," Ash said lightly. "Your glass is empty." And before Takeshi could protest, he filled it with Firewhiskey. Takeshi eyed the glass dubiously, and Ash said, "Come on, drink up! This is a party, after all!"

Takeshi took a sip, and felt his throat burn and his eyes water. "It tastes like turpentine," he complained, when he stopped coughing.

Ash laughed, looking very amused. "And have you ever drank turpentine, that you're able to compare the two?"

"Very funny," Takeshi said, giving the werewolf a baleful look. "Fine, it tastes the way that I imagine turpentine would taste." He sniffed at the glass. "It certainly smells like it. I bet if I threw it against the wall, the paint would start dissolving."

Ash patted him on the shoulder in a slightly condescending manner and took a swig directly from the bottle. "That's okay, I understand. You're not used to strong drink."

"I am used to quality drink," Takeshi retorted. "A fine merlot, or a bottle of good sake."

"Oh, really?" Ash said with a smile. "I suppose you think that I can't appreciate quality. I admit I can't afford it very often." His words were playful rather than bitter. He was toying with the end of Takeshi's braid again, and there was a certain speculative look in his eyes, something that almost seemed to be an invitation.

Takeshi hesitated. The situation with Aric looked hopeless, and there was a Muggle song that went something like, "If you can't be with the one you love, then love the one you're with". What finally decided him was the thought of spending another night in his apartment alone, with no company but his own brooding thoughts.

"My brother just sent me a bottle of very expensive sake from Japan," Takeshi said. "Would you care to share it with me?"

"I'd love to," Ash said. "I'll return the favor sometime with a bottle of vintage turpentine."

Ash left the open bottle of Firewhiskey on a table, and they took the Floo to Takeshi's apartment. Takeshi opened the bottle of rice wine and poured out two glasses.

"Cheers," Ash said, clinking his glass against Takeshi's.

"Kampai," Takeshi said, uttering the traditional Japanese toast.

"Not bad," Ash said, after trying a sip. "A little sweet for my taste."

"The Firewhiskey must have burned out your taste buds," Takeshi said.

"You probably like those sissy drinks that have paper umbrellas and pineapple slices," Ash teased.

"I'll have you know," Takeshi said, raising his glass, "that this is not a sissy drink. It has a sixteen percent alcohol content, more than most wines and beers." He took a sip, then admitted, "But probably not more than Firewhiskey."

"Definitely not," Ash said with a grin. He drained his glass, then leaned forward, whispering, "But I think I could get used to the taste." They kissed and their lips parted, allowing their tongues to explore inside each other's mouths; Takeshi could taste the lingering bitterness of the Firewhiskey beneath the sweeter taste of the sake.

After a long, lingering kiss, they pulled apart, breathing heavily. Ash had a reputation among the werewolves as being something of a playboy; he had admirers of both sexes who thought his scar made him look roguishly handsome rather than disfigured, and despite the myth that werewolves mated for life, he seemed to be in no hurry to settle down. This would probably be nothing more than a one night stand, which was fine with Takeshi; he wasn't ready, after his recent heartbreak, to start a serious relationship. But still, he felt that he should make things clear.

"Ash, my dear friend, will you share pleasure with me for this one night?"

The werewolf gave him a quizzical smile. "Is that a poetic way of making it clear that this is a one night stand?"

Takeshi blushed. "I apologize if I have given offense."

Ash shook his head. "Not at all. It's just a rather...quaint...way to phrase it."

"I have spent some time with the crane people in Japan," Takeshi said. "They have a very formal and structured society, and to insult someone, even unwittingly, can bring grave dishonor upon oneself and one's clan. Like the real cranes, they normally mate for life, but as they are also partly human, sometimes the young people...experiment...while they search for their heart's desire. And to avoid any misunderstandings that might cause complications later, they try to make their intentions clear in a very polite and poetic way. Although of course, they're usually more subtle about it. I might, for example, invite you to gaze upon the beauty of the stars and moon with me. That would signal that I was only interested in a tryst of a single night's length. But if I mentioned wanting to see the sunrise with you, which implies that you will still be here the next day, that would mean that I wished to pursue a more serious relationship with you."

"But you needed to be more blunt with me, because werewolves are anything but subtle," Ash said with a grin. "I admit, all that moon and sun stuff would have gone right over my head."

"It's a little embarrassing," Takeshi said, glad that his friend did not seem to be offended. "But, well..."

"Have there been 'misunderstandings' in your past?" Ash asked, more seriously.

Takeshi nodded, but didn't elaborate. His first love--an infatuation, really, but he had mistaken it for love at the time--had been an older boy he'd met during one of his summers in Japan, the son of a friend of his parents. Takeshi had been completely smitten, and had even offered to transfer from Hogwarts to Mahou Gakkou so as not to be parted from his love, only to discover that his lover had considered the whole thing to be nothing more than a summer fling. The boy had explained awkwardly that he was his parents' only son and would be expected to marry and carry on the family name eventually--not unlike Aric, ironically. Since Takeshi lived in England and had only been visiting for the summer, the boy had assumed that they would enjoy their few months together and part with a kiss and a few fond memories.

They had parted, but the memories were bittersweet. It had hurt a great deal at the time, but eventually Takeshi had realized that he had been more in love with the idea of love than with the boy himself. But still, from then on, he'd taken pains to avoid further misunderstandings in the future.

"Well, just so it's clear then," Ash said with a smile, "I'm not interested in taking a permanent mate at present, and I would love to...experiment...with you." He grinned in a rather predatory manner that sent a shiver of excitement down Takeshi's spine as he remembered the dream he'd had about the black wolf, although he knew that Ash was not that wolf.

They kissed again, more passionately this time, and Takeshi felt his excitement growing as Ash growled into his mouth. Then Ash pulled back for a moment to remove Takeshi's glasses. "They're kind of getting in the way," the werewolf said, as he gently lifted them off Takeshi's face.

"And they're fogging up, too," Takeshi said with a sheepish smile.

Ash tilted his head to one side, staring at Takeshi's face, looking thoughtful. "Hmm...you look different without your glasses somehow. Handsomer. More..." He paused, searching for the right word. "...elegant, like seeing Lukas in his fine robes for the first time. Less like an efficient mediwizard and more like a pureblood Lordling."

"You will me make me vain," Takeshi laughed. "I suppose I could get contact lenses, but I'd have to see a Muggle doctor to get them, and I can't stand the thought of sticking something in my eye."

"Can you see me without your glasses?" Ash asked playfully.

"You're a little blurry," Takeshi replied. "You'd better move a little a closer."

"Close enough?" Ash asked, wrapping his arms around Takeshi and pulling him up against his chest.

"That will do," Takeshi said, his voice suddenly going husky.

He led Ash to the bedroom and they fell onto the bed, kissing and groping and struggling out of their clothing. Takeshi noticed that there were scars on Ash's body as well as his face: what looked like old defensive wounds on his forearms, as if he had lifted them up to ward off an attack, perhaps the same attack that had scarred his face; and also several small, smooth, round scars scattered on his chest and arms. Takeshi was puzzled by the latter, until he realized that they were burn marks, probably caused by a cigar or cigarette, and he suppressed a shudder, because that spoke of abuse rather than injuries resulting from a brawl. He gently pressed his lips to a scar just below Ash's left nipple, and felt the werewolf tense. Then he flicked his tongue across the nipple, and Ash relaxed, growling softly with pleasure.

They continued kissing and caressing with the slight awkwardness and fumbling of new lovers unfamiliar with what best pleased each other. Ash, perhaps following Takeshi's earlier example, decided to be blunt about it. "Okay if I top?"

"Yes, sure," Takeshi replied in a breathless voice. At this point, he would have agreed to just about anything; it had been far too long since he'd last shared his bed with someone, vivid dreams aside.

"Then we'll need some..."

"In the nightstand drawer."

Ash opened a small jar of lavender oil and wrinkled his nose. "It's rather perfumey."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot about your sense of smell," Takeshi said apologetically. "It's just convenient to keep around because I use it in my potions." Not that he'd had the opportunity to use it in anything BUT his potions, lately. "Er...I suppose I could find something else in my potion supplies." He started to sit up, but Ash placed a hand on his chest and firmly pushed him back down on the bed.

"Never mind," the werewolf said. "It doesn't bother me that much."

Takeshi moaned as he felt an oil-coated finger sliding inside him. It felt good, but at the same time not quite right to be doing this with Ash when his heart told him that his true mate was someone else. But it had been a long time, and his body craved the physical pleasure, while his heart craved a little ease from his loneliness, even it it was just temporary. Then Ash slipped a second finger into him, and Takeshi forgot his misgivings.

Little moans and gasps kept escaping from his lips as he spread his legs wider, his body arching up into Ash's touch. The werewolf leaned back, as if to get a better view of his lover, and indeed, he smiled smugly, as if very pleased with what he saw.

"I've never seen you like this before, little healer," he said in a low growl. "You're always so calm and collected. But not now." He grinned, exposing his sharp canine teeth, and his eyes were gleaming with a hungry, feral look that would have sent most humans running in fear. But it only excited Takeshi even more. "Seeing you like this," Ash continued, "writhing and moaning in pleasure, utterly shameless and wanton...I find it very intoxicating."

"I'm not a Healer," Takeshi gasped, not knowing why his mind had decided to latch on to that distinction. "I'm a mediwizard."

"And what's the difference?" Ash asked, sounding amused.

The werewolf's fingers continued to move in and out of Takeshi's body, making it difficult for him to concentrate. "Ah...that is...ah...let me think...a Healer...is...oh!" A deep thrust sent an especially intense jolt of pleasure through his body. "Oh Merlin, who cares? Just don't stop what you're doing!"

Ash laughed. "Whatever the Healer...excuse me, the mediwizard commands." True to his word, he kept thrusting his fingers inside Takeshi while he reached for the jar on the nightstand with his free hand and coated his erection with the glistening oil.

The sight of that caused Takeshi to lick his lips in anticipation and beg, "Ash, oh Ash, please, please..." The werewolf growled, and Takeshi found himself being abruptly flipped over from his back onto his stomach in one swift movement.

He yelped in surprise, and Ash said, "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Is it okay if we do it doggy-style?" He grinned mischievously. "That's my favorite position, for obvious reasons."

Under normal circumstances, that might have made Takeshi blush, but he was too far gone to care. "Yes, yes, whatever you want," he gasped impatiently. Ash gently grasped his hips and pulled him up as Takeshi pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He groaned as Ash entered him from behind, growling softly.

Takeshi suddenly realized that this was awfully similar to the dream he'd had a couple of weeks ago. Could it be that the wolf in his dream was Ash, not Aric? But no...Ash's wolf form would be brown-and-gray, not black, and more importantly, while the lovemaking certainly felt good, Takeshi didn't feel the same sense of joy and completion that he had in the dream. No, Ash was a dear friend, but not his soulmate.

This was not really Takeshi's favorite position; he normally preferred to be able to see his partner's face when he made love, seeking an emotional as well as a physical connection by looking into his lover's eyes. But he found that it did have one distinct advantage: since he could not see his partner's face, he could pretend that it was Aric making love to him instead of Ash, although he felt a little guilty about it. But he couldn't help wondering what sex with Aric would be like. The Slytherin boy was arrogant, reckless, and impatient; it would probably be hard and fast, maybe a little rough. And even though Takeshi usually preferred a slower and gentler pace, he found himself growing excited by that thought. 

Ash was moving slowly, a little tentatively, as if afraid of hurting Takeshi, or perhaps just giving him time to adjust. But there was a certain tension in his body that suggested he was holding back, suppressing his eagerness. Considerate of him, but there was really no need for it.

"Harder," Takeshi gasped.

"Are you sure?" Ash asked

"Yes!" Takeshi replied impatiently.

The werewolf took him at his word, and began thrusting harder and faster, setting a steady, pounding rhythm. Takeshi moaned, reaching up with his right hand to touch himself as he had in his dream, stroking in time with his lover's thrusts. He heard soft panting and growling, again reminding him of the dream, and blurred images of Aric's face and a black wolf appeared in his mind as he neared climax.

Ash thrust hard into Takeshi one last time and howled as he came, which almost drowned out the name Takeshi shouted as his own orgasm claimed him. Takeshi collapsed on the bed, his body shuddering with release, and Ash collapsed on top of him, both of them panting and gasping for breath.

When their breathing had returned to normal, Ash asked in a mild voice, "Um...I don't mean to be nosy, but who's Aric?"

"What?" Takeshi asked, turning his head to stare at Ash blankly, still feeling slightly dazed. Then Ash's words fully sunk in and he cried out in dismay, "I didn't call his name out loud, did I? Oh Merlin, I did!" He felt his face turning red, and he let his head fall back to the bed, burying his face in the pillow to hide his mortification. "Oh Ash, I'm so sorry!" he said, although it came out rather muffled.

Ash rolled off of him and gently but firmly tugged on the end of the braid, pulling him up off the pillow. "I can't understand what you're saying, and besides, you're going to suffocate if you do that."

"I'm really sorry," Takeshi said miserably.

"There, there, what's with the long face?" Ash said, kissing him on the cheek. "We're not married, after all. There's no harm done, except perhaps a little to my ego." He grinned. "And Kyra always says that it's too big, anyway, and could use a little deflating." Takeshi managed a hesitant smile, and Ash said in a gentler voice, "Besides, you looked so depressed tonight, I figured you must be pining over some guy." He kissed Takeshi again. "I only wanted to cheer you up a little, the way you did for Kian last year, when that idiot human broke his heart." He growled softly, and this time it wasn't a playful sound. "I still think that Lukas should have let me tear him into pieces."

"But then you would have been executed or sent to Azkaban, which would only have made Kian feel worse," Takeshi pointed out.

"True," Ash sighed. Then he nuzzled Takeshi's neck affectionately and asked, "So who's Aric? And why is this guy dumb enough to reject such a fine mate? You're handsome, you have a good job, you can heal minor wounds and brew a pretty good hangover potion--which comes in quite handy, at least in my experience, not to mention that you come with a steady supply of free food from your parents' restaurant."

Takeshi couldn't help but laugh. "A very fine dowry indeed, Ash. But things are a little more complicated than that. Aric is a pureblood heir."

"Purebloods," Ash said disdainfully. "I would've thought that you'd have better taste than that. Is he someone you work with at St. Mungo's?"

Takeshi flushed. "No, actually, it's your pack leader's fault that I met him in the first place. He's one of Lukas's students, and he serves detention at the clinic whenever he gets into trouble."

"A schoolboy?" Ash laughed. "Yes, now that you mention it, I've heard some of the other wolves talking about him; they call him Lukas's pet. Lukas says that he's a royal pain in the arse, but that he has some potential." He grinned and teased, "I never thought of you as a cradle-robber, Takeshi!"

"I know, it's so embarrassing," Takeshi groaned. "But he is eighteen, so technically I'm not robbing the cradle." Then he added gloomily, "Not that it matters. His parents are arranging a marriage for him. Some sort of political alliance that will give them clout at the Ministry."

"I can't imagine what you see in such a person," Ash said scornfully. "If he's fool enough to let you go, he's not worth your time."

"I told you, it's complicated," Takeshi sighed. "He's not a bad person. He's grown up with the typical pureblood prejudices, but he's slowly beginning to overcome them and think for himself. He admires Lukas, even though he'd never admit it out loud. I think...I think that he would like to be with me if he could, but he has a duty to his family."

"The purebloods care about nothing but power," Ash said.

Takeshi shook his head. "Some of them do, yes, but that's not the case with Aric. He doesn't want to get married, and he doesn't want a position at the Ministry. He would rather become a mediwizard to honor the memory of his late uncle, and I assure you, that's very rare for a pureblood of his rank. But he has a duty to his clan, to uphold their honor and carry on the family name." Ash still looked unconvinced, and Takeshi added, "Imagine that you fell in love with a human--"

"That would never happen," Ash instantly objected. "I don't care very much for humans." He smiled and tugged on Takeshi's braid. "Present company excepted, of course."

"For the sake of argument," Takeshi said patiently, "imagine that you did fall in love with a human. And then imagine that for some reason Lukas told you that you had to give him or her up for the good of the pack. What would you do?"

"I would do whatever I had to, in order to protect the pack," Ash said reluctantly. "But Lukas wouldn't ask me to make a choice like that. He wouldn't ask me to give up someone I loved just to gain political power."

"Then perhaps Lukas loves you and the rest of the pack better than the Dietriches love their son," Takeshi said quietly. "But Aric does love his family, the way you love the pack, whether or not they are deserving of it."

"I feel a little sorry for the boy, when you put it that way," Ash said grudgingly.

"Or perhaps I'm being unfair," Takeshi admitted. "I'm sure his parents think that they're doing what's best for him. In their minds, they're setting him up in a very secure, influential, and well-paying job. And if he openly took me as his lover, he'd be an outcast in pureblood society. Well, actually, they don't know about me, but if they did I'm sure they'd strongly object to a match between us. Aside from the fact that there would be no children to carry on the Dietrich name, I'm sure they'd be horrified at the thought of their son being scorned and reviled by the pureblood nobility."

"It doesn't seem to bother Snape and Lupin," Ash said.

"Remus isn't a pureblood," Takeshi replied, "and Professor Snape is a very unusual man. He doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks of him, which is very rare among the purebloods, and he was willing to risk estrangement from his family. I don't think that Aric is strong enough to endure that, and his family would almost certainly disown him if he took up with me."

Then they don't really love him," Ash said.

Takeshi shrugged. "They might see it as a form of tough love, trying to scare him into returning to the family fold. Or you could be right. But either way, they are Aric's pack, and he will not leave them for me."

"I still think he's a fool for choosing them over you," Ash insisted.

Takeshi smiled sadly. "And I'm a fool for falling in love with him, knowing what he is. But there's nothing logical about love."

"True," Ash said. "Look at Brian and Kyra; who could have ever pictured them as a couple? A year ago, I would have wagered that she'd kill him sooner than marry him." He idly toyed with Takeshi's braid, winding it around his wrist, and incidentally, pulling Takeshi's face closer to his.

"You know, that's not a handle," Takeshi chided, but he kissed his werewolf friend.

"But it's so convenient!" Ash laughed, and Takeshi laughed with him. "That's better," Ash said. "I'm afraid I can't help you with your pureblood lover." He sat up in bed and pulled Takeshi onto his lap. "Unless you'd like me to beat him up for you?" he asked hopefully.

"I appreciate the thought, Ash," Takeshi laughed. "But I would rather you didn't."

"Too bad," Ash sighed. "But perhaps I can help take your mind off things, at least for a few hours." They kissed, and Ash gently ran a finger down Takeshi's spine, causing him to gasp softly, arching his back and tilting his head back. He heard Ash growl, felt Ash's lips brush against his neck, then felt sharp teeth lightly scraping the skin on his throat. Takeshi moaned with mingled fear and pleasure, certain that Ash was about to bite him, and once again he felt that sense of not-quite-rightness. He did want to be bitten, to be claimed by his mate...only Ash was not his mate.

Instead of biting him, Ash gently kissed the hollow of his throat. "It is not my place to claim you," the werewolf said with a regretful sigh. "That is for your mate to do, and I am not he. But we can still give each other pleasure, for this one night." He wrapped his arms around Takeshi, pulling him closer.

Takeshi suddenly noticed something hard nudging up against him from below as he shifted his weight slightly on Ash's lap, and he gasped in surprise.

The werewolf laughed and grinned at him. "I know you've been with Kian. Didn't he teach you anything about a werewolf's stamina? I can see not. Tsk, tsk, I'm very disappointed in our young friend." He pressed his lips against Takeshi's ear and whispered, "You're always very interested in learning about our kind. Let me teach you a few things about werewolf mating habits."

Takeshi already knew about the werewolves' greater-than-human strength, but experienced it firsthand as Ash grabbed him by the waist and easily lifted him up off his lap as if he weighed no more than Max did. Then the werewolf slowly lowered him back down, and Takeshi groaned as he felt Ash's hard length sliding into him.

"Oh, Ash," he whispered huskily.

The werewolf grinned at him mischievously. "So you remember my name now, do you?"

Takeshi groaned, in embarrassment this time, and buried his face against Ash's shoulder. "Oh God, I'm never going to live that down!"

Ash laughed, a good-natured and playful sound. "Well then, perhaps I should call you by another name, if it will make you feel less guilty."

Takeshi lifted his head off Ash's shoulder, curiosity overriding embarrassment. "And what name would you like to call me by?"

"Hmm," Ash said, thinking it over. "That purple-haired wench was rather fetching. You know, the Auror that Lukas asked me to meet."

"Tonks?" Takeshi asked incredulously.

"Yes, that was her name," Ash agreed. "She's the most eccentric witch or wizard I've ever met. She said that I ought to work for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department at the Ministry of Magic, and what's more, she actually seemed serious about it. And she didn't seem the least bit afraid or disgusted when she met me, as most purebloods usually are."

"She's not a pureblood," Takeshi corrected him. "Her mother is a pureblood, but her father is a Muggle-born."

"Ah, I suppose that explains it."

"I hate to have to be the one to break it to you, but she already has a boyfriend," Takeshi said.

"The bald black wizard?" Ash asked. "Yeah, I kind of figured. I was in a bad mood that day and I was a bit rude to her, and he seemed very protective of her, more than someone who was just a coworker or even a friend would be."

"So that's your type?" Takeshi asked. "Girls with spiky violet hair?"

"Or boys with long black hair," Ash said, grinning. "I'm not picky."

"I feel ever so flattered," Takeshi said sarcastically.

"You should be--Tonks," Ash retorted, and Takeshi burst into laughter.

"As much as I like Tonks, I think it might kill my libido if I have to pretend to be her while we're having sex."

Takeshi was still straddling Ash's lap, and without warning, the werewolf thrust into him with a sudden upward jerk of his hips. Takeshi moaned, finding that there was nothing wrong with his libido, after all. The second time was much better, making love face-to-face in each other's arms, and despite Ash's teasing, neither of them called the other by the wrong name. And if it was not the all-consuming joy of making love with one's soulmate, there was still laughter and affection and friendship. Takeshi was touched by Ash's concern for him, which proved that the werewolves really did think of him as one of the pack, which was quite an honor, as they didn't trust outsiders readily, especially cynical Ash. And for tonight at least, that was enough for Takeshi. He fell asleep in Ash's arms, feeling content and at peace for the first time since he'd had the disturbing dream about the black wolf.

When Takeshi woke up the next morning, Ash was gone, but he had left a note on the nightstand that said, "I enjoyed gazing upon the stars and moon with you." Takeshi laughed; perhaps Ash might not have made a bad crane, after all. Then he laughed again at the thought of the werewolf running amongst the crane people and turning their society upside-down. Although their princess, Chizuru, was already doing that well enough on her own, first by leaving her home to become a teacher, and then by becoming engaged to her tengu colleague, Karasu.

It was a good thing; they needed to be shaken up a little--as did the purebloods in England. And changes were slowly taking place, but not fast enough to help Takeshi and Aric. 

Simultaneously finding and losing the one who seemed destined to be his lifemate still hurt very much, but now Takeshi was able to draw comfort from his friendship with the werewolves--not just Ash, but all of them. They had thrown the party for his sake as well as Lukas's, after all. A smile that was both sad and tender crossed his lips. He had been spending too much time alone of late; he would stop by and have dinner with his parents tonight, and perhaps on his next day off, he would take the Portkey to Japan to visit his brother--and to pick up some bottles of sake as a gift for the werewolves.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Easter party at Snape Manor; Aric argues with his family over the betrothal; a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff; and a rampaging Graphorn in Diagon Alley.

Lady Selima showed up at Hogwarts one afternoon to see Snape and Lukas. They gathered together in the Potions Master's quarters, along with Lupin, Dylan, and Theo.

"What is it this time, Mother?" Snape asked impatiently. "I told you before, I'm quite busy this time of year, preparing the students for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Whatever it is, couldn't it have waited until Easter break?"

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin scolded. "Is that any way to speak to your mother?"

Snape glared at his lover as the boys tried to hide their smiles. "Never mind, Professor," Selima said calmly. "I'm quite used to my son's rudeness by now. And no, Severus, it could not have waited until Easter break, because I wanted to discuss plans for having a party at the Manor during the break."

"A party!" Snape cried in horror. "But you promised that we wouldn't have any parties until Theodore graduated! And stop laughing, Lupin! It's not one bit amusing!"

"Circumstances have changed, Severus," Selima said, and turned her gaze upon Lukas. "You may thank your friend Cyril for that."

"Me?" Lukas said, taken aback. "What did I do?"

"You howled on the Hogwarts grounds during the last full moon, that's what you did!" Selima said tartly.

"Oh, so you know about that?" Lukas asked sheepishly.

"The entire wizarding world knows about it!" Selima snapped. "Your foolishness has dealt a major setback to the trial!"

"Look, I've already been lectured by Morrigan," Lukas said irritably. "I know it was a stupid thing to do, and I'm sorry, but I can't change the past!"

"No, but you can change the future," Selima said firmly. "We must undo the damage that your little wolfish escapade did."

"And how, pray tell, is a party going to accomplish that?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"Why, that should be obvious," Selima retorted. "We are going to introduce Cyril into high society. I am going to invite all the most important people in the wizarding world, and he is going to prove to them that he can behave like a proper pureblood Lord." Lukas was staring at her with a growing look of horror, one that rivaled Snape's. Selima glared at him, and continued in a steely voice, "You will be on your best behavior. You will be charming and witty. If someone insults you, you will not growl at or bite him. Instead, you will respond as a pureblood would, with a contemptuous look or subtle but scathing retort that will cut him down to size. You will remind people that you are a hero of the war, and that you are Cynric Diggory's son. You will prove that you are fit to inherit your father's title. You will be such a paragon of Lordliness, that even those who despise you will be impressed in spite of themselves. Is that clear?" Her voice seemed to say, in no uncertain terms, that he would obey whether he liked it or not.

Lupin looked at his stunned friend, and got the impression of a very cowed wolf, with drooping ears and tail, and clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"Yes, Lady Selima," Lukas said meekly.

"Well, if this is for Diggory's benefit, then you won't need me," Snape said, sounding relieved.

"You are the Lord of the Manor, Severus!" Selima said sharply. "Of course your presence will be required!" Snape groaned out loud.

"At least I'll have a chance to wear the dress robes I got for Christmas," Dylan said cheerfully, and Snape glared at his son.

"Am I invited?" Lupin asked hopefully.

"I'm not going to this party if Lupin isn't," Snape immediately said, sounding more like a sulky child than either a Potions Master or Lord of the Snape family.

"Of course Professor Lupin is invited," Selima said impatiently. "Who else would keep you in line?"

Lupin smiled sweetly at Snape, who glowered fiercely at him. 

"However," Selima continued, "I have to ask the two of you to refrain from dancing together at the party. That sort of thing may go over at Hogwarts, but--"

"There's going to be dancing at the party?!" Snape and Lukas wailed in chorus, and Lupin burst out laughing. Dylan and Theo tried to be a little more discreet, but weren't very successful; Dylan had to fake a coughing fit to hide his laughter, while Theodore made little choking noises as he tried to muffle his.

"Of course there will be dancing; this is a formal party!" Selima snapped. She gave Lukas critical look. "You do know how to dance, don't you?"

"Er...well...sort of...I mean, nothing fancy, just casual dancing among friends..."

"'Sort of' is not good enough," Selima said sternly. "You need to become proficient enough that the pureblood guests won't be able to find fault with your dancing. We don't have very long...only a couple of weeks. Hmm...the Slytherin girls will be familiar with the types of formal dances that--"

"I am not taking dancing lessons from my students!" Lukas said adamantly.

"Well, I suppose it would not really be appropriate," Selima admitted. Then her expression brightened. "I know! I'll ask Professor Blackmore to practice with you. She is of good family; she knows the dances, and she'll be able to teach you the basic patterns even if she's a little rusty."

"You're presuming a bit, Mother," Snape said. "What if Branwen isn't interested in giving dancing lessons?"

"Then I will teach Cyril myself," Selima replied. "I can take the Floo to the school in the afternoons, or he could come over to the Manor. I just thought that Professor Blackmore would be a more convenient partner since she's already here at the school."

Lukas looked even more horrified at the prospect of dancing lessons with Selima, and Lupin almost started laughing again. He wondered whether Branwen would be amused or offended to learn that Lukas found Selima even more intimidating than her. Like Severus, she seemed to pride herself on her terrifying reputation. Still, if anyone could hold their own against her, it was probably Selima. The Hogwarts students ought to be grateful that Lady Snape had never considered taking up teaching as a profession.

"I will ask Branwen to help me," Lukas said quickly.

"Good," Selima said. "I want you to stop by the Manor once school gets out so I can check on your progress."

"Not to brag," Lupin said, "but we werewolves seem to have a natural sense of agility and grace." He smiled at his friend. "I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time, Lukas."

"We'll hold the party towards the end of the break, on a Saturday night," Selima said. "That will give us a little extra time to prepare."

"And what is the occasion, Mother?" Snape asked pointedly. "Or I should say, what excuse will you put on the invitations? Unless you intend to call it 'the werewolf's coming-out party'."

"You and I could have a coming-out party," Lupin joked.

"The whole bloody wizarding world already knows about us, Lupin," Snape grumbled.

Selima gave the two of them an exasperated look. "It will be a party to celebrate the coming of spring, of course," she said impatiently.

"Oh, how nice," Lupin said, clapping his hands together. "Can we have an Easter egg hunt?"

He had only been teasing her a little, but to his surprise, he received a thoughtful look rather than the withering glare he was expecting. "I'll consider it," Selima said. She rose to her feet, ignoring the stunned silence that followed her statement. "I will handle the preparations and send out the invitations, Severus," Selima said coolly. "You need only show up and behave yourself."

"I can hardly wait," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"But what about...you know?" Dylan whispered to Snape.

"Is there some problem, Severus?" Selima asked.

Snape hesitated, and the boys' eyes flickered over to Lupin for a second. "We had certain plans for that weekend, Mother, but don't worry about it. We can attend your party, but we need to return to the school Sunday morning."

Selima frowned, looking a little disappointed. "You can't stay for dinner, or at least lunch?"

Lupin grinned. He leaned over and said in a stage whisper, "It's my birthday that Sunday, you see, and I believe they're planning a surprise party for me. But don't tell them I said so, because I wouldn't want to ruin their fun."

Selima and Lukas looked startled, Snape blushed, and the boys grinned sheepishly. "Well, then," Selima said briskly, "you can have the party at the Manor. A much smaller and more casual affair, of course--the family and perhaps a few friends. Owl me the details." Then she swept out of the room without another word.

"I can see where your penchant for dramatic exits comes from," Lupin observed.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape growled, then glared at Lukas. "This is all your fault!"

Lukas groaned, "Please, kill me now and get it over with! A pureblood party--that's got to be a worse torture than anything the Death Eaters could have come up with!"

"Don't tempt me, Diggory," Snape snarled. "The only thing that's stopping me from casting a Killing Curse at you right now is the fact that my mother would be furious, and I prefer to have her mad at you rather than at me. Besides, that would be too quick and merciful a death. No, if I have to suffer, you're going to suffer along with me."

Lupin could no longer hold back his laughter, and collapsed on the floor, holding his stomach as he laughed hysterically.

"Oh, shut up Lupin!" Snape and Lukas both shouted at him, which only made him laugh even harder.

*** 

After completing their detention at the clinic, Snape sentenced Draco and Aric to gathering potion ingredients for him in the Forbidden Forest, under the somewhat dubious protection and supervision of Hagrid and Fang. Aric had a sneaking suspicion that Hagrid still held him partially responsible for the death of the Porvora in the exploding Christmas present prank, or at least associated Aric with the death of his little pet even if he hadn't really been responsible for it.

He had heard from some of the other students that the Care of Magical Creatures instructor still mourned the loss of the little furball. So he wouldn't have been surprised if Hagrid was half-hoping that he would get eaten by some monster in the forest; actually, it wouldn't surprise him if that had been Snape's intention all along. Snape had been dying to get rid of him ever since he'd started at Hogwarts, and since he'd failed to get Aric expelled, perhaps he was resorting to more drastic measures. Then again, maybe not, because Draco was something of a teacher's pet, unless Snape had gotten fed up with all Malfoy's whining.

Aric was almost disappointed when nothing ate them, after all. At least it would have put him out of his misery. Instead, they suffered nothing more serious than the discomfort of slogging through the slush and mud (winter was only slowly and grudgingly giving way to spring) to gather the herbs and roots that Snape wanted. Draco, of course, complained loudly during their detention, but Aric was grateful that he didn't have to face Takeshi anymore.

Before long, his detention was over and school was letting out for the Easter break, but Aric was not happy, because he knew that he would have to meet his future fiancee and in-laws. However, when he returned home, he received a pleasant surprise.

"Edward was sent on a diplomatic mission to France, and his family went with him," Alison Dietrich sighed. "Unfortunately, that means that the betrothal negotiations will have to wait until he comes back. On the other hand, such an important assignment means that the Minister of Magic holds Edward in high esteem, which bodes well for your future, my son. It's a pity that you didn't get to meet Miranda, though."

Aric was filled with such a profound sense of relief that he nearly fainted. He suddenly wondered if this was a coincidence, or if Lupin had come through for him and pulled some strings on his behalf at the Ministry as he had promised. 

His relief must have shown on his face, because his father gave him a wry smile. "I can see how disappointed you are not to meet your bride-to-be," Karl Dietrich said.

Aric grinned sheepishly, and his parents laughed good-naturedly. Buoyed by his reprieve and his parents' good mood, Aric gathered up the courage to make one last appeal to them.

"Listen, Mum, Dad--about the betrothal, nothing's settled yet, right?"

"Not yet," Karl said, giving his son a wary, measuring look. "But the talks have gone well, so far."

Aric took a deep breath, then exhaled and said, "I know I should have talked it over with you before, but I didn't know that you were going to arrange a marriage for me this soon." He tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable; he wanted to sound mature, not like a whining child.

"It was rather unexpected for all of us," Alison said sympathetically. "But the opportunity arose, and we had to take advantage of it right away or risk losing it."

"You see," Aric explained, fighting to keep his voice steady although his heart was pounding with nervousness, "I really want to become a mediwizard." His mother opened her mouth to speak, and Aric quickly continued, "I know you heard about it from Yvonne's mother, and you should have heard it from me first. I'm sorry. I want you to know that this isn't a whim; I've thought long and hard about it. I've got good grades in Potions and Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts--all the required courses for a mediwizard. I got tested by a Healer at St. Mungo's, and he said that I have the Healing Gift, like Rafe. It's a rare gift, and it would be a shame to waste it. The Healer says that I'm guaranteed a job there as long as I do well on my N.E.W.T.s, and that there's plenty of room for advancement--" That last was a bit of an exaggeration, but he needed to throw in something to appease his parents' sense of ambition.

Karl held up a hand, as if to stem his tide of words. "I'm sorry, son," he said quietly. "I did indeed think it was a whim. I didn't realize how badly you wanted to become a mediwizard."

"Then you'll reconsider?" Aric asked hopefully. "About the betrothal and the Ministry position, I mean?"

But his hopes were dashed when Karl shook his head. "I truly am sorry, Aric, but an opportunity like this comes along only once in a lifetime."

"But Father--" Aric cried in a pleading tone, forgetting his resolve to sound mature.

"If you turn down this position," Karl said, "it will likely offend Edward Tierney, and you will never get another chance at a Ministry job."

"But I don't _want_ a Ministry job!" Aric pointed out.

Karl glared at his son, his sympathy vanishing. "Depending on how much Tierney's influence grows, not just you, but the entire Dietrich family could be shut out of the Ministry, perhaps for generations. Even if you don't want a Ministry position, maybe someday your sister or your cousins or even your children might want to apply there, and they will find the way barred because you offended a high-ranking official!"

"But surely we could find a way to turn him down without offending him," Aric begged. "Nothing's been finalized yet, you said. Tell him that I had already signed a contract with St. Mungo's before he offered the betrothal, and you didn't know about it. Or--I don't know, surely there must be some excuse you can come up with!"

"Any excuse I could come up with would sound exactly like what it is--an excuse," Karl said impatiently. "No pureblood in his right mind would turn down such an offer, and Edward knows it. And I don't intend to turn it down, even if I could manage to do it without offending him. You must think not just of yourself, my son, but of your family. This alliance is very important to us. We have fallen in status, thanks to our feud with the Notts. Lucius Malfoy shut us out of any position of importance in the British wizarding world. But now that the Death Eaters have fallen, we have a chance to regain what is ours--and more. This alliance is our first step in rebuilding our power, and we need to do it now, before someone else fills the vacuum that Malfoy and his cronies have left behind. If we don't seize this chance now, we might well languish in obscurity, watching our power and wealth gradually diminish until we become like the Zabinis, with nothing left to them but their blood and their name. This is very important, Aric. You are ensuring the future of this family for generations to come."

Aric's first thought, although he did not speak it aloud, was, "Why do I have to sacrifice myself for the generations to come?" And the second was that if their decline in status was due to their feud with the Notts, then maybe his family shouldn't have married Aunt Marta to Thaddeus in the first place. He sulked for a moment, wondering why he should have to pay for his grandparents' error in judgment, when it suddenly occurred to him that if his grandparents were at fault for marrying Marta to Thaddeus, then they were also indirectly responsible for Rafe's death. Which would mean that it wasn't Theo's fault, or at least, not entirely his fault.

That was too staggering a concept for his mind to wrap itself around right now, and he shoved that traitorous thought to the back of his mind, to be dealt with later. He frantically tried to come up with something that would change his father's mind. "Uncle Rafe was a mediwizard," he said, knowing that he was grasping at straws. 

"Rafe was the youngest son, not the heir of the family," Karl said sternly. "He did not have the same responsibilities that you and I do." He sighed sadly. "And my parents spoiled him--we all did. We indulged him much more than we should have, let him fill his head with Gryffindor notions of idealism and nobility..."

"Please, Father," Aric said desperately. "Please let me carry on Uncle Rafe's work; I know it would make him happy--" Appealing to a Slytherin's sentimentality was sheer desperation indeed, but there was the slightest chance that it might actually work, if he could invoke Rafe's name and appeal to the soft spot that his father had always had for his younger brother.

But Karl just shook his head, and Alison said soothingly, "There are other ways of honoring your uncle, dear. You know that the Ministry provides some funding and research grants for St. Mungo's. If you work hard, then maybe one day you will be in charge of such funding, and can do far more good at the hospital than you could as a mediwizard. In fact, perhaps you could have them name a wing after Rafe!"

Aric smiled bitterly; that was exactly the response he had expected from his parents, although it was not the one he had hoped for. His mother continued chattering in a bright voice, seemingly oblivious to--or perhaps just ignoring--the expression on his face.

"We could make a donation to St. Mungo's to celebrate your betrothal, once it's finalized. Of course, I don't think that we can afford an entire wing just yet, but we could add a plaque to the wall of donors. A gold plaque, one that says, 'In Memory of Rafe Dietrich'--wouldn't that be nice, dear?"

There was a large display on one wall of the reception area of St. Mungo's to honor the people who made large donations to the hospital, made up of plaques engraved with the names of the donors--or the names of loved ones in whose memory the donations were made. The display was divided up into three sections, as the plaques were made of copper, silver, or gold, depending on the size of the donation. A gold plaque was quite costly, but still, Aric couldn't believe that they were trying to buy him off with a plaque, the way that one might try to pacify a child with a toy or a sweet.

"You don't understand!" Aric shouted in frustration. "This is important to me! I want to actually be able to heal people, not just stick a plaque on a wall!"

"I understand that we made a mistake by spoiling Rafe as a child," a cold voice said. 

Aric looked up, startled, and saw that his grandfather had entered the room unnoticed.

"As Karl says," Roderick Dietrich continued, "we indulged Rafe more than we should have, because he was so charming, and the baby of the family. I regret that now, for I see that he has been a bad influence on the younger generation."

"How can you say that?" Aric demanded indignantly. "There's nothing wrong with being a mediwizard; it's an honorable profession!"

"There is nothing wrong with it in and of itself," Roderick said calmly. "But Rafe's choice of it was an unfortunate extension of the Gryffindor altruism he picked up at Hogwarts." He grimaced. "It's my fault. If I had been stricter with him as a child, he would have gone into Slytherin as he should have, and he would not have picked up all those ridiculous Gryffindor ideals--and he would not have done something so monumentally foolish as to confront a Death Eater face-to-face." 

Aric stared at his grandfather in shock; Roderick had never openly criticized Rafe before, although he had occasionally sighed and rolled his eyes over his youngest son's Gryffindor ways. But it sounded like he was saying that it was Rafe's own fault that he had been killed, and that was wrong...wasn't it?

"Healing is a respectable profession, yes," Roderick said. "But it does not confer as much honor upon oneself and one's family as a position in the Ministry of Magic would."

"This is my life you're talking about!" Aric exclaimed, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Don't I have any say in it?"

"No, you do not!" Roderick snapped, his eyes cold and hard. He was no longer the kindly, indulgent grandfather that Aric was familiar with, but the Lord of the Dietrich family. "Being a member of a pureblood family comes with obligations as well as privileges, Aric. I think you have forgotten that. You live in a fine mansion, where everything you need is provided for you: food, clothing, that expensive broomstick you wanted when you joined the Durmstrang Quidditch team, not to mention those fencing lessons that you just had to have." Roderick shook his head slightly. "Another sign of Rafe's influence on you. I should have nipped that in the bud before it started."

"But Grandfather--"

"You lived in comfort, never having to work a day in your life," Roderick continued inexorably, "while there are others in the wizarding world who live in squalor, scrambling to make ends meet. You accepted the wealth, power, and privilege that come with being a Dietrich, and never asked the price. I doubt that it ever occurred to you that there was a price to pay, but I am telling you now that there is, and the price is this: as your family has cared for and provided for you, so in turn will you provide for your family. I loved Rafe, too, but I will not allow you to jeopardize the future of this family on a sentimental whim. You will do your duty to this family. You will marry the Tierney girl and take the Ministry position that her father is offering, or by Merlin, I will disown you, and you will never set foot in this house again!"

Aric stared at his grandfather in shock. He had known, intellectually, that his family would probably disown him if he refused to go through with the marriage alliance, but deep down, he had not truly believed that they would actually do it. He suddenly remembered something that Lupin had said once, when they had been arguing about Theo: "You speak with the self-assurance of someone who has always been loved and protected by his family, Aric." He had always been certain of his family's love; so certain that he had never really thought about it, and had simply taken it for granted. For the first time he realized that maybe they didn't love him quite as much as he--and Lupin--had thought they did.

Alison gasped in shock and dismay, and Karl said tentatively, "Father, surely that's going a little too far--"

"Silence!" Roderick roared, and Aric's parents fell silent. They looked unhappy, but did not try to argue further. Aric knew, with a sickening sense of certainty, that his grandfather was not bluffing, and that his parents would not try to stop him if he followed through on his threat to disown Aric. "I will not coddle or spoil the boy any further!" Roderick turned to glare at Aric. "You are no longer a boy, but a man now, Aric. It is time to step up and do a man's duty." He smiled grimly. "And if you refuse, you will grow up soon enough, because I will throw you out on the street with nothing more than the clothes on your back, and you will learn what it is like to actually have to work for a living. Do you understand me, Aric?"

"Yes, sir," Aric whispered, and fled the room; no one tried to stop him. He ran to his room, slammed the door behind him, and flung himself down on the bed. He curled up in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, shaking with fear and anger and misery. He couldn't stand the thought of working at the Ministry, spending all his time sucking up to the people in power rather than working real magic. 

He couldn't stand the thought of spending the rest of his life with Miranda Tierney; he already loathed the sight of her face, and he hadn't even met her yet. Unbidden, an image sprang into his mind, not of a girl, but of a young man clad in the lime-green robes that were the uniform of a St. Mungo's worker, with black hair tied back in a long braid that nearly reached his waist. He pictured a face with a cheerful smile and almond-shaped brown eyes framed by gold wire-rimmed glasses.

Aric groaned in despair, unable to deny it any longer. It wasn't just the prospect of a Ministry job that bothered him, and he didn't really hate Miranda. If it hadn't been for Takeshi, he would have tried to make the best of the situation, maybe even tried to befriend his future bride. Aric was no stranger to mischief himself, and at one time, he might have found Miranda's wild reputation a little appealing. 

But now, he could not imagine his life without the young mediwizard in it, which was strange. They had known each other for several months, and corresponded regularly through letters, but when you added up the time that they had actually spent together in person, it came out to less than three weeks. Surely three weeks was not enough time to fall in love with someone. Surely three weeks was not enough time for someone to get under your skin so deeply that the thought of losing them turned your life upside-down.

But maybe it was not so surprising, after all, Aric admitted to himself after he thought about it for a little while. Takeshi was the only friend he had who truly liked Aric for himself, and not because of his family and his wealth. There was genuine affection between himself and his Durmstrang friends, but Aric knew that they would never have given him the time of day if he had not been a pureblood of a wealthy family. They had first gathered together because their families were of similar rank and political aspirations; friendship had followed later.

But Takeshi didn't care about rank or blood purity or politics. He liked Aric for himself, although only Merlin knew why. He put with Aric in spite of his arrogance and bad moods, for no reason that Aric could see other than friendship. Takeshi owed no obligation to the Dietrich family, and unlike Lupin or Diggory, he had no reason to look after Aric out of a sense of duty and responsibility towards a student. No, Takeshi's friendship was unconditional--a very rare thing in the world of the pureblood nobility. As Aric had just discovered, even the love of his family came with strings attached.

He couldn't bear to lose Takeshi, and he somehow knew without anyone needing to tell him, that he could never ask the mediwizard to become his mistress, or whatever the male equivalent of a mistress was called. He doubted that his friend would ever accept such a role, and besides, he deserved better. He deserved to have a lover that he didn't have to share with a wife. He deserved someone who truly loved him, who wasn't ashamed to be with him in public.

But the thought of Takeshi being with someone else filled him with a jealousy so intense that it physically hurt--a literal ache in his heart, and a pain in his gut, as if someone were tying his intestines into knots. If this was what love was like, Aric wanted no part of it. He had never been in love before. Although he had dallied with both boys and girls at Durmstrang, he had taken care never to get attached to any of them, precisely because he knew that he might be called upon to make a marriage alliance someday. 

But he had never thought to guard himself against Takeshi, because he had not seemed like a danger. It hadn't been like the poets said; there had been no feelings of sparks or fireworks, no sense of being struck with love at first sight. The mediwizard had quietly wormed his way into Aric's heart, without Aric ever being aware of it until it was too late. He clenched his fists and thought to himself desperately that he did not want to be in love with a boy, someone who was a totally inappropriate romantic partner. He didn't want to be in love with a girl, either, even if he could have magically made himself fall in love with his fiancee. He didn't want to fall in love with anyone if it hurt as badly as this.

But the feelings would not go away, no matter how much he willed them to.

Although Aric could not imagine life without Takeshi, he couldn't imagine life without his family either, to never see his parents and grandparents and sister again, except perhaps to receive a pitying or contemptuous look from them if they chanced to pass each other on the street. He wondered what Erika would think; would she be angry at him, like Grandfather was, or would she be happy if he was disowned, because she would inherit the title with him out of the way? And Grandfather was right; he had relied on his family all his life. Could he really survive and make a living on his own, without help from anyone? 

_You would have Takeshi,_ he told himself, but maybe he was assuming too much. A brief look of longing and despair had passed between them, but there had been no words spoken, no promises made. What if Takeshi didn't want a permanent lover, didn't want to be saddled with an outcast, disgraced former pureblood heir without a penny to his name? Even if Takeshi really did want him, what if Aric turned out to be totally useless without his family's wealth and name to back him up? What if he became a burden to his lover, and Takeshi got tired of him? Then Aric would have nothing. No--Takeshi was too kind to simply throw him out on the street, but to kept around out of pity, as a charity case, was a fate worse than death.

_I am a coward,_ Aric thought miserably. Maybe he wasn't fit to be the Dietrich heir if he didn't have the strength to either resolve to do his duty or make the sacrifices necessary in order to be with the one he loved.

But it wasn't just fear of actually having to work for a living, or at least, not solely fear. He loved his family and he didn't want to lose them. But he didn't want to lose his dearest friend, either, the only person who cared about him simply for himself, and not for what Aric might be able to do for him.

He just didn't know what to do, and he had never felt so alone in all his life. There was no one he could turn to for advice; the person he would have felt most comfortable confiding in--Takeshi--was out for obvious reasons. And just as obviously, he couldn't confide in his family, either. He had no friends at Hogwarts, and his friends at Durmstrang wouldn't understand; they would regard him with disbelief or disgust if they knew that he was even contemplating giving up a Ministry position, not to mention his entire inheritance, for a male lover. 

Then he remembered that Lupin had often tried to befriend him, but the werewolf was not a pureblood or a Slytherin. He had been a pauper before Dumbledore had given him a job at Hogwarts, and he wouldn't understand what it was like to be torn between love and duty, to risk losing not just your family, but your name, rank, and inheritance. 

Then it occurred to Aric that there were two people at Hogwarts who had been faced with the same choice and probably knew exactly what he was going through: Snape and Theo. Snape had already been disowned once, and had defied the entire wizarding world by taking Lupin openly as his lover. And Theo had risked disgrace by kissing Blaise in front of everyone at the Yule Ball in order to prove his love for the other boy.

He wanted to ask Snape what it had been like to lose his family and rank and inheritance, everything that made a pureblood noble what he was. He wanted to ask Snape how he had survived alone and in disgrace, for nearly two decades. He wanted to ask Theo why he had given up the Nott name and inheritance to become a Snape; he no longer thought it was because of greed and ambition, as he had first assumed. He wanted to ask Theo if he had been afraid of being disowned when he had kissed Blaise at the Ball. He wanted to ask Snape and Theo how they had kept Lady Selima from repudiating both of them when she found out. He wanted to ask them how they managed to bear the insults and snide jokes and malicious gossip. He wanted to know how they found the courage to be open about whom they loved.

But why should his cousin help him, after the way Aric had treated him? Aric flushed with shame, remembering how he had sneered at Theo and called him a queer. He had lashed out at his cousin, he now realized, because he had seen something in Theo that he had recognized in himself. He hadn't wanted to admit to himself that he might want something more serious than "fun" from another guy. He hadn't wanted to admit to himself that he might be attracted to Takeshi, specifically. Because Takeshi was not the kind of person you could use for a night's pleasure and then forget about, like the boys he had fooled around with at Durmstrang.

Aric didn't hate or despise Theo because he was gay; he was jealous because Theo wasn't afraid to admit to everyone what he was. He had hated Theo for causing Rafe's death, but now he was no longer sure that it was really Theo's fault. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. He wished, for the first time, that he and Theo had not been enemies, so that he could have had at least one friend to confide in.

Aric laughed bitterly at himself; how typically Slytherin of him, to want to befriend someone only when that person had something that he wanted. He probably deserved Theo's contempt. And even if Aric hadn't already been in trouble with the Potions Master over getting caught drinking on the Astronomy Tower, Snape wouldn't want to help him after Aric had repeatedly insulted his son, not to mention called Snape himself a "Death Eater pervert".

Aric lay on his bed, weeping softly, feeling utterly miserable. He didn't know how long he lay there crying, but it must have been hours, because eventually he noticed that his eyes and throat were sore, and the sunlight outside the window was fading to dusk. A short time later his mother came and knocked lightly on the door, saying, "Dinnertime, Aric." When Aric didn't respond, she said in a worried voice, "Please, dear, you must come and eat something."

Aric just lay there silently on the bed, and he heard his father say in a gruff but not unkind voice, "Let the boy be, dear. Missing one meal won't kill him."

"But he's a growing boy," Alison protested, her voice and her footsteps fading away down the hall. Eventually, Aric drifted off into an uneasy sleep haunted by restless dreams. He dreamed of himself and Erika and Theo playing together as children, and of Rafe, gently scolding them for fighting with each other. He dreamed that he was standing on the street with his family, and they all turned their backs on him and walked away as he begged them to stop. He dreamed that he was standing at the altar with Miranda, about to be wed. He turned and looked back down the aisle, and saw Takeshi standing there, smiling at him sadly. "I wish you joy in your life, Aric," he said, then turned and walked away, ignoring the hand that Aric stretched out towards him.

"No, don't go!" Aric cried, then he woke suddenly and sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. He cast a cleaning spell on his pajamas to dry them out, then paced around the room, trying to settle his nerves before he went back to sleep; he did not want any more dreams like the ones he'd just had. As he paced, he suddenly noticed that someone had left a plate of sandwiches just inside the bedroom door; either his father or his mother must have brought it while he was sleeping. 

Aric had been a mischievous child, and had been sent to bed without his supper many times as punishment for some prank he'd pulled, or for fighting with one of his playmates. But one of his parents would usually relent and secretly bring him a snack late at night. Once, both his mother and his father had brought him food--at different times, unbeknownst to the other. Aric stared at the plate and burst into tears at that simple sign of affection, at that reminder of happier times during his childhood, when he had been absolutely certain of his place in the world.

*** 

Draco returned home for the Easter break, feeling a little uncomfortable about knowing his mother's secret. But Narcissa obviously didn't suspect anything, because she greeted him at the train station with a big hug and kiss as usual. And as usual, he squirmed and protested, "Mum, please don't embarrass me in public," but he didn't really mind, and in fact, he secretly liked it. Snape was right; even if he didn't have a father, he still had a mother who loved him. Now that the werewolf was out of their lives, everything would be fine and go back to the way it was supposed to be.

But Draco found that a few changes had taken place in his absence; changes that had nothing to do with the werewolf. When they returned home to Malfoy Manor, Narcissa presented him with a plate of sugar cookies, saying proudly, "I baked them myself this morning!"

"You...baked them?" Draco asked incredulously. "Yourself?"

"Yes," Narcissa said cheerfully. "Aileen's been teaching me how to cook." Draco just sat there with his mouth hanging open in shock, and his mother frowned at him anxiously. "Oh dear, are they burnt? I'm still getting the hang of this cooking thing..."

Draco quickly stuffed a cookie in his mouth and assured his mother that they tasted delicious. Half of the cookies were a dark brown, overcooked but at least not burnt black; the rest were pale and slightly underdone. But even if they had been raw or burnt to a crisp, Draco would still have eaten them all rather than hurt his mother's feelings. As it was, even if they weren't perfect, they were still edible, and keeping his mouth busy chewing gave him an excuse to remain silent and collect his thoughts while Narcissa explained what she had been up to while he was at school.

After they had lost their house-elf servant, Dobby, the Malfoys had relied on a combination of human servants and magical cleaning spells to maintain the mansion. However, after Lucius's arrest, it had been difficult to find people who wanted to work for the Malfoys, and besides, it had not been safe to allow strangers inside the Manor--strangers who might see things that they shouldn't and report them to the Aurors. So Narcissa had closed up most of the mansion and looked after the remaining rooms herself. Lucius had promised that it would only be temporary, until the Dark Lord took his place as the ruler of the wizarding world--and Lucius took his place as the Dark Lord's favored servant and right-hand man. Then Narcissa could have as many slaves as she liked to take care of the mansion. Lucius had laughed and said that perhaps he wouldn't kill Harry Potter's little friends; maybe he would spare their lives and keep them around to scrub the floors and clean the toilets. 

But the Dark Lord had fallen, and people no longer just avoided the Malfoys, they outwardly sneered at, and in some cases, even spat at them. Even the lowliest maidservants had turned their noses up at the idea of working for a Death Eater. So Narcissa had left the majority of the mansion closed up and continued as she had been doing. She had drawn the line at cooking, though, and instead purchased already-prepared meals, hoping that the cooks wouldn't realize that they were cooking for a pardoned Death Eater and spit in the food.

Aileen Pierce had taken pity on Narcissa and found a housekeeping service that would come in to clean and cook for the Malfoys. They were polite and efficient, but also cool and distant, and it was clear that they had only taken the job as a favor to Aileen. (The owner of the service was the sister of one of Liam Pierce's cauldron factory workers.) Narcissa explained to Draco that the housekeepers' attitudes made her uncomfortable, so she had dismissed them and taken over the chores herself.

Draco choked and coughed, spraying cookie crumbs from his mouth. "You...cleaning? The entire mansion?" he demanded, aghast at the thought of his aristocratic mother slaving away like a common servant.

"Well, not the entire mansion," Narcissa said with a smile. "I've left about half of it closed; the two of us don't really need that much space, and most of the time it's just me here while you're at school. And I don't need to do most of the actual cleaning myself; I've spent some time developing permanent automated cleaning spells. Of course, it was bit tricky getting the charms exactly right; you have to be very specific, or the spells have a tendency to knock over objects or sweep out things they're not supposed to. Getting the timing right was also a delicate matter, so that the spells go off at the same time every day. And invoking permanency takes a great deal of magical power, but eventually I got everything right."

She smiled proudly, and Draco said weakly, "That's great, Mum. But that must have been a lot of work."

Narcissa shrugged and said casually, "Well, I had a lot of time on my hands. It helped me keep busy."

And then Draco realized that his mother had not really developed a sudden fascination for cooking and cleaning. She had no job, no real social life, and she was living in this huge empty house all alone while Draco was at Hogwarts. She must be bored out of her wits.

"Mum?" he asked hesitantly. "Are people still shunning you? I thought things got a little better after Lord Severin's funeral."

"Lady Selima's acceptance has helped," Narcissa said. "And the fact that Arthur Weasley was friendly to me in public." She blushed, looking a little ashamed of herself. "Though I'm not sure why he was, after all the nasty things that Lucius and I said about the Weasleys in the past. Most people don't openly insult me anymore, but they still talk about me behind my back. They're polite to my face, but I can see them smirking, I can see the smug superiority in their eyes. I can't stomach the idea of having tea with people like that, knowing that they're secretly laughing at how far the Malfoys have fallen."

"Mum..." Draco said.

Narcissa must have seen the worry in his eyes, because she laughed gaily and said, "Oh, don't worry about me, Draco! I'm doing fine. I've been keeping busy with the cleaning spells, and I have tea two or three times a week with Aileen, and sometimes I have dinner with Sirius and Professor Blackmore. I also stop by Hogsmeade every now and then to visit Delia. I was the tiniest bit bored, so Aileen's been teaching me how to cook. It's much more practical than buying cooked meals, and I don't have worry that some cook or kitchen maid might decide to poison the food because they have a grudge against the Death Eaters. It's not so bad; it's sort of the same process and principle as brewing a potion, don't you think, dear? Of course, I wasn't that talented a Potions student in school, at least in comparison to Severus. But then, few people were." She smiled brightly at Draco. "Anyway, Aileen said I should start off with a few simple dishes, so I'm making a stew for dinner tonight."

Draco noticed that Narcissa's good cheer seemed a little forced, but he played along. "That sounds great, Mum. I can't wait to try it." Narcissa beamed at him, and he added, "Er...do you want some help? You said cooking is like making a potion, and I'm a good Potions student." In the past, Draco would never have demeaned himself by doing a servant's task, but he wanted to help his mother, partly out of filial affection, and partly out of self-preservation. He knew that his mother had received mediocre Potions grades in school, and he wanted dinner to be edible.

"Oh no, dear," Narcissa protested. "You just got back from school; I want you to relax. Besides, you're the Lord of the Manor now, and it's not appropriate for you to be working in the kitchen." She kissed him on the cheek. "You go and get settled in, and I'll take care of everything."

Draco didn't think that it was appropriate for the Lady of the Manor to be slaving away in the kitchen, either, but he didn't argue with his mother. And dinner was edible, if a little bland.

Narcissa frowned. "It doesn't taste quite the way Aileen's stew does. Maybe I should have added more salt, or a few more bay leaves."

"It's great, Mum, really," Draco assured her. In his mind, too little salt was better than too much. A little salt and pepper could be added to a plate of bland food, but it was impossible to take the salt out of food that was too salty.

"I'll get it right next time," Narcissa promised, and passed the salt shaker to Draco. Dessert, thank Merlin, was a store-bought cake.

Narcissa's cooking experiments continued over the break, and most of them were edible. A few of them got burnt, but usually the burnt part could be cut away or scraped off. But the burnt food did not disturb Draco nearly so much as his mother's behavior did. On the surface, she seemed cheerful, bustling about the kitchen or checking on the mansion's cleaning spells, although it was decidedly weird to see his mother acting like Molly Weasley. 

But beneath the surface, she seemed a little frantic, as if she were trying very hard to keep busy and keep up a good front for Draco's sake, much as she had tried to hide her worry from Draco while Lucius was imprisoned. He saw her sitting alone in the drawing room one night when she didn't realize that he was watching. There was a book open on her lap, but she wasn't reading it. Instead she just sat there staring at nothing in particular, looking tired and unhappy. That expression seemed familiar somehow, and Draco realized that he had often seen it on Diggory's face of late, ever since Draco had forced him to break up with Narcissa.

Narcissa informed Draco that they had received an invitation to a party at Snape Manor that weekend. She seemed excited about it, and Draco was happy, because he thought it would be good for his mother to get out of the house for a change. Such invitations were once commonplace for the Malfoys, but this was the first time that they'd been invited to an important party since Lucius's death. Narcissa was a little worried about how people would treat them, but Draco assured her that Professor Snape wouldn't let any of the guests be rude to her.

But Narcissa returned from tea at Aileen Pierce's house a few days later, looking pale and very upset. "We will not be attending the party at Snape Manor," she said tersely.

"Why not?" Draco asked, feeling puzzled. Had Lady Selima rescinded the invitation? But surely Snape wouldn't let her snub them that way.

"I have found out the reason behind the party," Narcissa said, her voice sounding odd--flat and hollow. "Ostensibly it is a party to celebrate the coming of spring, but its true purpose is to introduce Cyril Diggory, alias Lukas Bleddri, into society."

"What?!" Draco shouted.

"Lady Selima is throwing her full support behind the werewolf," Narcissa said. "No one really understands why she's so determined to help him, except that he's the son of one of her old friends, but still, it's very out of character for her." Her voice was starting to grow a bit shrill, and she paused to draw a deep breath. "In any case, I do not feel that it is appropriate for us to attend."

"I understand, Mother," Draco said, trying to keep his voice calm and indifferent. "Our reputation is damaged enough as it is. We should not be seen supporting a werewolf's claim to a pureblood title."

Narcissa looked surprised. "I thought that you liked Master Diggory. At least, you liked his Physical Defense classes well enough to ask me to buy you a sword."

Draco shrugged. "I like the classes well enough, but I don't especially like him. He's gotten rather full of himself lately, as if he's already won the title." Narcissa gave him a strange look, and Draco realized that he might have said too much. Draco smiled carelessly, as if none of this really concerned him. "I think it would be prudent to withhold our support until we see how things fall out. And besides, I don't really care to spend my free time associating with my teachers. Snape and Diggory will both be there, and probably Blackmore as well, and they're the strictest teachers in the school. It's like a Hogwarts student's worst nightmare!"

Draco laughed, and so did Narcissa, and they dropped the subject. But later that night, Draco was having trouble sleeping, and decided to go to the library to look for a book to read. He passed by his mother's bedroom along the way, and heard Narcissa weeping softly. He stood there paralyzed for a couple of minutes, then quietly tiptoed back to his own room. He lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling profoundly shaken. Could it be that his mother missed the werewolf? Could it be that she had actually cared about him...maybe even loved him? No, that couldn't be! His very proper pureblood mother could not possibly be in love with a beast! Except that she wasn't as proper as he had thought she was, or he wouldn't have seen her meeting Diggory at the lake in the first place.

Maybe she wasn't crying over the werewolf, Draco tried to tell himself. Maybe she was crying over her lost social status; maybe she was even crying because she missed his father. But Draco didn't really believe it. He tried to cover up his confusion with anger, telling himself that he'd kill the werewolf for making his mother cry.

Except...it was really Draco's fault that she was crying, wasn't it? Because he was the one who had forced Diggory to leave her. Draco tried to soothe his conscience, telling himself that it was good that he had interfered before things had gone any farther. The werewolf didn't care about her, after all; he would have ended up breaking her heart sooner or later.

But for some reason, Narcissa's weeping made him think of the lonely, mournful howls that he had heard on the night of the full moon. The howling--was that Diggory's way of weeping? Draco told himself not to be ridiculous; Diggory had been baying at the moon like a wolf because he was one. Because he was a beast. He didn't care about Narcissa.

But Draco's pesky conscience--which had been dormant for most of his life up until now; what a fine time for it to awaken--kept nagging at him. If Diggory didn't care about Narcissa, then why had he insisted that Draco not tell her that he knew about them? The proud werewolf leader had actually begged Draco not to say anything to her. He had taken all the blame upon himself, and had seemed quite anxious about sparing Narcissa's feelings. 

For the first time, Draco wondered why Diggory should care whether or not Narcissa's feelings were hurt if he had just been using her. At the time, Draco had been so furious that he hadn't stopped to think about why Diggory had chosen Narcissa as his conquest. In the back of his mind, he had vaguely assumed that Diggory, who despised most of the pureblood elite, had taken pleasure in seducing and despoiling a pureblood woman. But if that were the case, wouldn't Diggory want to expose Narcissa's secret and humiliate her rather than protect her? Could it be that he had made a mistake by breaking them up?

But Draco couldn't picture the werewolf being a part of their life, living in the mansion with them, sitting in his father's chair, sleeping in his father's bed... Draco shuddered a little at that thought, and the image it conjured up, of Narcissa and Diggory together in bed. And what the hell would Narcissa do during the full moon? Could she handle seeing Diggory in his animal form? Would he just lock himself away for one night every month? 

Lupin might be willing to wag his tail and be scratched behind the ears like a tame dog every full moon, but Draco couldn't picture Diggory behaving that way. Diggory was fierce, not gentle like Lupin. Draco tried not to think too much about the battle that had taken place on the school grounds last summer, but he did remember seeing a large blond wolf leading a pack of werewolves into the fray, remembered seeing that wolf with the blood of a slain Death Eater dripping from its jaws. Although he had not known it at the time, that wolf, of course, had been Diggory.

But...Diggory had been gentle with the children at the clinic. Well, maybe "gentle" was not exactly the right word, considering the way he had been tossing them into the air, but he had caught them every time, with what looked like a secure yet gentle grip. Certainly the children hadn't seemed to fear falling, and even their guardian, despite her protests, had not really looked worried. He had laughed and played with the children, hugging them unselfconsciously, and the children had treated him as if he were their father, or at the very least, a favorite uncle. 

Draco wondered, a bit wistfully, what it would have been like to have a father like that. Then he came to his senses and recoiled in horror, feeling like he had somehow betrayed his father. Which was stupid, because his father had already betrayed him; he owed nothing to Lucius Malfoy. But still, he could not bear to let anyone take his father's place in either his mother's life or his own.

Filled with a mixture of anger and guilt, Draco suddenly remembered his drunken pledge to challenge the werewolf to a duel. He heaved a sigh; it would certainly simplify things if he could get rid of Diggory permanently. But now that he was sober, he knew that it was a stupid idea. He knew that he could never win against the werewolf's lightning-quick reflexes. 

No, if he wanted to kill Diggory, it would have to be an assassination, an ambush when he wasn't expecting it, and Draco wasn't willing to sink that low. For one thing, it was the kind of thing that the Death Eaters would have done, and Draco no longer wanted to emulate them. For another, it was risky, again because of the werewolf's inhuman reflexes; if he didn't kill Diggory immediately, there would be no second chance, because the werewolf would probably kill him.

And finally, deep down, Draco didn't really want to kill the werewolf. What he really wanted was for his family to be whole again, and that was impossible. But he profoundly wished that Diggory hadn't complicated all their lives by getting involved with Narcissa.

*** 

Aric moped around the house while everyone avoided mentioning the Tierneys or the marriage contract. His family seemed to think that he would be fine once he had some time to "get used to the idea". Or, as his grandfather had put it, unaware that Aric had been eavesdropping, "Eventually he'll get tired of sulking and accept reality."

Which only made him sulk all the more. He was sprawled across the couch one morning doing just that, ignoring his father's suggestion that he go out for a ride on his broomstick since it was such a nice day, when a great horned owl arrived with a letter.

Alison opened the envelope and said in surprise, "It's a party invitation from the Snapes!"

"What?" Aric and Karl exclaimed simultaneously. Aric abruptly stopped sulking and sat up on the couch. He felt a sudden flicker of hope; was Lupin up to something? Professor Snape would never willingly invite Aric and his family to a party, so surely this must be Lupin's doing!

"What is the party for?" Karl asked suspiciously.

"The invitation says it is a party to celebrate the coming of spring," Alison replied. "However, I've heard gossip that Lady Selima is using this party to build support for that werewolf." She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Aric's teacher, the one who claims that he is Cynric Diggory's son."

Karl shook his head. "I can't understand why Selima Snape has suddenly developed a fondness for werewolves. I hear that she lets Snape's lover, Lupin, visit the house as if he were family."

"Well, Severus is the last living Snape," Alison said reasonably. "I'm sure she doesn't want to risk losing her heir and having the Snape line die out." She smiled cynically. "Because if the Snape line dies out, so does her influence. I'm not sure why she's so intent on championing this other werewolf, but I've heard that Anya and Cynric Diggory were childhood friends of hers. She must believe that this werewolf really is their long-lost son."

"Selima Snape was never the sentimental type," Karl said dubiously. "Perhaps she means to gain control of the Diggory estate through the werewolf. She was a Bashir before she married, you know, and they have always been very shrewd in their business dealings."

While his parents dissected Selima Snape's possible motives, it suddenly occurred to Aric that there was one more person who knew what it was like to be cast out of the pureblood world: Master Diggory. He had lost everything--home, family, and inheritance--and had been cast out on the street, as Aric's grandfather had threatened to do to him. He would know what it was like to live on his own. Diggory didn't like to talk about his past very much, but maybe he would be willing to talk to Aric, if he asked very nicely. Thinking back over his classes and his detentions at the clinic, as well as the occasional sparring session outside of class, Aric realized that the werewolf had been kind to him, in a very gruff way. Yes, maybe Diggory would talk to him, help him decide what to do...

"We must go to the party!" Aric said emphatically, and his parents turned to stare at him in surprise. He couldn't tell them the real reason that he wanted to go, of course, so he quickly made up a logical excuse. "Like it or not, the Snapes are a very influential family, and they have powerful allies. I've heard that Professor Snape is friends with the Minister of Magic."

Alison looked thoughtful. "Yes, I heard that Arthur Weasley made a point of showing up at Lord Severin's funeral. It might not be wise to snub the Snapes, if they are close to the Minister. But I wonder why Lady Selima invited us? It isn't as if we are friendly with the Snapes; in fact, we are very close to being enemies..."

Aric didn't want to bring up this particular subject, but he needed to persuade his family to attend the party. "Word has already begun to leak about the betrothal negotiations at school. And before you ask, I wasn't the one who leaked it. But Lady Selima is very good at gathering information, so I hear. Perhaps she decided to invite us because we are allied with an important Ministry official."

"Quite likely," Karl agreed. "A good observation, Aric. I'm glad to see that you are thinking as a pureblood heir should." But he was regarding his son with a bemused, almost suspicious look.

Aric smiled slyly; he knew better than to affect an air of innocence, because that would only make his father even more suspicious. "I'm bored," he said casually, "and a party sounds like fun. Besides, it will be interesting to see how the werewolf fares, don't you think?" Actually, he thought that Master Diggory would fare just fine, and if anything went wrong, he would be more worried about the other guests than his teacher; it was like turning a wolf loose among a bunch of pampered lapdogs. But he knew that his parents would enjoy the idea of seeing the werewolf--and by extension, the Snapes--humiliated.

Alison tittered, a malicious gleam in her eyes, and Aric was struck by how catty she looked and sounded. "We'll see if Selima has been able to teach her pet werewolf proper table manners."

Karl laughed, "It's a waste of time. Putting a gold collar on a mongrel won't turn it into a pureblood."

Aric laughed along with his parents, although he found himself growing angry at their offhand insults. For Merlin's sake, they had never even met Master Diggory!

"I suppose we should go," Karl continued, oblivious to Aric's true feelings. "If only to see what the Snapes are up to. They're a sneaky lot, all of them, and I wouldn't put it past them to have some sort of hidden agenda."

His parents continued talking politics, and Aric went to his room, afraid that he might lose his temper if he stayed any longer. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering when his parents had become so shallow and spiteful. Then he realized that he was the one who had changed, not them. Before he came to Hogwarts, he too would have laughed at the idea of a werewolf trying to become accepted into pureblood society. 

He reached into his pocket and touched the good-luck charm that he always carried, the small wolf carving that Takeshi had given to him for his birthday. He ran his fingers over the smooth, cool stone, finding it both comforting and disturbing. Everything would be so much simpler if he had never met the werewolves or the mediwizard, and yet...his life would also be emptier, and deep inside, he didn't really wish that he had never met them.

*** 

Lukas was dancing in the Snapes' drawing room with Branwen as her husband and Lady Selima watched with a critical eye from the couch. Snape lounged in an armchair in the corner of the room, looking mildly amused, while Lupin perched on the armrest next to him, not even trying to hide his grin. A sullen Bane perched on Snape's shoulder, glaring at the man dancing with his mistress. Theo and Dylan had made themselves scarce as soon as they had seen the expression on the werewolf's face when he arrived at the mansion.

Like most Slytherins, they had a very good sense of self-preservation, and decided that it was probably safer not to be party to what their teacher considered a humiliating experience. They were reasonably certain that Snape would be able to prevent the werewolf from killing them, but they would still have to take Physical Defense classes from an irate werewolf. Besides, they reasoned, they could always watch him dance at the party--from a discreet distance, of course.

Lupin had thoughtfully allowed them to borrow his music box for the dancing lessons, and Branwen called out instructions to Lukas as they waltzed around the room. "Step, step, turn--yes, I think you've got it. You'll do fine at the party, Lukas."

"Do you have to hold my wife that close?" Sirius complained in a voice that was only half-joking.

Lukas scowled at him, although he did not stop and break the pattern of the dance. "Are you sure that you're not part wolf, Black? I'm a little tired of dealing with jealous alpha males who seem to think that I have designs upon their mates, which I do not." That little barb was obviously directed at Snape, who scowled back at him.

"I'm part dog," Sirius said. "I suppose that's close enough."

"Wolves mate for life, and dogs don't," Lukas said. "We tend to be more possessive."

"This is one dog who will never stray, if you'll pardon the pun," Sirius said with a grin.

"Especially if he doesn't want to be 'fixed,'" Branwen said with a positively demonic smile. "If you'll pardon the pun."

Snape smirked and Sirius winced. "She's all yours," Lukas assured him.

Lukas moved smoothly and gracefully through the steps of the dance, but Selima was frowning. "The dancing is fine, Cyril, but don't scowl. Remember to smile."

He smiled, but it looked more menacing than inviting, with his lips pulling back to expose his sharp canine teeth.

"With less teeth, please," Selima said dryly. "You'll send the guests running in terror."

"That's the point," Lukas muttered under his breath, but smiled again, with his mouth closed.

"That's a little better, but it still looks more like a grimace," Selima said. A low, rumbling noise started to form in Lukas's throat, and Selima snapped, "And no growling!" Lukas subsided, looking sulky. Selima looked annoyed, then thoughtful, and after a moment's silence, said, "Pretend that you are your father. Imagine how he would react at a party like this one. Imagine that you are not annoyed, but amused by all these people, because you are superior to all of them, these petty backstabbing, gossiping little social climbers."

And instantly, Lukas's face seemed to transform, his lips curving slightly in a smile of amused condescension. He turned his head, carelessly tossing back his long, golden hair, and a lazy, arrogant, yet charming grin slowly spread across his face. Lucius Malfoy could not have done it better.

Branwen's eyes widened, and she actually stumbled and came to a halt. "Oh my, you certainly can turn on the charm when you wish!"

Sirius glared at the werewolf, and Selima smiled. "You look just like your father, Cyril. All the girls used to swoon over him when he did that. It's a combination of the smile and the hair, I think; we used to joke that he had hair prettier than any of the girls'. But of course he only had eyes for your mother."

Lukas smiled, a genuine smile this time. "I used to watch my parents entertain company sometimes. I had to stay hidden in my room, since we were keeping up the fiction that I was sickly and bedridden, but my father enspelled a set of mirrors for me so that I could watch what was going on downstairs."

Lukas was smiling nostalgically, but the image of a young boy sitting alone his room watching a party going on downstairs through his mirror made Lupin feel a little sad. He knew what it was like to feel lonely and isolated, to not be allowed contact with the outside world. And the more time that Lupin spent around Lukas and his pack, the more he realized that he was actually one of the lucky ones, who had at least been able to attend school and lead a semi-normal life.

"My father was amused by all the scheming for power that went on amongst his peers," Lukas said. "He was a Slytherin, so he knew how to play the game, but he considered himself above it. Or maybe that was part of the game, to act as though he didn't care. The truly powerful can remain indifferent, while those of the middle and lower ranks exude an air of desperation, a frantic need to move up the social ladder. At least, that is what my father used to say. But the Diggorys were much more powerful then than they are now." Lukas frowned. "And I don't think it's solely because my father spent so much of the family wealth."

"No, it isn't," Selima told him. "Your grandfather was not the ambitious type, and while Amos did have a certain amount of ambition, he didn't have the skill necessary to follow through on it. Which is how he came to be stuck in a mid-level position at the Ministry. A respectable job, obtained through your family's contacts before their decline, but I doubt that he will ever rise any higher." She smiled at him reassuringly, an expression that looked very strange and unfamiliar on Lady Snape's normally cold face. "I'm sure you'll do fine at the party, Cyril. Your parents would be proud of you."

Everyone stared at her in shock, except for Lupin, who grinned happily. Selima flushed, then gave Lukas an icy glare and said in a more threatening tone, "You will do fine at the party, Cyril--or you will answer to me."

"Merlin have mercy on us," Lukas muttered under his breath. "I'd rather face Voldemort."

"I heard that!" Selima snapped, then relented and gave him a very small and dry smile. "You inherited your father's sarcastic sense of humor as well as his looks, I see."

Lukas just grinned at her wolfishly, and Lupin shouted, "No teeth!" and everyone laughed. Even Selima smiled a little.

"I just wish the party were over and done with," Lukas sighed.

"It has the potential for disaster," Sirius observed, although he looked more pleased than disturbed by that idea. "Mixing together a bunch of stuck-up purebloods, two werewolves, a Muggle-loving Minister of Magic, the half-blood hero of the wizarding world, not to mention the Gryffindor black sheep of a Slytherin family..." Sirius grinned at that obvious reference to himself. "It's actually starting to sound like fun!"

"I'm sure that the party will be a great success," Branwen said, giving her husband a reproving look.

"Of course it will," Selima said, sounding a little miffed. "All my parties are."

"Well," Lupin said with a smile, "we certainly can't argue with that." Snape gave him a sour look but wisely chose to remain silent.

*** 

The night of the party arrived, and nearly all of the people that Selima had invited showed up. Lupin had thought that some of them might decline, not wanting to demean themselves by associating with a werewolf, but Snape had assured him that the opposite was true.

"By now they've all heard about the werewolf who aspires to a pureblood title, and they'll all want to come and get a look at him in person."

"Like I'm a bloody circus animal on display," Lukas had grumbled, fortifying himself with a shot of Firewhiskey before the party.

But when the party began, he was on his best behavior, carrying himself with an air of dignity. He looked downright regal in his green-and-gold velvet robes, with his father's gold torc around his neck. He greeted all the guests politely, meeting their curious stares and veiled barbs with that small, condescending smile modeled after his father's, as if he found their insults amusing rather than offensive. He was, Lupin realized, regarding them as if they were the circus animals on display for his entertainment rather than the other way around, which clearly disconcerted the guests who had come hoping to see the werewolf make a fool of himself. Lupin knew that it was an act, but none of the guests seemed to see through it.

"That was very clever," Branwen whispered to Selima, "giving him a role to play."

Selima nodded. "Cyril worshipped his father, and I thought it would be easier for him to be Cynric for this one night, rather than himself. So long as he carries himself with his father's confidence, he will be fine."

As Lupin watched Lukas interact with guests, he understood that it was not entirely an act, after all. Lady Selima was very clever, indeed. Cynric had died when Lukas was still very young, and he had clearly regarded his father with an air of hero worship, as many young boys did--much as Dylan did Evan Rosier. The adult Lukas knew that Cynric, while basically a good man, had been flawed as all human beings are, but the image ingrained in his heart was the young Cyril's vision of his father--brave, handsome, charming, perfect. So long as Lukas was being Cynric, he was filled with confidence, because he could not picture his father as being anything less than perfect. Because Cynric Diggory was better than any of the people here, no matter how much wealth and power they possessed, at least in Lukas's mind.

Lupin smiled at Selima. "You're very manipulative, Lady Selima," he said.

"Why, thank you, Professor," Selima replied serenely.

Lukas seemed to be getting into his role, bowing in a courtly manner and kissing the hands of the young women in greeting. And the women, in spite of his tainted blood and scandalous reputation, giggled and fluttered their lashes at him until their parents or escorts dragged them away. Even some of the older women cast admiring glances his way even as they were sneering and whispering about him behind his back.

Lupin said with a grin, "Why do I get the impression that Cynric Diggory was a charming rogue, rather like Evan Rosier?" 

Dylan, looking very handsome in his silver-gray dress robes, laughed. "That was what my mother always called him--my father, of course; not Master Diggory's father."

Selima smiled. "Cynric was a bit of a rogue. The term 'devilishly handsome' was often used to describe him, and he did enjoy getting into mischief. However, he never got into anywhere near as much trouble as Evan did."

Dumbledore had arrived, and joined their little group. "Yes, I do believe that Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes hold the record for most detention hours served at Hogwarts," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "No one else even comes close."

"Not even Prongs and I?" Sirius laughed. "Or Harry?"

"No," Dumbledore replied. "Not even the Marauders can match Evan's record."

"Which speaks volumes, because Harry is an angel in comparison to his father and godfather!" Branwen declared.

"You guys must really have gotten into a lot of trouble, then!" Harry exclaimed, and everyone laughed. 

"You have no idea, Potter," Snape said sourly.

"Er...thank you for inviting me to the party, Professor," Harry said nervously.

"Don't thank me, thank my mother," Snape growled.

"Thank you very much, Lady Selima," Harry said politely.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter," Selima replied, with a cool but approving smile. "You certainly have better manners than your father."

Lupin laughed at the expression on Harry's face, obviously unsure of whether he had just been complimented or insulted. He slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders and whispered, "Take it as a compliment, Harry."

Snape raised his eyebrows and asked his mother sarcastically, "Is that any way to speak to the Savior of the Wizarding World?"

His mother was about to make a retort, but just then the Weasleys arrived, accompanied by Hermione, and Selima glided forward to greet the Minister of Magic. "My mother flattering the Weasleys," Snape muttered, shaking his head. "It just doesn't seem right." Dylan hurried after Selima to greet Hermione with a smile, and Snape shook his head again. "Nor for my foster son to be associating with that know-it-all wench."

"Oh, you know that you really like her," Lupin said.

Snape glared at his lover. "Clearly you are delusional, Lupin. A typical Gryffindor defect, I suppose."

Lupin ignored him, frowning as he scanned the crowd of incoming guests. "I don't see Narcissa or Draco."

Vorcher, who happened to be passing by with a tray of drinks, said, "Lady Malfoy sent her regrets. Lady Malfoy has the flu--or so Lady Malfoy's letter said."

"You didn't really expect them to show up, did you, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"Well, I guess that Narcissa hasn't completely overcome her prejudices," Sirius said, sounding disappointed. "I suppose we can't expect her to change overnight."

"It's not--" Lupin started to protest, then abruptly fell silent, since he couldn't reveal the real reason why he thought Narcissa and Draco had not shown up.

"What is it, Moony?" Sirius asked curiously.

"I don't think it's prejudice," Lupin said, quickly covering up his little slip of the tongue. "I think she just feels uncomfortable being around her former friends who abandoned her after the Malfoys became branded as Death Eaters."

"Well, she should've come," Sirius said with a shrug, "because for once everyone's attention is going to be focused on Lukas instead of her."

"What is Selima thinking?" Priscilla Parkinson asked with a sneer. "Mudbloods and werewolves, associating with the pure of blood, acting as if they were equal to us!"

"Grandmother!" Pansy protested.

"That Mudblood girl and these werewolves are heroes of the war," Snape snarled. "You'd best remember that, Priscilla. And you'd best remember that the Snapes are allied with the Minister of Magic, while your family was lucky to escape arrest due to your association with known Death Eaters!"

"Well, I never!" gasped Priscilla indignantly, and she walked away in a huff, while Snape stalked off in the opposite direction. 

"I'm sorry about my grandmother," Pansy apologized.

"It's not your fault," Lupin assured her, then smiled. "I notice that while Lady Selima ordered Lukas to be polite, charming, and witty, she didn't ask the same of Severus."

"Lady Selima is a realist," Branwen said dryly. "She may ask for a great deal sometimes, but she doesn't expect the impossible."

"Did Professor Snape just defend Hermione?" a bewildered Harry asked.

"Perhaps," said a pleasant voice, "he was not so much defending the young lady as he was defending his family. By offering insult to the young lady, Mrs. Parkinson was indirectly offering insult to the Professor and his mother, since Miss Granger is their guest."

The speaker was a dark-haired wizard with streaks of white at his temples. Harry gave the man a startled look, and Lupin introduced them. "Harry, this is Prospero Zabini, Blaise's grandfather. Prospero, this is--"

"The famous Harry Potter," Prospero said, then grinned mischievously. "Although I'm sure you must be very tired of people referring to you that way." 

He held out his hand, and Harry shook it, giving the older wizard a tentative smile. "Yes, I am. Please just call me 'Harry'."

"I will, if you will call me 'Prospero'."

"Are you sure that's proper?" Harry asked dubiously, having been lectured extensively on wizarding etiquette by both his step-godmother and Hermione.

"Probably not," Prospero said with a grin. "But you're a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors aren't expected to be proper."

Harry laughed, and Blaise came forward to politely shake hands with Harry and introduce his parents, who were regarding Prospero with a look of resignation.

"Hi, Harry!" Allegra said happily, looking very excited to be at the party. 

"Hello, Allegra," Harry said. "I like your grandfather; he seems very nice."

Allegra giggled. "Daddy sometimes says that he acts like a Gryffindor."

"That's not really meant to be a compliment," Blaise said dryly.

Theodore smiled. "Come, Allegra, I'll show you around the Manor." He took Allegra's hand and led her around the house, patiently enduring her eager questions. Blaise joined them, and Lupin noticed that he and Theo were careful not to touch each other or behave as if they were anything more than just friends. Lupin sighed, thinking to himself that it was sad and a little ironic that they still had to keep up the fiction that they weren't a couple when everyone knew that they were. Lady Selima called it "keeping up appearances," and Lupin was surprised that she had invited the Zabinis at all. 

But Selima claimed that she had invited them to prove that they had nothing to be ashamed of, because deliberately avoiding the Zabinis would be a tacit admission that the rumors were true. Lupin had not pointed out to her that the rumors about Theo and Blaise really were true, and that the Snapes had never associated with the Zabinis in the past. He suspected that Selima simply wanted to see Prospero again, and perhaps also wanted to give Theo a chance to see Blaise. She had even allowed Dylan to persuade her to invite Hermione by pointing out that she was a heroine of the war and a friend of Harry Potter's. 

Political expediency was all it was, Selima had claimed, and Lupin had decided not to accuse her of being motivated by sentiment, especially when they were all getting along so well. He smiled a little in spite of himself, thinking that perhaps he was getting the hang of the Slytherin habit of adhering to a polite fiction that nobody really believed in. 

"I should have worn my Slytherin robe tonight," Lupin murmured.

"Did you say something, Professor?" Harry asked.

"No, I was just talking to myself, Harry," Lupin said cheerfully. "Another Gryffindor defect, I'm sure Severus would say. Come on, let's join the party."

*** 

The party was just beginning when Aric and his parents arrived. His grandparents had remained at home, saying that it would be sufficient for Karl and Alison to "scout out the situation," as if they were spies infiltrating enemy territory. Well, perhaps they were.

"What a pleasure to see you," Lady Selima said with a charming smile. "I'm so glad that you could make it." It was strange; she looked a great deal like her son, but she was beautiful while Snape was anything but. 

"Thank you for inviting us," Alison said, a bit stiffly.

Master Diggory stepped forward, clad as he had been at the Yule Ball, in fine velvet robes and the gold torc. He looked every inch the pureblood Lord, and it was not just the clothing; he seemed confident and at ease, as if he attended parties like this every day.

"This is Cyril Diggory," Selima said. "Cyril, this is Karl Dietrich, and his wife Alison, and of course you know young Aric."

"I am pleased to meet you," Diggory said politely, bowing slightly since they did not extend their hands to him. It was a shallow bow, one between equals rather than a subordinate bowing to someone of superior rank. Aric could tell that this point was not lost on his father, by the way his body tensed slightly, and the angry set of his jaw. Karl nodded at the werewolf curtly. Diggory just smiled lazily, looking mildly amused by Karl's reaction. 

Then he gave Aric a more sincere smile. "Your son is very talented; he's one of my best students." Aric felt a surge of pride, but his parents did not look very flattered to be told that their son was "talented" at something so uncouth as Physical Defense. "And he's also a very good Potions student, as I have reason to know." Diggory's voice remained blandly polite, but there was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, and Aric flushed, recalling how many hours he had spent in detention at the clinic brewing potions. 

Aric's parents did not look mollified by the second compliment. "Aric has a fondness for fencing," Alison said with a disapproving frown. "We have been trying to discourage him from such pastimes. It is not really appropriate for a young man of his rank."

"Ah, but certainly it is!" Diggory said lightly. "Young Mr. Potter dispatched a Basilisk with Godric Gryffindor's sword, or didn't you hear? It was made public after the war ended. I predict that swordfighting shall soon become fashionable among the young people again."

Aric's parents looked horrified, and Selima smiled at them sympathetically and said, "There have been so many changes since the war ended; it's positively dizzying, isn't it? But surely the world is a better place without He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Please come with me, and I will get you some refreshment." Karl and Alison followed her hastily, eager to get away from the werewolf.

Aric lingered behind; it was positively weird to see his fierce, bad-tempered werewolf teacher behaving like a pureblood rather than growling and threatening the people who annoyed him. Diggory winked at him and grinned, exposing his sharp teeth, and he looked more like himself for a second. But before Aric could say anything, three more guests arrived.

"Gwendolyn!" Diggory said warmly. "You came!" 

He embraced a pretty, brown-haired woman who kissed him on the cheek and hugged him back, then pulled away, holding him at arm's length while she looked him over. "Oh, you look so much like your father, Cyril!" she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, then hugged him again.

"I'm glad you came," Diggory said softly. "It's good to see a few genuinely friendly faces." He released the woman, who by now Aric had figured out must be his aunt, and shook hands with Robert Ames and Tristan Ames-Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. "I hope you're prepared for some verbal sparring, though. The gossips have been sharpening their tongues, and the party's barely started yet."

"I can handle it," Gwendolyn assured him. "I'm here--we're here--to support you. And I'm grateful to the Snapes for supporting you as well."

Diggory smiled wryly. "Lady Selima's support is something of a mixed blessing, at least for the one receiving it, but yes, I am grateful to her. And I'm grateful to you, too, Aric. Thank you for coming."

Aric, who had been feeling a little left out, smiled at his teacher. "You're welcome, sir. Please don't mind my parents. They're...ah..."

"Typical purebloods," Diggory finished, but he was still smiling. "Come, let's get something to drink, and then--" He winced slightly. "--I'll have to put my dancing lessons to the test."

"Dancing lessons?" Gwendolyn asked.

Diggory sighed. "It's a long story."

Aric found himself tagging along with Diggory and the Ames family. Tristan eyed him warily, but Gwendolyn thanked him warmly for supporting her nephew. It was clear that she loved Diggory and thought the world of him, acting more like an adoring younger sister than an aunt, but then, she was younger than he was. Things must be complicated in the Diggory family for her to support her nephew's claim over that of her brother's, or perhaps she had simply been closer to him as a child, since they were closer in age than she and Amos.

After the guests had enjoyed some refreshment, the dancing began. Lady Selima had hired a musical group to perform--not Weird Sisters' songs or anything remotely resembling that type of music, but very sedate and traditional waltzes and the like. To Aric's surprise, the werewolf danced gracefully, as if he had been doing it all his life. Clearly, most of the other guests were surprised as well; they either gaped in shock or looked disappointed that he wasn't making a fool of himself as they had obviously expected him to. Diggory danced first with his young aunt while Snape danced with his mother, then Snape left the dance floor, looking relieved, and Diggory danced with Lady Selima. He also danced with Professor Blackmore, Molly Weasley, and a very pretty and elegant red-haired woman.

"Morrigan De Lacy," Alison informed Aric. "His lawyer. It's shameful, that she's helping a werewolf take an estate away from a pureblood."

Aric shrugged. "She's just doing her job. There were lawyers who defended the Death Eaters, too. Besides, you don't like Amos Diggory."

"That's not the point," Alison said sternly. "A pureblood shouldn't be helping to make the blood of the wizarding world less pure."

"You aren't friendly with this werewolf, are you?" Karl asked suspiciously. "Befriending a werewolf is just the crazy sort of thing Rafe would have done..."

"Please, Dad," Aric said, feigning indignation. "I looked up to Uncle Rafe, but I'm not crazy enough to be a Gryffindor. I just don't particularly care whether Amos Diggory loses his estate or not."

Karl scolded Aric, but he looked relieved. "You must be more far-sighted, my son. Of course we don't care about Amos, but it sets a bad precedent to give a werewolf equal status with us."

"I see," Aric said, and his parents looked placated. 

Karl smiled and held out his hand to Alison. "Shall we dance, my dear?"

"This is a party, after all," Alison said, smiling coquettishly, and laid her hand in his. 

Aric watched them dance; they looked happy together. Theirs had been an arranged marriage, but they had always acted as if they loved each other. He wondered if they had fallen in love with each other after they married, or if they were simply content with a marriage of convenience and had never longed for anything more passionate. Maybe because they were happy with each other, they assumed that he could find happiness with Miranda, too. He wondered if they'd ever had doubts about going into the marriage, if perhaps there had been school sweethearts or first loves that they regretted giving up. 

Aric circulated around the room nervously. There were a few Slytherin girls here with their families, but he didn't want to risk the embarrassment of being turned down by asking them to dance. He didn't really want to dance with any of them, anyway. But everyone else seemed to be dancing, except for Snape, who seemed content to sit on the sidelines. Professor Blackmore danced with her husband and with Lupin; Theo danced with Pansy and Allegra, as did Blaise; Dylan danced with Hermione; Potter danced with Ginny Weasley; and Lady Selima danced with several of the male guests, including Dumbledore, Arthur Weasley, and a man who turned out to be Blaise's grandfather. 

According to etiquette, a woman did not ask a man to dance, at least not directly, but some of the women began giving Diggory inviting looks. A few of them seemed enchanted by his good looks and perhaps the thrill of the forbidden, while some were just curious, and others looked as though they wanted to test his pureblood manners and see if they could get him to slip up and embarrass himself.

"What is it like, turning into a wolf?" one woman asked in a breathy voice, her eyes wide with both horror and eagerness. 

Something dangerous flickered in Diggory's eyes for just a second, but then he smiled and said casually, "It's quite painful, actually, feeling your flesh and bones rearranging themselves. But fortunately, the transformation is brief; it only takes a few minutes."

"No, I mean, what does it feel like to actually be a wolf?" the woman asked.

Diggory gave her a charming smile and laughed, "Why, you may ask any man here that question, for we are all wolves at heart--especially around beautiful women!" The woman pouted for a moment, then she laughed as well and allowed him to change the subject.

"Hello, Aric," Lupin said cheerfully. "Are you having fun?"

"Not exactly," Aric replied, "but it's certainly interesting to watch. I had no idea that Master Diggory could...well..."

"Dance?" Lupin asked. "Act like a 'proper' pureblood?"

"Both," Aric admitted. "Although I suppose that swordplay or hand-to-hand combat is sort of like dancing, in a way."

"You'll have to tell Lukas that," Lupin said with a grin. "Perhaps he'll enjoy it more, if he can imagine it to be a battle."

"He seems to be having fun," Aric said.

"That's good," Lupin said. "Lady Selima will be pleased that he is so convincing. But it is all an act, I assure you. He considers this whole party worse torture than a Cruciatus Curse."

"Well, I feel a bit relieved, then," Aric said with a smile. "I was beginning to wonder if someone had either Obliviated his mind or replaced him with an impostor." Lupin laughed, and Aric said hesitantly, "Er...Professor?"

"Yes, Aric?"

Aric lowered his voice to a whisper. "Did you get the Minister to send the Tierneys to France?" Lupin just grinned and winked at him. "Thanks," Aric said, and he meant it.

Lupin's expression suddenly turned sober. "You're welcome, Aric, but I'm afraid it's not a permanent transfer."

"I know," Aric sighed.

"I've bought you some time to decide what you want to do, that's all," Lupin continued. "I wish I could do more. But even if I got rid of the Tierneys permanently, your parents would still arrange another marriage for you in the future." Lupin gazed into Aric's eyes, and Aric wondered uneasily just how much Lupin had guessed about his reasons for wanting to turn down the betrothal. "If you really want to..." There was a slight but significant pause before Lupin continued, "...become a mediwizard, you know that your parents will be upset, and you're going to have to deal with it."

"I know," Aric said. "I--"

But just then, the music ended, and Lady Selima was calling for the guests' attention, and Snape was motioning for Lupin to join him. Lupin squeezed Aric's shoulder and whispered, "We can talk later if you like, Aric. I promise I'll do whatever I can to help you." And Aric stared after the werewolf as he walked off, wondering why Lupin would go so far to help him, when he had done nothing but cause trouble and fight with Lupin's foster son ever since he had arrived at Hogwarts.

Lady Selima was saying something about...an Easter egg hunt in the garden? Surely, that couldn't be right! Aric shook his head, wondering if he had misheard, but everyone seemed to be leaving the ballroom and heading outside. Diggory lingered behind, sipping a glass of wine as he watched the guests file out.

"Excuse me, sir," Aric said. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about the homework assignment you gave us?"

Diggory looked startled, and then his eyes narrowed, probably because he had not given his students any homework assignments over the break. "Of course, Mr. Dietrich," Diggory replied smoothly. "Come, we can talk in the study, but we can't take too long or Lady Selima will scold me for neglecting my duties."

Diggory led him to what Aric assumed must be the Snape Lord's study, and as soon as they were alone with the door closed behind them, the werewolf sighed with relief, leaning against the desk.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Diggory groaned. "My face hurts from smiling, and I thought I was going to explode if I had to endure one more idiotic or catty remark." He growled, looking a little wild-eyed. "I swear I'm going to bite the next person who asks me what it feels like to turn into a wolf!"

Aric grinned. "You're a very good actor, sir. I told Professor Lupin that I was afraid you had been replaced by an impostor."

Diggory smiled. "Well, I thank you for the reprieve, Aric, but I'm afraid it will have to be a brief one. If I don't show up for the Easter egg hunt pretty soon, Lady Selima will come looking for me."   
"Is she that scary?" Aric asked.

Diggory smiled sardonically. "Let's just say that Professor Snape takes after his mother." Aric laughed, and Diggory said in a more serious tone, "So what did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Dietrich?"

Aric instantly sobered, feeling very nervous and self-conscious. "Um...well..."

"Better hurry up and get to the point, Dietrich," Diggory said, but his voice was sympathetic. "Lady Selima will bursting in here any minute now."

"What was it like, going from living as a pureblood to living on your own?" Aric blurted out. "How did you survive?" Diggory raised his eyebrows, and Aric hastily continued, "I'm not asking to be nosy or to gossip about you, like those people out there." He motioned vaguely in the direction of the ballroom. "It's just that...well...my family is negotiating a marriage alliance for me, and if I don't go through with it, my grandfather says he will disown me and throw me out on the street. And...I...well..."

"Ah," Diggory said, crossing his arms across his chest and giving Aric a knowing look. 

Aric found himself blushing, and he stammered, "Y-you see, I...I want to become a mediwizard, but if I marry this girl, I'll have to go work at the Ministry with her father and--"

"Wouldn't it be more accurate to say that a particular mediwizard rather than the profession itself is the reason you don't want to go through with this marriage?" Diggory interrupted.

Aric's blush deepened; it felt like his face was burning. "How did you know?" he whispered.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'm not blind, Dietrich!" the werewolf said impatiently. "Do you think I didn't notice the way the two of you were looking at each other that day at the clinic?"

"Oh God, does everyone know?" Aric groaned, feeling mortified.

"Well, Lupin's probably guessed," Diggory replied, "but Mr. Malfoy seems a bit dense about these things. Since he hasn't spread any gossip around the school about it, it's probably a safe bet that he doesn't suspect."

"If my parents got word of this--"

"They'd disown you," Diggory finished. "And from your questions, it seems like you are considering letting them disown you."

"I don't know what to do!" Aric wailed. "I want...I want to...I mean, I don't want to marry this girl, but--"

"Aric," Diggory said in a firm yet somehow gentle voice, "if you don't have the courage to actually say the words out loud, this isn't going to work. It will take a great deal of strength to stand up to your family and, if necessary, live on your own."

Aric hung his head in shame. "I...I...I..." he stuttered helplessly. He was having a hard enough time admitting it to himself, let alone saying it out loud to another person.

"Do you love him?" Diggory asked patiently.

"I...think so," Aric mumbled.

"'I think so' isn't going to cut it, Aric," Diggory said bluntly. "You've seen what Snape and Lupin go through, and the way people reacted to Theodore and Blaise after the Yule Ball." He gave Aric a hard look, and Aric felt himself flush again, remembering that he was one of the people who had taunted Theo. "If you can't handle that kind of pressure, you might as well go back home to your family and marry the girl they've chosen."

"I'm scared," Aric whispered. "I...I don't know if I can handle the pressure or not. I've never lived on my own before."

Diggory's expression softened slightly. "Well, at least you're honest about it. I was a pampered pureblood once too, a very long time ago, and going from living in a mansion to living on the street was a great shock." He grimaced. "Although the leaky shack that my mother's parents kept us locked up in did provide something of a transition. I can tell you that it won't be easy, but it won't be quite as bad for you as it was for me. For one thing, you won't starve or have to live on the street." Diggory smiled a little. "Takeshi has a flat of his own, and his parents own a restaurant."

"What if he doesn't want me?" Aric said, voicing his fear out loud. "I mean...I've never actually said anything to him..."

"Aric," Diggory said, beginning to look impatient again, and a little angry as well. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but after you left the clinic that day you told him about your betrothal--"

"I didn't tell him," Aric protested. "That was Malfoy!"

"--I found him crying in his workroom," Diggory finished, ignoring the interruption. Aric fell silent, gaping at him in shock. "So yes," Diggory continued dryly, "I think we can assume that he does indeed want you. The question is, what do you intend to do about it?"

"That's why I wanted to talk to you," Aric said, still feeling stunned--and guilty. He had hurt Takeshi, made him cry. He had never intended to do that, but then, he had never intended to fall in love with the mediwizard, either. And through the guilt, he felt a little surge of happiness, because Takeshi cared about him enough to cry over the news that Aric was getting married. And of course, feeling happy about his friend crying made Aric feel even guiltier.

The werewolf shook his head. "I can't tell you what to do, Aric. That's a decision you have to make on your own."

"But...it's just...like I said, I've never been on my own, and I just thought...that maybe...if you told me what it was like..."

Diggory seemed to get the gist of Aric's rather incoherent rambling. "As I said, it won't be easy, but you won't starve, either. You're not a werewolf, and you're a good student when you aren't getting into fights, so you shouldn't have too much trouble getting a job. You were already promised a position at St. Mungo's if you passed your N.E.W.T.s, I believe. Of course, you won't be able to rely on your family's money to buy your way out of trouble, and you will have to do without certain luxuries that you're probably used to, but I don't think that's what you're really asking me, is it?"

"I want...I want to be with Takeshi," Aric whispered, getting the words out with great difficulty, "but I don't want to lose my family."

"There are different kinds of family, Aric," Diggory said quietly. "My pack members are not related to me by blood, but they are my family, nevertheless. Lupin is not related to Snape or Theodore or Dylan, but they are still his family."

"I love my family," Aric said with tears in his eyes. "I don't want to lose Takeshi, but I don't want to lose them, either."

"You have to make a choice, Aric," Diggory said in a suprisingly kind voice. "You know you cannot have them both. You might think about which of the two is forcing you to make this choice, and whether your love and loyalty to your family is being repaid in kind."

"It's not that they don't love me, but they're very traditional and old-fashioned," Aric said defensively. "My parents' marriage was arranged, so they don't see anything wrong with it. My grandfather says that I owe a duty to my family, and maybe I do--they've fed and clothed and protected me all my life."

Diggory smiled sadly. "I've always thought that it was a parent's duty to love and protect their children without expecting anything in return. But who am I to talk? My father was a Slytherin and a pureblood, too. If he had lived, he probably would have been upset if I decided to take a male lover instead of marrying and carrying on the family name. But I don't think that he would have disowned me; he did love me even though I was a werewolf. And being a werewolf, I cannot risk having children and passing down my curse to them. I take back what I said earlier, Aric; it will be harder for you than it was for me. I didn't really have a choice; I was driven from my home. And Snape never got along with his family from what I've heard, so perhaps it was easier for him to defy them. But you have a very difficult choice to make, Mr. Dietrich, and I don't envy you."

The werewolf suddenly leaned closer, his yellow-green eyes staring at Aric intently. "I think that Takeshi is worth a dozen purebloods, but if you choose to stay with your family, I cannot fault you for being loyal to your pack, although I do not really think that they are worthy of your loyalty." Diggory growled a little and bared his teeth, and Aric took a nervous step back. "But you had better be very certain of whatever decision you make. If you toy with Takeshi's feelings, if you give him false hope, then decide that you can't cut it on your own and go back to your family and break his heart, then I will hunt you down and literally rip your heart out."

Aric turned pale, taken aback by the werewolf's ferocity, and Diggory smiled, but he still looked fierce and intimidating. "Takeshi is like pack; he has nursed some of my wolves through the attacks that turned them. He has always treated us with compassion and friendship instead of fear and disgust. So I will protect him as if he were part of my pack."

"I...I don't want to hurt him," Aric said, and it wasn't just out of fear of the werewolf. "At least, no more than I already have," he added guiltily. "I never meant to hurt him. He's the best friend I have. He's the only one who likes me for myself, and not for what I can do for him." And that included not just Aric's friends, but also his family--except for Rafe, who was dead. He suddenly realized that Takeshi reminded him a little of Rafe. Not so much in their personalities, because Rafe had been outgoing and impulsive where Takeshi was quieter and more serious, but in the way that they were kind to everyone they met, without judging people by their family, blood purity, or wealth. Grandfather was probably right when he said that Rafe would've been crazy enough to befriend a werewolf, except that Aric didn't really think it was crazy.

Diggory nodded and relaxed, looking human again. He gave Aric a more sympathetic smile and said, "The fact that Takeshi is pack also means that you won't be alone, if you should choose to stay with him. Pack support each other, and we'll stand as your friends if you become Takeshi's mate."

The thought of becoming Takeshi's "mate" filled Aric with a combination of excitement and terror. The thought of having a pack of werewolves as his friends was also more than a little intimidating. His parents would be horrified; was he really contemplating doing something so insane? Could he really bear to not just lose his family, but to have them hate him? He had thought talking to Diggory would help, but he felt just as confused as he had before their conversation, maybe even more so. 

Deep down, Aric had not really believed that he could forsake his family and his duty, but Diggory had made it seem like a real possibility, a dazzling and terrifying option. But the more that Aric came to realize how much he cared about Takeshi, the more he also realized how much he loved his family and would miss them. And he was scared that he might screw things up somehow and hurt Takeshi, as Diggory apparently suspected that he might. He felt paralyzed by indecision, but if he continued to do nothing, pretty soon he would find himself engaged and then married to Miranda Tierney.

"Master Diggory, I--" Aric started to say, but just then, someone knocked on the door. 

"Lukas?" Lupin called. "Are you in there?"

"Yes, Remus," Diggory replied.

Lupin opened the door and looked startled to see Aric there as well. Then he smiled knowingly and Aric found himself blushing again. "I'm sorry to interrupt," Lupin said. "But Lady Selima is looking for you."

"I was just helping Mr. Dietrich with a homework assignment," Diggory said casually. "Sorry, Aric, but you really don't want to see what Lady Selima is like when she's angry." He placed a hand on Aric's shoulder and said, "Take some time to think over what I've said; you can't make a snap decision about something like this. We can talk further when you come back to school."

Diggory hurried out of the room, leaving Aric alone with Lupin. The werewolf smiled pleasantly at him and said, "Well, my presence is not required by Lady Selima, so I have some time to talk now, if you'd like. Or has Lukas already given you the advice that you needed?"

"I'm not sure if it's what I needed," Aric said slowly, still blushing a little. "But he's given me some things to think about." What had he really expected anyway? For Diggory to say, "Of course you should abandon your family and go live with Takeshi"? And even if he had, would Aric have listened? He wanted someone to tell him what to do, but his grandfather had already told him in no uncertain terms what he should do, and Aric was still torn. He reluctantly supposed that Diggory was right, and this was a decision he had to make on his own.

Lupin waited patiently while Aric wrestled with his thoughts, and he gave his teacher a puzzled look. "Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"Because I'm a noble Gryffindor idiot," Lupin said lightly, "and I believe in the basic goodness of humanity." And Aric felt a pang of sorrow, reminded again of his uncle, who had also been a Gryffindor idealist who tried to see the best in everyone. "And besides," Lupin continued with a mischievous grin, "I have a soft spot for obnoxious, arrogant Slytherins."

"Thanks so much," Aric said sarcastically.

Lupin patted him on the shoulder fondly. "Anytime, Aric. And finally, I want to help you for Theodore's sake, because you are cousins and there is a bond between you, even if you don't want to admit it."

"He's a Snape now," Aric mumbled, looking down to avoid Lupin's gaze. "We're not related anymore."

"All the pureblood families are related to some degree," Lupin told him. "There is only so much pure blood to go around, after all, as Lady Selima always tells me. And I've had a look at the Snape family tree, and there is at least one Dietrich in there, albeit several generations back."

"We should get back to the party," Aric said abruptly. "My parents will be wondering where I am."

Lupin smiled at him and allowed him to the change the subject. "Well, come along then," he said cheerfully. "We're missing the Easter egg hunt."

"Is Lady Selima really having an Easter egg hunt?"

"Yes, but she's put her on unique spin on it--I suppose one can't expect anything less from Lady Selima. Come, I'll show you."

*** 

Lady Selima, it turned out, had liked Lupin's suggestion to have an Easter egg hunt, but she would never use anything so simple and common as dyed hard-boiled eggs. Instead, she had purchased hollow eggs made of porcelain or gold or silver, all beautifully painted or enameled or decorated with gilt and tiny jewels, like Faberge eggs. Some of the simpler, less expensive ones were left out in plain sight on the lawn, or hidden in relatively easy to find places, such as under a bush, while the more elaborate and expensive ones were hidden more carefully, and in some cases, concealed with magic. The grand prize was a magnificent gold-and-silver creation the size of an ostrich egg, inlaid with a design of tiny emeralds forming the Slytherin crest of a serpent.

Selima sat on a marble bench in the garden, calmly watching the festivities. "Just how much did all this cost, Mother?" Snape asked, a bit sourly.

Selima waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Consider it an investment in the future, Severus. We need to reestablish our position in society, after your father spent so many years in seclusion, and this will help to accomplish that."

And indeed, the guests seemed to be having a splendid time, exclaiming over Lady Selima's clever idea. Snape nodded in acknowledgment and Selima smiled smugly. Then she caught sight of Lukas, and motioned for him to join them. "There you are, Cyril! Where have you been?"

Lukas shrugged. "Having a chat with one of my students. Besides, it wouldn't be fair for me participate in the hunt, since I helped to hide the eggs."

"Still, you are the guest of honor here," Selima chided him, "so it would behoove you to show your face and circulate among the other guests. The whole point of this is to show them how well you fit in, after all."

"Yes, Lady Selima," Lukas sighed.

"And at least try to look like you're enjoying yourself."

"Yes, Lady Selima."

Lupin showed up just as Selima was wrapping up her lecture. "Well, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves," he observed.

Allegra was giggling happily as she held up a pretty porcelain egg for Blaise and Theo to admire. All the eggs were hollow and filled with little trinkets or treats; Allegra's contained Honeydukes chocolates. Pansy squealed with delight as she found a silver egg that contained a silver bracelet. Arthur Weasley found a small golden egg hidden in a bird's nest up in a tree, and proudly presented it to his wife. She opened it and pulled out a gold locket on a delicate golden chain.

"Oh, how lovely," Molly said. "Perhaps I'll put one of the children's pictures in it."

"Ah, but which child?" Arthur asked with a grin. "You wouldn't want to play favorites, after all. Perhaps I should buy you six more lockets?"

"Goodness, I'd be clinking and rattling as I walked!" Molly laughed. She kissed her husband on the cheek and said, "I guess I'll just put your picture in it, then, dear."

Hermione's keen eye spotted an egg that was cleverly disguised as a rock in the bottom of a small pond in the garden. She dispelled the enchantment and used a levitation spell to raise it up out of the water. It was made of blue porcelain, decorated with a design of gold fishes, and contained a string of pearls. Dylan applauded her and helped her put on the necklace, planting a quick kiss on the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp.

"Very good, Hermione!" he said with a grin as she blushed deeply. "Even I didn't spot that one!"

A wrinkle furrowed Selima's brow as she frowned worriedly. "Oh, Merlin," she muttered. "I hope that Mudblood girl isn't the one who finds the grand prize."

"The girl is annoying, but she's a clever wench," Snape said grudgingly.

"It's not politic to call a heroine of the war a Mudblood," Lupin reminded Selima in a reproving tone. "The Minister of Magic has very strong Muggle sympathies."

"You mean he's fascinated with all those ridiculous Muggle gadgets," Snape said sourly.

"I know, I know," Selima sighed. "It's just that most of the people here will take offense if a Muggle girl takes home the grand prize."

"Let me steer her away from it, then," Lukas said, and went over to join Dylan and Hermione. "I see you're doing well at the hunt, Miss Granger," he said cheerfully. 

"Yes, this is the second one we've found so far," Hermione said proudly, pulling a silver egg out of her pocket to show him.

"The egg in the pond was very well-hidden, difficult to detect even with magic," Lukas praised, and Hermione beamed at him. He leaned over and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Perhaps you should call it a night, before you humiliate the other guests. Elaine Baddock hasn't found even one yet."

Hermione giggled, looking flattered and a little smug. "Well, it wouldn't be fair to take all the prizes," she agreed. She reached up to touch the strand of pearls around her neck. "And I really love this necklace."

"You should thank the hostess for it, then," Lukas told her, and grinned to himself as he watched her go over to offer her thanks to Lady Selima, who was obliged to accept it graciously and conceal her irritation. It was small enough payback for everything she'd put him through tonight. Hermione obviously hadn't noticed his ulterior motives, but Dylan winked at him, then went over to join his girlfriend. After making polite small talk with Lady Selima for a couple of minutes, they strolled through the garden together hand-in-hand, watching the other guests continue the hunt.

Ron found a gold egg hidden in one of the flower beds, and appropriately enough, it was decorated with a floral design and contained a small jeweled brooch shaped like a flower.

"You know, I bet that'd be worth a pretty penny if you sold it," his brother George said, taking it from his hand and examining it closely.

"I'm not going to sell it!" Ron said indignantly, grabbing it back.

"Then what're you going to do with it, Ronnie?" Fred snickered. "Wear it? I'm sure it would look really pretty on you!"

"Of course not, you stupid git!" Ron snapped. "It would probably be rude to sell Lady Selima's gifts--"

"Our little brother is becoming politically savvy," George said with a grin.

"--but obviously I can't wear it myself, so..." Ron blushed a little. "I think it would be all right if I gave it to someone as a gift."

"Our little brother's got a girlfriend!" Fred exclaimed.

"Shhh!" Ron hissed, turning even redder.

"I'm so proud of you!" George said, throwing an arm around Ron's shoulders. "You're turning into a real smooth operator."

"You know, George," Fred said thoughtfully as he looked at the hollow egg. "This gives me an idea for a new product--exploding eggs!"

"That's brilliant!" George said. "They could send out a shower of confetti or a burst of fireworks when they explode! The possibilities are endless!"

"What about Easter eggs that are like Christmas crackers?" Ron suggested, getting caught up in the twins' excitement. "Break them and a prize pops out."

"Damn!" Fred said. "Easter's tomorrow; there's no time to get them ready by then. Wish we'd thought of this sooner."

"We'll have a whole year to prepare for next Easter," George declared, undaunted. "With all that time, we should be able to come up with something really spectacular! Besides, who says you can only sell exploding eggs during Easter?"

Meanwhile, Harry and Tristan simultaneously spotted something shiny up in the branches of a tree. Harry reached for his wand, but stopped when he saw Tristan reach in his pocket and then grimace. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Didn't bring my wand," Tristan replied. "No reason to, since I thought students weren't allowed to do magic outside of school."

"I always carry mine," Harry said. "Just in case of emergencies." He still remembered the Dementors that had attacked him and Dudley during the summer before his fifth year. "But we seem to have Dumbledore's permission; at least, he hasn't stopped anyone from casting spells."

"Guess this one's yours, then, Potter," Tristan said a bit sullenly.

"That doesn't really seem fair," Harry said, pocketing his wand. "Tell you what, why don't we race for it, no magic?" Tristan gave him a puzzled look. "You can climb a tree, can't you?" Harry asked, grinning. "It's not really that high up."

Tristan grinned back, a fierce and competitive gleam in his eyes. "This will be a pre-match, then, before we meet on the Pitch. I won't lose to you, Potter!"

"What on earth are those two idiots doing?" Selima asked.

"Trying to break their necks, it would seem," Snape said sourly.

"I'd better make sure no one gets hurt," Lupin said, heading over to the tree.

Tristan, who was smaller and lighter, scrambled up the tree with the agility of a squirrel. Harry, who didn't really have much experience climbing trees, pulled himself up more by sheer determination than skill. It helped that he was in good shape, thanks to the Physical Defense classes. And at least this tree, unlike the Whomping Willow, wasn't trying to kill him. The branch that held the egg looked too light to support him, so he clung to the trunk of the tree and stretched his arm out as far as he could, but it was just out of his reach.

"It's mine, Potter!" Tristan said triumphantly as he crawled out onto the branch.

"Watch out!" Harry called as the branch sagged dangerously under Tristan's weight. "It's going to break!"

"Just a little further," Tristan murmured to himself, ignoring the warning. "There!" And just as he closed his hand around the egg, the branch cracked and gave way. Harry lunged out and grabbed Tristan's arm, which caused him to lose his balance and they both fell. He grabbed at a branch with his free hand, but it snapped under their combined weight. Harry was bracing himself for impact, when a levitation spell caught them just before they hit the ground, and they landed with only a slightly jarring thump.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, a frantic look in his eyes. 

"Yeah, sure," Tristan replied carelessly, then held out his hand. "And I managed to hang onto the egg!"

"Is a gold egg worth getting killed over?!" Harry shouted, and Tristan stared at him in surprise.

"I hate to say it, Potter," Snape drawled in his deep, sardonic voice, "but you took the words right out of my mouth."

"You were supposed to use magic to get the egg out of the tree," Lupin informed them.

"I didn't have my wand," Tristan said.

"We both spotted it at the same time, and I wanted to play fair, so I said we should get it without magic," Harry said, looking distraught. "It was a stupid idea; it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

Tristan was starring at him, looking puzzled and thoughtful, when Gwendolyn came running over. "Tristan! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mum," he replied calmly, rising to his feet and dusting off his robes.

A crowd was beginning to gather around them, and Lukas tried to defuse the situation. "Boys will be boys, Gwen," he said soothingly. "There's no harm done. Surely this isn't the first scrape that Tristan's gotten into?"

"No," Gwendolyn sighed. "He actually did fall out of a tree and break his arm when he was eight years old, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack during his last Quidditch match."

Robert Ames grinned, looking more proud than worried by the memory of his son's Quidditch match, and his wife glared at him.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Ames," Harry said remorsefully.

Gwendolyn's expression softened and she smiled at him kindly. "It's not your fault, Harry. Tristan's been getting into mischief ever since he was a baby. And I saw that you tried to catch him when he fell. Thank you."

The Ames family walked off, and Harry stared after them, still looking guilty. The crowd began to disperse and continue with the Easter egg hunt, looking a little disappointed that the excitement was over.

"It's all right, Harry," Lupin said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "No one was hurt."

"I could've killed Tristan," Harry whispered. "The way I got Cedric killed."

"Oh, Harry," Lupin said, his eyes filled with concern, "it's not the same thing."

By this time, Sirius and Branwen had joined them. "Indeed," Branwen said firmly. "Falling out of a tree is hardly the same thing as a Death Eater attack."

"And you didn't tell that kid to climb out on that branch," Sirius pointed out. "In fact, you tried to stop him."

"Perhaps Mr. Ames-Diggory should've been a Gryffindor," Branwen said dryly. "Hufflepuffs are usually more sensible."

"Ah, but the competitive spirit can overwhelm common sense at times," Sirius said with a grin, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders. "And the boy is a Seeker; in fact, Gryffindor has a match against Hufflepuff coming up soon, right? The injuries you've received playing Quidditch are probably worse than the ones you would've gotten falling out of the tree even if Moony hadn't caught you with his spell."

"I've never quite understood the fascination with a game where the equipment is enchanted to attack the players," Branwen sighed. 

"It makes the game more exciting, Branwen!" Sirius argued. 

Branwen gave him a dubious look and said, "Sometimes I think that all Quidditch players have taken a Bludger to the head one time too many." Lupin and Sirius laughed, and after a moment, Harry laughed along with them. The three adults smiled with relief.

A commotion arose from the other end of the garden, and they went over to investigate. It turned out that Aric had found the grand prize, shrunken down by magic and hidden with concealing spells in the eye of a stone serpent sculpture in the garden. He retrieved it with a flourish of his wand, and the egg popped out of the stone and instantly resumed its normal size and shape. The assembled guests applauded politely and Lady Selima congratulated him. 

"Too bad that slimy git had to win the grand prize," Dylan muttered as he clapped his hands together halfheartedly.

"Shh!" Hermione scolded, although she didn't like Aric much, either. The Slytherin boy was smiling happily, looking pleased with himself; he looked quite different without his usual condescending sneer on his face. "Maybe he and Theodore can still become friends one day," she said hopefully, although without much certainty.

"When hell freezes over," Dylan snorted.

"But Professor Snape used to hate Professor Lupin, so anything's possible," Hermione argued.

"If Aric and Theo ever become friends, I'll eat my hat," Dylan said.

"You don't have a hat," Hermione pointed out.

Dylan laughed. "Then I'll wear Luna's lion hat and run around the school in Gryffindor robes!"

Hermione laughed as well. "I would love to see that! What a pity that it will probably never happen."

"Well, if I knew that sort of thing turned you on..." Dylan purred into her ear softly, and Hermione's face turned bright red.

"Dylan Rosier!" she exclaimed in a voice that sounded more like Professor Blackmore's, and hit him on the arm.

"Ouch," Dylan said, grinning unrepentantly as he rubbed his arm. "It's a good thing I like feisty women."

"Keep it up," Hermione said, still in that stern tone of voice, "and you'll see just how 'feisty' I can get."

"Is that a threat or a promise? Ow!"

Meanwhile, Aric opened the egg and found that it contained a beautiful jade bracelet shaped like a coiled serpent. He smiled, accepting the congratulations of the other guests, and felt rather proud of himself when Lupin and Diggory complimented him on the way he had detected the hidden egg and dispelled the enchantments.

"The spells are quite complicated; it takes a delicate touch to undo them properly," Lupin said. "Actually, it's good practice for some of the advanced curse-breaking spells that we'll be covering in class. Remind me to give you five points for Slytherin when we get back to school."

"Thank you, Professor," Aric said. The Easter egg hunt, as silly as it was, had managed to distract him from his worries for a little while, and he felt much better.

The party began winding down after all the eggs were found, and the guests returned home soon after that. Still feeling pleased with himself, Aric offered the bracelet to his mother. "Would you like it, Mum? It's not really my style, and it looks a little small for me, anyway."

"It's beautiful, dear," Alison said with a smile. "But why don't you save it for a betrothal gift? I'm sure Miranda will love it."

And instantly Aric's good mood evaporated, and all his worries returned. He went to his room and stared at the bracelet, a brooding expression on his face, then put it back in the egg, which he angrily stuffed in the bottom of one of his dresser drawers, beneath a stack of socks and underwear.

*** 

The birthday party for Lupin the next day was a much more low-key affair. Sirius, Branwen, and Harry came, of course, as did Lukas. The latter's presence probably accounted for the absence of Draco and Narcissa, who did not show up but sent a gift saying that Narcissa was still sick and Draco was looking after her. They didn't play any games, but simply chatted and enjoyed each other's company as they ate a lunch and birthday cake prepared by Vorcher. After dessert, Lupin opened his presents. He received books from Lukas, Sirius and Branwen, and Narcissa and Draco. Harry and, oddly enough, Lady Selima each gave him one of the small wolf good luck charms that had become popular recently.

Lupin grinned at Selima, pleased and touched that she had not only given him a gift, but one that acknowledged his wolfish nature. She retorted in a cool voice, "There is no disguising what you are, Professor, and with all the trouble that you Gryffindors get into, it seems to me that you need all the good luck you can get." Lupin just laughed and thanked her.

Snape, looking rather embarrassed, gave him an Easter basket from Honeydukes filled with chocolate eggs and bunnies, marshmallow chicks, and jelly beans. "Severus always gives me an Easter basket every year," he informed the others cheerfully. "I guess this year you could call it a combination birthday and Easter basket!"

Snape flushed and growled, "It's the typically childish sort of thing that appeals to your Gryffindor nature."

Lupin was happy with all of his presents, but the gift from Theo and Dylan made him laugh with delight. It was one of Cassidy Sinclair's toy wolf cubs, but not a model currently on the market; its fur was brown streaked with gray, like Lupin's hair.

"Thank you so much!" Lupin said, laughing as the toy wolf squirmed in his arms, licking his face and wagging its tail furiously.

Theo and Dylan smiled proudly. "We commissioned it specially from Mr. Sinclair," Dylan said. "He was more than happy to do it, since it was for you."

Snape glowered at his sons. "The two of you are dead meat," he hissed softly, but the boys just grinned, and Lupin thought it was a sign of how far they had come, especially Theo. They no longer flinched every time Snape raised his voice; he was no longer just their teacher, but their father. They were a family.

"I heard that, Severus," Lupin said in a mild voice. "Please don't threaten our sons."

"I am not having a yappy little mutt running around my quarters," Snape said huffily.

"It's not like a real dog; you can turn it off," Theodore said helpfully.

"And it won't make a mess on the carpet!" Dylan laughed.

"And you promised me that I could have a pet dog," Lupin said in a wheedling tone of voice.

"When did I say that?" Snape asked with a frown.

"Remember back in fifth year, when we were talking about what we were going to do when we graduated?" Lupin reminded him. "We were going to run a potions shop together, and I said we should live together in a cottage with a picket fence and a pet dog. And you said it would probably be an apartment over the shop rather than a cottage, but that I could have the pet dog if I wanted."

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin, that was over twenty years ago!" Snape snapped. "We were a couple of foolish teenagers back then."

Sirius snickered. "I didn't know you were such a romantic, Snape."

Snape shot a murderous glare his way. "The cottage, the picket fence, and the dog were all Lupin's idea, not mine." He turned back to Lupin and added in a tone of scathing sarcasm, "And you will note that we are not running a potions shop together."

"You teach Potions," Lupin said. "Isn't that close enough?"

"The terms of the agreement have not been met," Snape said adamantly.

"Well, perhaps you do take after your mother's side of the family, after all," Lupin said with a sly grin, then laughed as both Snape and Selima glared at him. He decided that he'd teased his lover enough, and relented and said, "Don't worry, Sev. I'll keep him in my office."

"See that you do," Snape growled. "After all, we already have one canine in the family--you. I think that's quite enough."

"Now what should we name you?" Lupin asked the cub, who barked happily and licked his face.

"It's a bloody toy, Lupin," Snape said. "It doesn't need a name."

"I'd suggest Romulus," Dylan said with a grin, "except that Allegra's already named her cub that."

"She thinks that you're descended from the real Romulus and Remus," Theodore added.

"Yes, I did tell her that Remus is an old family name," Lupin said. "And there is an old family legend that says Remus and Romulus were really shapeshifters, and not just humans raised by a wolf. But there's no way to know if that story is anything more than a legend. After all, according to some legends, Merlin is still alive and sealed away in a tree where the enchantress Nimue left him centuries ago."

"That's not really true, is it, Professor?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

Lupin smiled. "Well, nobody really knows, Harry. But I rather doubt it. Tales tend to become exaggerated and twisted over time."

"There are a few people I wouldn't mind sealing away in a tree," Snape muttered under his breath, glancing at Harry and Sirius.

"Be nice, love," Lupin said.

"I'm a Slytherin, Lupin," Snape retorted, sounding offended. "It's impossible for me to be 'nice'."

"Maybe you could name it 'Fluffy' after the dog that was guarding the Philosopher's Stone," Harry joked.

"He rather looks like a Fluffy, doesn't he?" Lupin said, cuddling the toy wolf.

Snape groaned. "Then that thing is definitely staying in your office! I refuse to allow a creature called 'Fluffy' into the dungeon!"

"You could call it 'Cerberus' instead," Branwen suggested. "That's the real name of the three-headed dog from Greek mythology. It's a properly fierce name, and not at all cute."

"Oh, yes," Snape said sarcastically as the wolf cub licked Lupin's nose. "It certainly looks very fierce."

But Lupin liked the name, as did Dylan and Theo, so the wolf cub was dubbed "Cerberus" in spite of Snape's disparaging comments.

"Maybe you could get Sinclair to give it two more heads," Snape said sourly.

"He can be a watchdog and guard my office," Lupin said whimsically, patting the toy on its fuzzy head.

"What is it going to do, lick any intruders to death? Nauseate them with its sheer cuteness?"

"Perhaps we could have Mr. Sinclair install some sharp teeth into its mouth," Dylan said.

"Well, I wouldn't want Cerberus to bite any of the students by mistake," Lupin said with a smile. "Hmm, perhaps I could use him as a prop in class when I'm lecturing about werewolves."

Snape groaned, "Whose idea was it to put a Gryffindor in charge of a Dark Arts class?"

"Another Gryffindor," Lukas reminded him dryly. "Dumbledore seems to have a rather odd sense of humor."

"It's a Gryffindor trait," Branwen said.

"Should I be offended by that?" Sirius wondered out loud.

"It can't be that bad," Harry said with a grin. "She did marry you, after all."

"So you must love me for my Gryffindor sense of humor, then," Sirius said to Branwen.

"It might be a little more accurate to say that I love you, but merely tolerate your sense of humor, dear," Branwen said in a slightly patronizing tone, and Sirius pretended to pout. The others laughed, except for Snape, who merely smirked, and Selima, who sighed and regarded them all with a look of long-suffering resignation.

After the party was over, Lupin and Snape and the boys began packing to return to Hogwarts. Selima met them in the drawing room when they were ready to leave.

"Before you go, I wanted to give you these," she said, handing Snape two framed pictures. "The photographer just owled them to me; I paid extra for a rush job, since I thought you would like to see them before you left. I think they came out quite well."

As she had promised (or threatened, if you looked at it from Snape's point of view), Lady Selima had arranged a session with a photographer to take a family portrait while they were at Snape Manor over the holidays. Snape had grumbled quite a bit, but had given in to the inevitable and posed for the picture, knowing that his mother would not stop nagging at him until he did. It actually had not taken that long, as the photographer had seemed a little nervous about being around an irate former Death Eater, and had worked quickly and efficiently.

Lupin and the boys crowded around Snape eagerly to get a look at the photos. One was a formal family portrait just of the Snapes: Selima, Severus, and Theodore. Snape looked sour and intimidating--in short, the same as always--while Selima and Theodore looked properly solemn and grave. The other photo included Lupin and Dylan, and was a bit more casual, although they all looked resplendent in their finest dress robes. In it, Snape continued to glare at the camera, but Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore were smiling happily, and Lady Selima had allowed a very faint and cool smile to cross her face.

"I think they came out quite well indeed," Lupin agreed. "May we have a copy?"

"Those are for you to keep," Selima told him. "I had the photographer make up two sets of prints. I assumed that Severus would want one set to keep in his quarters at the school, while of course the other shall remain here at the Manor."

"Thank you, Lady Selima," Lupin said. "That's very thoughtful of you." Selima looked a little uncomfortable, and Lupin added in a gently teasing tone, "Or is it insulting to refer to a Slytherin as 'thoughtful'?"

"It doesn't matter," Selima retorted, a hint of dry humor in her voice. "I do not expect good manners from Gryffindors."

"Then you will never be disappointed," Snape said in his smoothly sarcastic tone of voice, and Lupin laughed good-naturedly, then elbowed Snape in the side. "Thank you for the pictures, Mother," Snape said, taking the hint.

"You're welcome, Severus," Selima replied. "It is only proper, after all, for the Lord to have a picture of his family."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said. He decided that maybe having a family photo wasn't so bad after all. He didn't particularly enjoy staring at his own image (vanity was never one of his flaws, except perhaps when it came to his pride in his potion-brewing skills), but he never tired of looking at Lupin and Dylan and Theodore. It was a reminder that he had a family--one of choice rather than blood. 

Although Selima was of his blood, and things were much better between them since they had finally resolved some of their differences after Theodore was injured. It would never exactly be a comfortable or affectionate relationship, at least not in comparison to a sentimental Gryffindor family like the Weasleys, but they had reached an understanding. And as he politely bid goodbye to his mother and promised to visit again later, he realized that for the first time, he was not dreading having to return to Snape Manor.

*** 

The Quidditch season resumed when school started again; the following weekend, Gryffindor played against Hufflepuff. The teachers were on alert; Madam Pomfrey stood by to deal with possible injuries; and at the school governors' request, the Ministry sent Aurors to supervise the match and watch for trouble. Dawlish and Williamson sat in the stands with the teachers, occasionally looking up to glare at Tonks and Kingsley, who patrolled the skies above the Pitch on their broomsticks.

Gryffindor soon pulled ahead by twenty points, but everyone knew that the match would almost certainly be decided by the Seekers. Tristan circled the Pitch, a look of intense concentration on his face, ignoring both the Aurors overhead and the shouts of encouragement from the Hufflepuff spectators. Then the Snitch appeared, and the crowd began shouting wildly as Harry and Tristan raced after it, following the Snitch as it swooped up and down, and kept changing direction from left to right without any warning.

"Ames-Diggory is keeping up with Potter, staying right on his tail!" Dennis Creevey shouted excitedly from the announcer's booth. "Quite impressive, really, considering that Potter is flying a Firebolt! This could be a very close game! Will the new Hufflepuff Seeker upset Gryffindor's champion?"

The two Seekers were so intent on their pursuit that they forgot to watch for the Bludgers. "Look out, Tristan!" Zacharias Smith, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers, shouted, but it was too late. The Gryffindor Bludger slammed into Tristan's right arm, and he screamed in pain as he felt his arm break with a sharp, cracking sound.

Harry abruptly pulled up and asked anxiously, "Are you all right?" 

Tristan ignored him, continuing to chase after the Snitch, even though his arm was dangling uselessly at his side. Madam Hooch was shouting at him to stop, but he ignored her, too. He drew closer to the Snitch and reached out with his left hand, which meant that he had to release his hold on the broomstick handle, since his right hand was unable to grasp anything. Gripping the broomstick with only his legs, he grabbed at the Snitch, but it was a little quicker than he had anticipated, and he stretched too far forward and lost his balance. He managed to keep one knee hooked over the broomstick, but he probably would have fallen if Harry had not grabbed him just then and helped him regain his seat on the broom.

"What the hell are you doing, you idiot?" Tristan growled, angry that he'd been rescued by his rival, the boy responsible for Cedric's death. "Why aren't you chasing the bloody Snitch? You could win the game easily, with my arm like this."

"There are some things more important than winning a game!" Harry retorted, looking just as angry. "Do you think your life is worth a stupid Quidditch trophy?!"

Tristan was taken aback for a moment by the other boy's vehemence. Then he hissed, "What do you care about my life? You let my cousin die!"

Harry instantly turned white, looking guilty and grief-stricken. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're right, it is my fault that Cedric died. If I hadn't insisted that we take the Cup together, he wouldn't have been killed."

Tristan was startled by the guilt and remorse on Harry's face and in his voice. His resolve wavered slightly, and he firmly reminded himself that he hated the Gryffindor boy. "So you're sorry--is that supposed to make me feel better?" Tristan demanded.

Harry shook his head. "No, I know that an apology won't bring Cedric back and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I can't just keep playing Quidditch when you're in danger. I know it doesn't make up for what I did to Cedric, but I can't just let his cousin fall and maybe break his neck while I go chase a stupid Snitch!"

"I don't need you to protect me, Potter!" Tristan retorted, but he felt more confused than angry. 

Madam Hooch and the other players had gathered around them by now. "You should not blame Mr. Potter for your cousin's death, Mr. Ames-Diggory," Hooch said firmly. "And you should not blame yourself, Mr. Potter. The person who is truly responsible is You-Know..." Hooch paused and took a deep breath. "Lord Voldemort killed Cedric, along with countless others, and he has paid with his life. Your cousin has already been avenged by Mr. Potter, Tristan. Let Cedric's memory rest in peace."

"It's not Harry's fault," Zacharias told Tristan gently. "He didn't know that the Death Eaters had turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey; no one did. I saw it from the stands; he saved Cedric from the giant spider, and Cedric would have let him claim the trophy alone. He could have taken all the glory for himself, but he wanted to play fair, so they claimed the Cup together." Harry looked a little surprised by Zacharias's defense of him, and the Hufflepuff boy smiled. "I admit, I had my doubts about you at first, Potter, but you've more than proven yourself to me since then. I know you saved us all from You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters."

Harry looked embarrassed by the praise. "Cedric and I were competing against each other in the Tournament, but he treated me like a friend, not a rival," Harry said quietly, turning to Tristan. "He helped me out in a tough spot, because I had helped him once before. He was...honorable and brave." Tears filled Harry's eyes. "If I could trade places with him and bring him back, I would!"

"Now, now, Mr. Potter," Hooch said kindly, "you know that's impossible. Besides, do you really think that's what Cedric would have wanted, for a friend to die in his place?"

Tristan had never considered that question before. But when he thought about it, he had to reluctantly agree that his cousin had been too noble to willingly let a friend sacrifice his life for him. And he had not thought that Harry would still feel guilt over Cedric's death; he had assumed that the Boy Who Lived was basking in his glory as the Savior of the Wizarding World and had long forgotten about Cedric, but maybe he had been wrong about that. 

"Come, Mr. Ames-Diggory," Hooch said, interrupting his thoughts. "You cannot safely play in this condition. Madam Pomfrey needs to tend to your injury."

"We cannot play without a Seeker," the Hufflepuff captain said. "We will concede the match to Gryffindor."

"But--" Harry started to protest.

The captain and the other Hufflepuff team members smiled. "Tristan was injured during normal game play," the captain said. "It's an unfortunate accident, but it's one of the risks of the game. Of course we wanted to win, but it's a fair result, and we accept it. And Tristan's life is worth far more to us than any Quidditch victory. You have our gratitude, Harry, for saving him." The other Hufflepuffs nodded and added their own thanks.

Tristan felt touched by his teammates' concern, and a little irked that he owed his life to Potter--maybe. He was fairly certain that Hooch or one of the teachers would have been able to rescue him before he hit the ground, but he couldn't deny that Harry had helped him. Feeling confused and very subdued, he allowed himself to be led back down to the ground to see Madam Pomfrey.

*** 

"Does the boy have to be a bloody martyr?" Snape asked irritably as he watched from the stands. "Is he going to rescue someone from the opposite team in every single match Gryffindor plays?"

"It's not Harry's fault, Severus," Lupin said patiently. "Would you rather he have let Dylan or Tristan fall?"

"Well, not Dylan, anyway," Snape conceded.

"Severus!"

Snape chuckled at the outrage in Lupin's voice. "All right, all right, I suppose I don't want to see the Hufflepuff brat break his neck, either. At least I don't have to worry about Draco trying to play the noble hero."

"Are you sure about that, Sev?" Lupin teased. "He did break off chasing the Snitch to help Dylan and Theo, after all."

"Stop trying to corrupt my Slytherins with your Gryffindor ideals," Snape said, glaring at the werewolf. "Draco is a good Slytherin; he knew that it wouldn't be wise to let his Head of House's sons fall to their deaths. It was pure expediency and self-preservation."

"I'm sure," Lupin said skeptically.

"But just to be on the safe side, I'm going to tell Malfoy that if someone from the other team falls off their broom, he'd better keep chasing after the damned Snitch."

"Severus!" Lupin cried, and Snape grinned wickedly at him, feeling pleased that he'd gotten a rise out of his lover. The werewolf spent so much time teasing Snape, that he felt a bit of satisfaction at getting some of his own back.

"You're just baiting me," Lupin accused.

"That's right," Snape purred. "You Gryffindors always were a bit slow on the uptake."

Lupin glared at him for a moment, then gave in and laughed. "You're a devious bastard, but I love you anyway."

"Don't say that in public, Lupin."

"What, 'devious bastard'?"

"You know damn well what I mean."

Lupin chuckled, then leaned over and whispered in a sultry voice, "Then perhaps we should go somewhere more private, where I can say whatever I please to you." 

Snape's pale face turned red. "Bloody hormonal werewolf," he grumbled under his breath. "I can't believe the full moon is coming up again so quickly." Lupin just smiled at him, a very sensual and inviting smile, his blue eyes half-lidded and glassy with lust. 

The Potions Master and the werewolf hastily departed from the stands and headed back to the castle as Dawlish and Williamson watched with distasteful looks on their faces. "Perverts," Williamson muttered disgustedly.

The other teachers gave the two Aurors hostile looks, and the Aurors glared back at them defiantly. Dumbledore rose to his feet and said in a voice that was polite but lacking any warmth, "Thank you for coming, gentlemen, but as you can see, the game is over and your presence is no longer required." Dawlish and Williamson got up and left without another word.

*** 

One day after school let out, Lupin took the Floo to the clinic to see Takeshi. "Hello, Remus," the mediwizard said with a smile as he stirred a cauldron of Wolfsbane Potion. He stared past Lupin, as if expecting to see someone following behind the werewolf. "No students serving detention today?" he asked lightly.

"No," Lupin replied, his expression solemn. "I came to see you today."

"I see," Takeshi said, the smile fading from his face. He stood there for a moment, just staring at Lupin, then went over and closed the door. The bitter fumes of the simmering potion became stronger with the door shut, but both men ignored them. Takeshi resumed stirring the potion and asked, "What do you want, Remus?"

"You know about Aric's betrothal," Lupin said.

"Yes," Takeshi replied in an emotionless voice.

"He's very confused and upset."

"I know," Takeshi said without looking up from the cauldron.

"He loves you." 

"I know," Takeshi repeated.

"And you love him," Lupin persisted.

"That isn't really any of your business, Remus," Takeshi said in a gentle voice that softened the bluntness of his words. "But yes, I do."

"Then you have to tell him!" Lupin exclaimed in frustration.

"He already knows," Takeshi said flatly. 

"Aric is a little dense, Takeshi. Even if it seems obvious to you, you still might have to spell it out for him..."

"He's not as dense as you think, Remus. He knows; I saw it in his eyes. But it changes nothing."

"But--" Lupin started to protest.

"Remus," Takeshi said, beginning to sound a little impatient, "I know you mean well, but you know that Aric's family would disown him if he became involved with me."

"It isn't right, what they're doing to him!" Lupin cried, his voice filled with anger, although it was directed against the Dietriches, not Takeshi. "It's reprehensible, to emotionally blackmail their own child that way!"

"I agree, Remus," Takeshi said quietly. "But if I ask him to give up his family for me, how does that make me any better than them?"

"It's not the same thing," Lupin argued. "You're not the one forcing him to make the choice."

"It amounts to the same thing, Remus," Takeshi replied. "I know that his family will disown him if we become lovers. So in essence, I would be asking him to choose me over his family, and I will not do that."

"But he loves you," Lupin said helplessly.

"I know," Takeshi said, smiling sadly. "But love isn't always enough. Western and Asian literature is full of tragic tales of thwarted romance. I admit that I've enjoyed reading some of those tales, but it's another thing entirely to find yourself living one out."

"But..." Lupin said, his voice trailing off as he was unable to come up with any convincing arguments.

"This is a decision that Aric has to make on his own," Takeshi said. "If he decides to choose me, then I will welcome him with open arms, but to be honest, I don't think that he will. He loves his family too much. I can understand how he feels; if I were in his position, I don't think that I would be able to give up my family for him."

"If they really loved him, they wouldn't force him to make such a choice!" Lupin said angrily.

"I know," Takeshi said softly, "and I think that is why he will stay with them. If he calls their bluff and they disown him, then he'll be forced to acknowledge that they do not love him the way he thought that they did. But if he obeys them and goes through with the marriage, then everything can go back to the way it was, and he will be part of a loving family once again."

"But the whole thing would be a charade," Lupin whispered, feeling a little sick. "And he would know it."

Takeshi gave him an almost pitying smile. "You have been with Professor Snape long enough to understand that most of Slytherin pureblood society is a carefully arranged charade, Remus. Or at least, you should have realized that by now."

"I guess I'm the one who's a bit dense," Lupin said ruefully. "I'm sorry, Takeshi. I wanted to help, but you've already thought things through, and I've probably made you feel worse without doing any good. Severus is always scolding me for meddling in other people's affairs."

"I don't hold it against you, Remus," Takeshi said. "It is in a Gryffindor's nature to meddle, I suppose, as it is in a Slytherin's to scheme, or a Ravenclaw's to reason things out logically. And if you'll pardon my saying so, you Gryffindors tend to see things as black and white when sometimes there is no right answer."

"Ouch," Lupin said, wincing. "I suppose I deserve that. Branwen has said the same thing to Sirius often enough, but I never thought it applied to me. But you're right; I keep wanting to fix things and make a happy ending come about..."

"You helped the Order of the Phoenix bring about a happy ending for the wizarding world by defeating the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters," Takeshi told him. "And you gave Theodore and Dylan a happy ending by giving them a family--and you helped reunite Professor Snape with his family. I think that's more than enough for one man to do, Remus. It's not your job to create a happy ending for every person in the wizarding world."

"No," Lupin said sadly, "but you are my friend and Aric is my student, and I wish I could make you both happy."

"My mother told me many fairy tales when I was a child," Takeshi said quietly. "Not all of them had happy endings. I love Aric, and I want him to do whatever will make him most happy, even if it means that I will lose him."

"You love him more than his family does, then," Lupin sighed. "I apologize for my meddling, Takeshi."

"You were trying to be a good friend, Remus. I thank you for your concern. But I really must get back to this potion; it will be ruined if I neglect it much longer..."

Lupin took the hint and returned to Hogwarts, feeling chastened, ashamed, and incredibly frustrated. He wanted so badly to be able to help Aric and Takeshi, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do. He should have known better than to meddle, especially after Severus's last warning, but he hated seeing the two of them so miserable. In spite of his talk with Lukas at the party, Aric had seemed as torn and unhappy as ever since returning to school. Takeshi had said that he wanted Aric to choose whatever would make him happiest, but Lupin feared that it wasn't so much a question of what would make him most happy, but rather, which choice would cause the least misery.

*** 

The following week, Lukas was back in Courtroom Ten, being interrogated by Lamont Whitby, who was questioning his ability to run the Diggory estate.

"You may have Diggory blood," the lawyer argued, "but there is more to being the head of a family than simply having the right name and bloodline. The Diggory estate consists of a considerable amount of money and property, and you have no experience in managing such things."

"Was there a question in there somewhere?" Lukas asked sarcastically.

Whitby's face flushed with anger, but Madam Bones interrupted before he could speak. "Do you have any experience in managing such things, then, Master Diggory?" she asked politely.

She was obviously expecting a "no," but to the surprise of nearly everyone in the courtroom, Lukas replied, "In a way, I already have some experience in being the head of a large family."

"Please explain, Master Diggory," Bones said, looking intrigued.

"As you know," Lukas said, "over the years, I have organized the majority of the werewolves in England into a pack." He added a little pointedly, "The same pack that fought against the Death Eaters in the final battle." Whitby and Amos glared at him, but Bones merely nodded and motioned for him to continue. "I am the leader of that pack--the head, if you will, of a clan of werewolves." Whitby sneered, but Bones looked thoughtful. 

"It was my job," Lukas continued, "to keep them fed and safe and sheltered. I have been responsible for organizing food and housing for anywhere from five to fifty werewolves at a time. It was difficult for werewolves to find employment up until recently, so we all pooled our resources together, and I was the one who distributed them evenly, so that the entire pack was cared for. Sometimes we all went a little hungry, but no one ever starved."

"Very noble of you, I'm sure," Whitby said in a condescending tone, "but I'm not convinced that your skills would carry over into managing the Diggory estate."

"Madam Bones, if I may?" Morrigan asked, rising to her feet, and Bones nodded at her. "Let us ask Master Diggory how he would run the estate if it were in his care. That should answer Mr. Whitby's concerns."

A very faint smile crept into Bone's stern expression. "Well then, Master Diggory?" she prompted.

Without hesitation, Lukas began listing the Diggory assets, in much greater detail than Whitby had thought he was aware of, judging by his pop-eyed expression. Then he began describing business investments he would make to increase the family finances, and suggested selling or renting a couple of properties which were currently unused or unprofitable.

A collective murmur of surprise and confusion buzzed through the room, among both the Wizengamot and the spectators. Lukas waited patiently while the Wizengamot consulted with each other, obviously trying to decide whether his suggestions were sound or not; most of the purebloods didn't have much of a head for business. Percy Weasley seemed to, though, because he gave Lukas a startled and respectful look, then began speaking earnestly to his father and Madam Bones.

Finally, the discussion came to an end and Bones rapped her gavel on her desk to indicate that the trial was resuming. "Master Diggory's ability to run the estate does not appear to be in question," she declared. "In fact, the Diggory finances would likely be better off if his suggestions were implemented."

"I object!" Whitby shouted. "Those aren't his words, but Selima Snape's!" He turned to glare at Lukas. "Lady Selima coached you beforehand, didn't she? Everyone knows that she comes from a prominent merchant family!"

"Lady Selima is a longtime friend and ally of my parents," Lukas replied calmly. "There is no reason why I should not ask her for a little business advice."

"The Snapes seek to control the Diggory estate through you!" Whitby shouted dramatically, pointing his finger at Lukas.

Lukas fought down the urge to growl, and smiled at Whitby with a patronizing air, the way one might smile at a child who has just said something amusingly foolish. "I am no one's puppet," he said. "I would not bow to Lord Voldemort, and I will not bow to Lady Snape--although personally, I find Lady Snape much more intimidating than You-Know-Who." 

The courtroom burst into laughter, and Bones pounded her gavel to restore order. "It is common for the pureblood families to make financial and political alliances, and I think it would be to the Diggory family's benefit to ally with such an old and respected family as the Snapes. Lady Selima might give me advice from time to time, but I shall be the one to decide whether or not I shall follow that advice." In a quiet but passionate voice he added, "I swear on my father's name that I will do nothing to disgrace that name."

Many of the spectators and Wizengamot members looked impressed by his speech. Whitby, looking angry and defeated, had no further questions, so Bones adjourned court for the day, with the trial to resume the following week.

*** 

After the trial, Lukas went to the clinic to meet Ash for lunch. While he did love his pack, he couldn't help but feel that it was a poor substitute for his after-court trysts with Narcissa. When he arrived at the clinic, he found the other werewolf gloating happily over a bagful of Muggle devices while Takeshi watched with a look of amusement on his face.

"Look, Lukas!" Ash said, the cynical, scar-faced werewolf sounding as eager as a child with a new toy. "Takeshi's brother sent him a bunch of new video games for me! Most of them come out in Japan first before they're released here..."

Lukas smiled and shook his head, watching Ash manipulate the buttons of a hand-held game device as two cartoon characters battled each other on the tiny screen. "Can you even read or speak Japanese, Ash?"

"Not really," the werewolf said with a shrug. "Though I've played enough of these things to pick up a few words here and there. But you see, there are only a few buttons and controls on the device, which means that there are a limited number of combinations that can be used as game commands. It only takes a brief period of time to experiment and figure them all out. Besides, if I really get stumped, I can always ask Takeshi to translate the instructions for me."

"Are you planning to play with those things or sell them?" Lukas asked wryly.

Ash switched off the device with a little sigh and said, "Sell them, of course. But since most of my customers don't understand Japanese, I have to play the games first in order to figure out the instructions and commands for them."

"Of course," Lukas said, a bit skeptically.

"Besides," Ash added practically, "this way I can charge them extra for providing the instructions."

Lukas scratched his head in bewilderment. "Why on earth do they want to play games that they can't understand?"

"Because it's 'cool' to have the newest, hottest games that no one else in England has," Ash explained. "It's like getting the latest model of a racing broomstick before anyone else does. And there's the added furtive thrill of owning Muggle technology. I assure you, I can get a premium price for these games."

Lukas shook his head. "I'll take your word for it, Ash. I never quite understood the appeal of those games to begin with."

"They're actually kind of fun," Ash said cheerfully. "Probably a dreadful waste of time for kids who are supposed to be studying for their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, though. I'll give you your cut after I sell these, Takeshi."

The mediwizard winced. "Please don't call it my 'cut,' Ash. I'm not a smuggler; I'm only getting a few toys for a friend as a favor. Just pay me back what they originally cost, and I'll pay back my brother."

"That's a matter of semantics," Lukas told him.

"Call it what you will, Lukas," Takeshi said loftily. "I'm merely giving Ash some toys. It's none of my business what he does with them afterwards."

Lukas laughed. "We're going to get some lunch; did you want to come with us?"

"No, thank you," Takeshi replied. "My mother sent over some food earlier; she's always worried that I'm not getting enough to eat. I need to finish up some paperwork here, and then I have a shift at St. Mungo's."

"All right," Lukas said. "Try not to work too hard."

"I'm fine," Takeshi said. "I prefer to keep busy these days."

Lukas knew that probably meant that he was pulling extra shifts in order to try and keep his mind off of Aric. He and Ash exchanged a brief, significant look, then said goodbye to Takeshi and left the clinic.

"So what is that idiot pureblood boy going to do?" Ash growled as they walked down the street together.

"You know about all that, then?" Lukas asked. Ash had formed a suprisingly close friendship with the mediwizard, considering that Ash despised most humans. But he had gradually warmed up to Takeshi after he had worked at the clinic for awhile, and when he had discovered that the young Japanese wizard was not only familiar with Muggle devices, but actually had access to a steady supply of them in Japan through his brother, that had seemed to clinch their friendship. Ash took an almost childlike delight in Muggle technology in spite of--or perhaps because of--the fact that he had never had much of a real childhood growing up.

"Yes," Ash replied in a gruff voice. "You never should have brought that kid to the clinic in the first place."

"Believe me, I wasn't trying to play matchmaker," Lukas retorted. "I never dreamed that anything like this could have happened, considering the boy's typical pureblood prejudices. He's not really so bad, though. I think he's trying to work up the nerve to stand up to his family, but..." Lukas sighed sadly. "I don't know if he'll succeed. For him, it's as if he's trying to go up against his pack."

"I know," Ash said. "Takeshi explained it to me. But his pack leader is not a good one, to force the boy to make such a choice."

Lukas smiled at him, looking quizzical and a bit concerned. "I heard rumors that you were trying to mend our young mediwizard's broken heart. It caused some gossip when the two of you left the party together."

Ash shook his head. "To comfort him, is all. I like him. Maybe under different circumstances, I could have loved him, but..." He smiled wistfully. "I never believed in all that mating for life stuff, you know, although most of the pack believes that their perfect soulmate is out there somewhere. I think it's Lupin's and Snape's influence--that unbelievable romance between a werewolf and a pureblood former Death Eater. Anyway, Takeshi isn't a wolf, but...it seems that boy is meant to be his mate. No matter what happens, I don't think he will ever be able to give his heart to another."

"Lord, what fools we mortals be," Lukas muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" Ash asked.

"Nothing," Lukas sighed. "Just misquoting Shakespeare. Where do you want to eat?"

"What about the Leaky Cauldron?"

"No!" Lukas said sharply; he didn't need any more reminders of Narcissa.

Ash gave him a shrewd look, but didn't press him on it. "We could go to the Sakura, but then Haruko will probably ask us how Takeshi is doing..."

Lukas grimaced. "Yes, I'd rather not face his mother right now. Somehow I have the feeling that she's very good at detecting lies."

"There's a nice little cafe near the Magical Menagerie that just opened a few weeks ago," Ash suggested. "Nothing fancy--mainly sandwiches, tea, and coffee, but it's cheap and the food's good."

"Sounds good," Lukas said. "We can stop by and visit Kyra at the Menagerie afterwards."

*** 

Meanwhile, at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, a wizard showed up at the door dragging a huge crate behind him with a levitation spell; he looked to be in his mid-thirties, but he had a cheerful, boyish face. His robes were torn, patched, and stained, and there were numerous bruises and scratches visible on his face and arms, but he was grinning proudly.

"Mr. Jigger!" the wizard called. "Look what I've brought you!"

"Good Lord, Davy!" Jigger exclaimed in surprise. "I thought you were still recovering from that Erumpent attack!"

Davy Gudgeon, who was known more for his bravery than his wits, waved his hand airily. "Oh, I always heal up quickly. The Healers at St. Mungo's say it's something of a miracle."

Jigger privately thought the real miracle was that Davy had managed to live long enough to reach his thirties, considering his dangerous occupation and his lack of common sense. But all he said was, "So what did you bring me today, Davy?"

"An entire Graphorn," Davy said proudly.

"That's a big box," Jigger said, eyeing the crate dubiously, "but it doesn't look big enough to hold a Graphorn."

"It's a half-grown one," Davy explained. "That's how I was able to kill it so easily--well, relatively easily."

"Well, that explains why you're still alive," Jigger said wryly. "Hmm, I don't think that crate is going to fit through the door." Although it was just a few inches wider than the doorway, no matter how Davy tried to tilt it or maneuver it, the crate would not quite fit.

"I'll take it out of the crate," Davy finally said. "I should be able to fit the body through the door since it's smaller than the crate. I considered just taking the horns, but it seemed like a waste. I know the hide is valuable, but I didn't have anything sharp enough to skin it--I broke three knives on it. And I thought the blood and organs might be worth something."

"I'm sure I can find a buyer for them," Jigger said. "Professor Snape will be delighted to hear that I was able to obtain not just powdered horn, but an entire Graphorn. He enjoys experimenting with new ingredients."

Davy removed the lid from the crate, and Jigger examined the animal inside curiously, running his hand along its side. "Why, it seems freshly-killed!" he exclaimed in surprise. "The body is still warm!"

Davy smiled smugly. "I put a stasis spell on it to keep it from spoiling."

"Good," Jigger said approvingly. "We can get maximum use out of all the parts. Well, take it out of there and bring it inside."

Davy took out his wand and levitated the creature out of the crate. It was a grayish-purple beast the size of a large pony, with a humped back, a pair of very long and sharp horns, and large, four-thumbed feet. As he steered it towards the doorway, the body began to twitch. "What the--!" Davy exclaimed, so startled that he cut off the spell and let the Graphorn drop to the ground. 

"You fool!" screamed Jigger. "It wasn't dead--it was just stunned, and now your stasis spell is wearing off!"

"B-b-but it wasn't breathing!" Davy stammered. "I thought it was dead! It has to be dead!"

"Does it look dead, you idiot?!" Jigger shouted as the Graphorn slowly lurched to its feet, looking dazed. The Apothecary reached for his wand, but it was too late. The Graphorn took off running down the street.

*** 

Rita Skeeter and her photographer, Bozo, had been covering Lukas's trial for the Daily Prophet. They were enjoying a little refreshment at Fortescue's afterwards, when they heard a commotion coming from outside the store. Rita's eyes gleamed eagerly, and she said, "Grab your camera, Bozo, and let's see what's going on out there."

*** 

A mother and daughter were walking down the street in Diagon Alley. The daughter was about seven years old, with curly golden hair, and was playing with a glowing red marble.

"Put that away before you lose it, Sally," the mother scolded. "I don't know what your father was thinking, buying you such an expensive toy."

"But Mummy," Sally said, "it's not a toy; it's a Remembrall. It's turned red; I wonder what I've forgotten."

"Probably that you were supposed to clean your room this morning," her mother said dryly.

"Oops," Sally giggled. "I'll do it when we get home, promise."

"See that you do, young lady," the mother said in a stern tone of voice, but she smiled at her daughter fondly. "Or there will be no more trips to Fortescue's for you."

"Yes, Mummy," Sally said meekly.

"Mrs. Peasegood!" a woman called as they passed by Flourish and Blott's.

"Why, hello, Mrs. Quirke!" Mrs. Peasegood said. "How is your family?"

"Oh, very well, thank you. Orla is studying hard at Hogwarts. It won't be long before little Sally is there as well."

"A few more years yet," Mrs. Peasegood laughed. "I hear that your husband got a promotion recently..."

Sally grew bored while her mother chatted with Mrs. Quirke, and she played with the Remembrall, tossing it from one hand to the other. It slipped through her fingers and rolled out into the middle of the street, and Sally darted after it, unnoticed by her mother.

*** 

Lukas and Ash were heading to the cafe when they heard screams and loud growls coming from behind them. They turned to see a Graphorn barreling down the street as screaming wizards and witches fled out of its path. It was bearing down on a little girl crouched in the middle of the road picking up a red marble.

"SALLY!" a woman on the sidewalk screamed, but she seemed frozen with shock and fear. 

The two werewolves had only a few seconds to react before the Graphorn would trample the little girl; there was no time to cast a spell. "Grab the kid!" Lukas shouted, launching himself at the Graphorn. 

Ash dropped the bag of video games and ran into the street, sweeping the girl up into his arms without breaking his stride. Meanwhile, the Graphorn charged at Lukas, raking its horns across his chest, ripping through his robes and his flesh, tossing his body up in the air as blood sprayed from his wounds. The crowd of bystanders shrieked in horror.

But it was a wolf that hit the ground, not a man--a wolf with blond fur and two bloody gashes across its chest and belly. The wolf landed on its feet, running, and jumped up onto the Graphorn's back.

The wolf bit and clawed at the Graphorn frantically, but didn't seem to be harming the creature in the slightest. Ash vaguely recalled reading somewhere that Graphorns had a hide tougher than a dragon's. Lukas had tried to educate the young werewolves in his pack as best he could, since they were not allowed to attend school. He had even bought them tattered, secondhand books when he could manage to scrape together a little extra money. Ash had wanted to learn to cast spells, of course, but he hadn't seen any point in learning obscure bits of knowledge about exotic creatures in foreign lands that he would never see. But now he wished that he had read that book more carefully, or at least the chapter about Graphorns.

The girl, belatedly realizing her danger, was clinging to Ash and crying hysterically while her mother tried to pry her out of his arms, which was making it difficult for him to reach his wand. "Don't just stand there, you stupid gits!" he shouted at the crowd. "Stun it, Stupefy it, use an Unforgivable Curse for all I care, but do something!"

But the crowd was running around in a panic, most of them fleeing into the relative safety of the nearby shops. Others shouted, "Somebody call the Ministry! Call the Aurors!"

"No, that would be the Control of Magical Creatures department!" someone else shouted.

The Graphorn kicked and bucked, and managed to dislodge the wolf from its back. It charged at the wolf, who just barely managed to evade it. Ash swore and cursed the crowd of bystanders as a pack of useless cowards. Even if they could manage to agree on who to call for help, his pack leader would probably be dead by the time help got here. Werewolves healed wounds quickly, but if the Graphorn managed to spear a horn through Lukas's heart, his magical healing powers wouldn't help him.

Ash finally managed to disentangle himself from the girl, and shoved her into her mother's arms. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Stupefy!" but the spell bounced off the Graphorn without any visible effect. Damn it, the beast's hide must be spell-proof, too! What the hell was he going to do? 

The Graphorn tried to gore Lukas; it missed, but its horns still raked across the wolf's back, opening up another set of gashes.

Desperately, Ash kept hurling spells at the Graphorn, but they all bounced off the animal's thick skin harmlessly, as the first spell had done. Then the Apothecary came running down the street, red-faced and gasping for breath. The old wizard pointed his wand at the Graphorn, and black ropes burst out of the wand, wrapping themselves around the animal's legs.

The beast roared and stumbled, momentarily immobilized, but Ash didn't think that the spell was going to hold it for very long. Lukas leapt up and raked his claws across the Graphorn's face, and it bellowed in pain, shaking its head as droplets of blood flew from its injured eye.

Of course; the beast did have at least one vulnerability! Ash grabbed a knife from his pocket and threw it with deadly accuracy; it buried itself up to the hilt in the Graphorn's wounded eye. It must have gone through the eye and up into the brain, because the beast let out a loud groan, then suddenly keeled over, twitched a few times, and then lay still.

The wolf crawled away, whining, and transformed back into a man as Ash ran forward, throwing his arms around his pack leader. "Lukas!" he shouted. "Lukas, are you all right?!"

His pack leader smiled at him weakly. "I'll live. You did good, Ash."

"You idiot," Ash growled, tears stinging his eyes. "You could've been killed, and then what would we do without you?"

A flashbulb went off in their faces, and the two werewolves looked up to see Rita and Bozo standing over them. "You got pictures of everything, didn't you?" Rita demanded of the photographer.

"Yep," Bozo said with a satisfied smile, patting his camera gently. "I got the whole thing on film. The rampaging Graphorn, the little girl in danger, the dramatic rescue--everything."

*** 

"Ouch, that stings!" Lukas complained as Takeshi cleaned his wounds at the clinic.

"Hold still," Takeshi said crossly. "You know, a werewolf is not indestructible. Are you insane, taking on a Graphorn single-handedly?"

"It wasn't single-handedly; Ash was there," Lukas protested. "Besides, was I supposed to just let that kid get trampled?"

"You know," Takeshi said, "at first I thought you would have been a Slytherin if you'd gone to Hogwarts, but now I'm not so sure. You seem to have that Gryffindor noble hero only-I-can-save-the-world complex."

"Ouch! Is healing salve supposed to sting like that? Besides, you don't really need to do that. I'm a werewolf; I'll heal on my own eventually."

"I'm not using healing salve," the mediwizard replied. "I'm using a strong antiseptic to clean out the wounds first. Did you know that Graphorn horns contain a mild toxin? That's part of what makes them so valuable as a potion ingredient. Even a werewolf's wounds won't heal properly if they've been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Lukas asked in dismay.

"Fortunately, werewolves have a high tolerance for poison, and the toxin in the horns isn't really that strong. Most people don't die from it, but then again, most victims of a Graphorn attack usually bleed to death before the poison has a chance to work. So sit still and let me clean out your wounds."

Lukas smiled at hearing the normally gentle and good-natured mediwizard speaking in such a stern and no-nonsense tone of voice. He meekly sat still while Takeshi cleaned his wounds, then heard shouting and pounding from the front of the clinic. "What's going on out there?" he asked.

"I told Ash to lock the door and keep everyone out until I was done treating your wounds," Takeshi replied.

Ash strolled into the examining room, looking bemused. "That reporter wants an interview with us, there are several Ministry officials who want to question us about the incident, and the mother of the child wants to thank us."

"Don't talk to the Ministry without your lawyer present," Takeshi said grimly. "I'll call Ms. De Lacy and ask her to come here."

"We saved that kid!" Ash said indignantly. "You think they'll try to blame the attack on us somehow?"

"I'd rather be safe than sorry," Takeshi replied. "Don't forget who works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Dear old Uncle Amos," Lukas said bitterly.

"Well, your friends Tonks and Shacklebolt are two of the Ministry people out there," Ash said. "So hopefully they'll stand up for us. And I'm not sure--it was kind of confusing with everyone shouting at once--but another Ministry official seemed to be the kid's father."

"You saved the life of a Ministry official's daughter?!" Takeshi exclaimed. 

"I'm not sure," Ash confessed. "Like I said, it was kind of confusing."

"Did you happen to get her name afterwards?"

"I think the mother introduced herself as Mrs. Peasegood, but I was concentrating more on getting Lukas to the clinic."

"Arnold Peasegood is an Obliviator for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad!" Takeshi said excitedly. "If you've really saved his daughter, this could be great publicity for you if we put the right spin on it! Your wounds are clean now, Lukas. Ash, could you put some healing salve on them? I've got to go contact Ms. De Lacy!"

The mediwizard ran out of the room, and Lukas raised his eyebrows and asked, "'Put the right spin on it'? Does that sound like the Takeshi we know?"

Ash grinned. "Well, he's been involved with the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program since it started. I'm sure he's aware of the politics behind getting it started and keeping it going."

Takeshi returned with Morrigan a few minutes later. "You can let them in now," she told the mediwizard. 

Lukas's shirt and robes, which he had taken off so that Takeshi could treat his wounds, were torn and bloodstained, so Ash started to shrug off his own robe to lend to his pack leader. But Morrigan said, "No, let them see that he was wounded in defense of the child." She carefully draped the torn, bloodstained robes across his shoulders, making sure to leave his chest exposed. The gashes had closed and were beginning to scab over, but they still looked raw and red and quite horrific. Morrigan smiled in satisfaction.

"I've never had a woman ogle me in quite that way before," Lukas said sardonically.

"Those wounds could very well win the trial for you," Morrigan told him smugly. "It couldn't have worked out better if I had planned it."

Lukas was about to tell her that he wouldn't have deliberately taken on a Graphorn even to win the trial, but suddenly the room was full of witches and wizards who were all shouting at once. Flashes of light filled the room as Bozo started taking pictures. "Get those reporters out of here!" one of the Ministry officials shouted.

"Do you have something to hide?" Rita demanded.

"Ladies! Gentlemen!" Morrigan shouted, clapping her hands together to get their attention. "If you would all please calm down, I'm sure we can get everything settled. Master Diggory and Mister...er..." She hesitated, glancing at Ash.

"Randolf," Ash said reluctantly. He didn't care to give out his full name to people he didn't know, especially when they were associated with the Ministry, even though it wasn't actually his real name. Or at least, it wasn't the name he had been born with, but it was the name he had been using since becoming part of the pack. He would hate to have to come up with a new alias if his current persona ran afoul of the law. 

And then he suddenly remembered that he had left the bag of video games out in the street where he had dropped it. He had been too worried about Lukas to think about retrieving it at the time. Video games weren't actually illegal in the wizarding world, but they were frowned upon as being a bad influence on young witches and wizards, and he didn't have a license to sell them--or any of the other Muggle items he dealt in, for that matter.

Morrigan didn't seem notice his uneasiness, and continued smoothly, "...Randolf will give their statements to the Ministry representatives, after which they will be happy to give you an exclusive interview, Ms. Skeeter. Will that be satisfactory?"

Rita nodded, looking mollified, and took a seat in the corner of the room, scribbling in her notebook with an acid-green quill. Lukas and Ash explained their version of events to the Ministry officials; Amos wasn't among them, much to Lukas's relief. There was, however, a representative from the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department, and he had obviously been influenced by Amos, because he regarded the two werewolves with an air of suspicion and hostility.

"Transforming when it is not the full moon, when you are presumably not taking the Wolfsbane Potion, is rather dangerous, isn't it?" he asked pointedly.

"It wasn't like I did it on purpose!" Lukas snapped. "It's an involuntary defensive reaction when the wolf feels its life is threatened."

"Honestly, Bob!" Tonks said, glaring at her fellow Ministry worker. "He saved Sally's life!"

"That's right!" said another Ministry official vehemently. "Those men are heroes; they saved my daughter! They should be getting a medal, not being treated like criminals!"

Takeshi's guess had been correct; Arnold Peasegood introduced himself and shook the werewolves' hands, thanking them profusely. Both Ash and Lukas found it an almost surreal experience to be thanked by a Ministry official. Even after the werewolves had taken part in the battle against the Death Easters, the Ministry's gratitude had been rather grudging for the most part, except for Tonks, Kingsley, and Arthur. But then Peasegood surprised them even further.

"I supported Dolores Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation," he said, looking shamefaced. "And I argued against the equal rights bill when Arthur proposed it. And yet you risked your lives to save my little girl."

"I didn't know she was your daughter," Lukas said. "But even if I had, I wouldn't have let a child die just because I didn't like her father."

"I swear to you," Peasegood said fervently, his voice trembling a little, "that from now on, I will support Arthur Weasley's reforms. And I will never again judge someone solely by their blood or their race, without knowing them as individuals. I am in your debt, and if there is ever anything I can do to help you, then you need only ask."

Lukas nodded gravely, mentally filing away that promise for future use. Perhaps Peasegood would actually stand by it, even after the emotional impact of his daughter's rescue wore off. Remus would be delighted when he heard of this; it would confirm his Gryffindor idealism and his belief that the bigoted purebloods could change their ways.

Mrs. Peasegood also tearfully thanked Lukas and Ash, then prompted her daughter to thank them as well. "Thank you for saving me, Mr. Werewolf," she obediently said to Lukas.

"Sally!" Mrs. Peasegood exclaimed, looking mortified, but the two werewolves burst into laughter.

"Never mind," Lukas chuckled. "No offense was intended, and none was taken."

"And we are werewolves, after all," Ash pointed out. "No sense in trying to pretend that we aren't."

Sally seemed a little puzzled as to why her comment should have caused such an uproar, but she smiled at Ash. "And thank you, too, Mr. Werewolf. I ran out into the street after this." She held out her hand, showing him the Remembrall. "I managed to hang onto it, even after the monster came running down the street and you picked me up," she said proudly.

"That's nice," Ash said, ruffling her hair. "But don't run away from your mother like that again. You can always buy another Remembrall, but your mother and father can't buy another Sally from the store." Sally giggled and nodded.

"Well, I think that wraps everything up," Tonks said cheerfully, and the other Ministry officials nodded, although Bob looked a bit sullen.

"Where on earth did that Graphorn come from, anyway?" Lukas asked.

"Some fool of a wizard brought it to sell as potion ingredients to the Apothecary," Kingsley replied. "He thought it was dead, but it was only stunned, and when the stasis spell he cast on it wore off, it woke up and went charging down the street." Kingsley shook his head. "He's the same idiot who once tried to get past the Whomping Willow on a dare when he was at Hogwarts. Apparently, he hasn't gotten any smarter since then. If he's lucky, he'll get off with a hefty fine; if not, he may have some time to contemplate his mistakes in Azkaban."

Tonks and Kingsley lingered behind after the other Ministry officials left. She handed Ash the bag of video games with a wink, saying, "I believe you dropped this, Ash."

Ash grinned, bowed over her hand, and kissed it as Kingsley scowled at him. "Thank you, milady," he said.

Tonks laughed, "I'm no lady--at least, that's what my mother always used to say when she threw up her arms in frustration after I'd just ripped or dirtied a new dress playing outside. She used to call me a tomboy and a little hoyden. But you're welcome, Ash. It's the least I can do for the hero who saved little Sally's life." She winked at him again before she left with Kingsley.

"Too bad the good ones all seem to be taken," Ash whispered to Lukas with a mock-regretful sigh. The werewolf leader just smiled and shook his head, and then Rita was stepping forward, demanding her promised interview. Ash would have slipped off then, but the reporter was insistent on talking to "both heroes," and Bozo also took more pictures of them. As someone who operated on the shady side of the law, it made Ash a little nervous, even though Takeshi and Morrigan seemed to think that the publicity would be good for Lukas.

Rita and Bozo finally left, and to say that they looked pleased with themselves would be an understatement--they were practically salivating, like dogs who had found not just a bone, but a thick, juicy steak. "I just hope she doesn't write a story about a mad werewolf running loose on the streets," Ash said doubtfully.

"In this case, her interests happen to coincide with yours," Morrigan assured him. "She wants the most dramatic story possible, and nothing could be more dramatic than the truth--werewolves risking their lives to rescue a little girl from a rampaging Graphorn. It has everything: drama, danger, excitement, even a bit of sentiment to tug at the heartstrings of the readers. She would be a fool to change it."

"Don't worry, Ash," Lukas told his friend. "Miss Granger and Mr. Potter seem to have worked out some sort of agreement with our intrepid reporter, according to Lupin. Whatever it is, she's been holding up her end of the bargain; all her articles about werewolves since the war ended have been positive, including the coverage of my trial."

"Your students really like you," Ash observed, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Well, they didn't know me back then, when they first starting blackmailing or bribing or whatever it was they did to Skeeter," Lukas said with a smile. "I think they did it mainly for Lupin's sake. But yes, I think that most of them do like me now. And strangely enough, I find that I like them, too. Some of them are a bit spoiled, but for the most part, they're good kids."

"They've just led a very sheltered life," Morrigan said. "The purebloods, anyway. But they're still young enough to be more flexible than their parents, and you've expanded their view of the world a little."

Morrigan went back to her office, eager to prepare for the next phase of the trial, and Takeshi told Lukas to go home and get some rest. "Well, I guess I'll head back to Hogwarts," Lukas said to Ash. "I ought to tell Dumbledore what happened. Will you tell the pack that I'm all right?"

"Yes, although I'm not looking forward to explaining to a bunch of anxious werewolves that I let you wrestle with a Graphorn," Ash replied in a wry voice.

Lukas grinned, deliberately exposing his teeth in a feral manner. "I'm the pack leader; I do as I please. You didn't 'let' me do anything."

Ash laughed. "I'll be sure to tell them that." As the other werewolf turned to leave, he said, "Hey, Lukas?"

"Yes?"

"I was just thinking that you really are suited to being a teacher, after all."

"What do you mean?" Lukas asked.

"When you were fighting the Graphorn, I remembered reading something about it in one of the books you bought for us cubs," Ash replied with a nostalgic smile. "You taught us mostly practical things--spells, and how to fight, and how to pick pockets or pick a lock. But you also made us read books, and taught us a bit about the history and politics of the wizarding world. Hell, some of the younger ones could barely read or write before you took them in. At first I thought it was strange, you going to work at Hogwarts, but now I see that you were already a teacher long before then."

"I never thought of it that way," Lukas said, looking a little embarrassed. "It was nothing like the kind of education you would have received at Hogwarts. But my parents tutored me since I wasn't allowed to go to school, so I tried to do the same for the young wolves in the pack. Of course, my own education was cut short when my father died, but I was advanced for my age, I guess. There wasn't much to do at home but read. Although my father did teach me swordfighting when I wasn't feeling too ill."

"You were a good teacher," Ash said loyally. "And I always suspected you were highborn." Lukas looked startled, and Ash explained, "You were too well-educated to be a simple street rat like the rest of us. You knew a lot of stuff about history, and the Latin origin of spell incantations, and you knew a lot about the pureblood families. You'd tell us that so-and-so would be an easy mark, while someone from another family dabbled in Dark Magic and we shouldn't mess with them."

Lukas looked chagrined. "Snape saw through me right away, too. I should have been more careful."

Ash smiled. "It's okay. Back then, you told us that everyone had things in their past that they wanted to leave behind. You said that we were all starting over fresh, and all that mattered was that we were a pack now."

"But my past caught up with me," Lukas sighed.

"Never figured you for a high-and-mighty pureblood Lord, though," Ash said with a grin.

"Try not to hold it against me," Lukas laughed. Ash hugged his pack leader gingerly, being careful of his still-healing wounds, and the two werewolves departed to their respective homes.

*** 

That night at dinner, Lupin was showing off a special evening edition of the Daily Prophet, much to Lukas's embarrassment. "Cut that out, Lupin," he growled.

"But you're a hero, Lukas!" Lupin protested. "You should be proud of yourself!"

"It's not a big deal," Lukas said. "What else was I supposed to do, let the kid get trampled or skewered?"

"It doesn't appear that anyone else lifted a finger to help," Snape observed cynically. "You might as well enjoy your moment of heroism, Diggory. If nothing else, the publicity might sway the trial in your favor."

"Yes, Morrigan and Takeshi said that, too," Lukas admitted. "But I feel a little bad. Jigger helped by binding the Graphorn so Ash could kill it, but the article barely makes any mention of him."

"An elderly Apothecary does not make nearly so interesting a hero as two werewolves," Snape said. "Two very photogenic werewolves, judging by the female students' reactions."

Throughout the Great Hall, students were reading copies of the Daily Prophet; those who didn't have a copy read over the shoulders of those who did. The girls were squealing in both horror (at the pictures of Lukas's bloody robes and wounded chest) and admiration. Lukas's and Lupin's keen ears picked up the whispers of the girls from the nearest table.

"They're so brave!"

"And so handsome! I wish that other werewolf would come teach at Hogwarts, too!"

"His face is scarred."

"I don't mind. In fact, I think it makes him look very bold!"

"Do you think he got it fighting the Graphorn?"

"It looks like an old scar, silly. It couldn't have healed that fast, even if he is a werewolf. Look, Master Diggory's wounds still look bloody."

"Well, I'm sure he got the scar doing something heroic..."

Lupin laughed and Snape smirked in amusement as Lukas groaned, "Idiotic girls!"

"Don't worry about Mr. Jigger," Dumbledore said. "The Ministry gave him the Graphorn corpse as a reward for his services. I assure you, he'd much rather have that than a picture in the Daily Prophet."

"Hmm," Snape said, an acquisitive gleam in his black eyes. "I'll have to put in an order for some Graphorn blood and powdered horn." 

"What will happen to the person who let the Graphorn escape?" Lukas demanded.

"He has not been sentenced yet, but my sources tell me that he will likely have to pay a very large fine and serve a few weeks in prison," Dumbledore replied.

"Is that all?" Lukas asked, sounding disgusted. "He endangered the lives of everyone in Diagon Alley; it was sheer good luck that no one was killed!"

"Ah, but you see, Davy Gudgeon cannot pay his fine if he cannot go back to work," Dumbledore explained. "He's currently broke, it seems, and since the Ministry confiscated his Graphorn, he has no current source of income."

"Expediency triumphs over justice at the Ministry once again," Snape said sourly. 

"It's not so bad," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "As well as working to pay his fine, he will also be gathering potion ingredients on the Ministry's behalf, for poison antidotes and other beneficial potions."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," Lukas muttered.

"Cheer up, lad," Hagrid told him in a hearty voice. "No one got hurt, thanks ter yeh--"

"Except for Diggory himself," Snape interjected sarcastically.

"--and yeh saved that little girl's life!" Hagrid continued, ignoring him. "Yeh're a hero, Lukas!"

"There's no help for it, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling mischievously behind his half-moon glasses. He patted Lukas on the shoulder in a comforting manner. "You're a bona fide hero; you'll just have to get used to it."

"How long do you think it will take for all this to wear off?" Lukas asked gloomily.

"People still call Harry 'The Boy Who Lived,'" Lupin pointed out, not very helpfully.

"Yes, but I hardly think that killing a Graphorn is the equivalent of vanquishing the Dark Lord," Snape retorted acerbically.

"I'm sure things will die down after a few weeks, Lukas," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Or possibly a few months."

"Oh, look!" Lupin said. "This article says that you're being nominated for the Order of Merlin!"

Lukas groaned again.

*** 

Lamont Whitby met with Amos Diggory that night for a private conference. "I'm going to tell you something that you're not going to want to hear, Amos," the lawyer said. "I think you should try to reach an out-of-court settlement with your nephew."

"I will not let that werewolf take over the estate!" Amos shouted.

They were meeting in Amos's study, and Whitby cautioned him, "Lower your voice, Amos; you'll upset your wife." The other wizard subsided, still fuming. "I told you that you weren't going to like it. But it is my duty as your lawyer to advise you that there is a good chance that you will lose this lawsuit, Amos. The odds were in our favor before, but with this..." He threw down a copy of the Daily Prophet on Amos's desk. "The werewolf is now a hero twice over. And worse, he saved the daughter of a high-ranking Ministry official. Peasegood was a staunch opponent of werewolves, but now he's changed his tune. He might persuade others to change theirs, too. After all, how can you call someone a monster when they've just saved a little girl? Even if they had to transform into a beast to do it."

"I promised my parents that I would never let Cynric's brat inherit the title," Amos said adamantly.

"You could lose everything!" Whitby said urgently. "Not just the family estate and fortune, but your own house and savings! The money you earn from your Ministry job has gone into the Diggory family account at Gringotts, not a personal account. If the werewolf wins the trial, he could take it all! I strongly advise you to settle with him, Amos. Grant him the mansion, and offer to divide the money and other properties with him. I think he will agree to it for Gwendolyn's sake, if not for yours."

"No," Amos said stubbornly.

"Damn it, Amos!" Whitby exclaimed in frustration. "You and Helen could wind up on the street with nothing but the clothes on your backs! I know it's galling, but split the estate with the werewolf. What difference does it really make, anyway? It will all come back to Tristan in the end."

"I will not break my vow to my parents!" Amos insisted. "I will never let that beast call himself 'Lord Diggory'! The old Lord Gravenor was right about one thing--we should have drowned that brat when he was still a puppy, before he became a threat to our families!"

Whitby frowned. "Well, that's a bit extreme, but if he had been legally registered as a werewolf when he was a child, that would have given your father grounds to appoint you as heir over Cynric--"

"It doesn't matter what we did or didn't do in the past!" Amos snapped. "What matters now is that I cannot let that werewolf inherit the title! We have to win this lawsuit; there is no other choice!"

"I can't promise you a win, Amos," Whitby said reluctantly. "De Lacy and your nephew have already shot down my strongest argument--that the werewolf was involved in illegal activities when he was still Lukas Bleddri. I can't prove it without witnesses, and now none of the witnesses will testify for fear of incriminating themselves as well. Besides, I doubt that the public really cares now whether he was a thief or a smuggler in the past. Those are minor sins in comparison to someone like, say, Snape, who used to be a Death Eater. His shady past and the fact that he's turned over a new leaf probably make him an even more romantic figure in their eyes." 

He stared at the newspaper article, grimacing. "At least, that's the picture that Rita Skeeter has painted of him. I was counting on the Wizengamot's prejudice to win the case for you, but if we lose that, we have nothing. I'm not sure how much longer I can string out this trial. If I can't produce new evidence soon, Madam Bones will call for a vote, and at this point, I fear that the vote will go in the werewolf's favor."

"Stall them just a little longer," Amos begged. "Just buy me some time; I'll think of something, try to find some connection between Cyril and something unsavory. He's a Dark Creature and friends with a former Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! There's got to be something!"

"I'll do my best," Whitby sighed. "But think over what I've said, Amos. I know you don't want to break your promise to your parents, but would they really want you thrown out on the street while your nephew becomes Lord of the Manor? At least with a settlement, you'd retain some control over the estate." The lawyer left, and Amos remained alone in the study, brooding, until his worried wife finally called him to bed late in the evening.

*** 

When Amos reported to work the next morning, he found everyone gossiping about his werewolf nephew, mostly in admiring tones, although they would quickly lower their voices when they noticed him watching them. The newly-converted Peasegood was going around telling everyone that the werewolves were heroes, and he even had the nerve to tell Amos that he should reconsider his position and not let his prejudices blind him. Nymphadora Tonks said nothing to Amos, but she looked quite smug; in fact, she was practically gloating.

By lunchtime, Amos had not only lost his appetite, but was afraid he was beginning to develop an ulcer. He sat alone at a table in the corner of the Ministry cafeteria, far away from everyone else, picking halfheartedly at his food. After a few minutes, Dawlish and Williamson joined him.

"Not feeling peckish, eh, Amos?" Williamson asked sympathetically. "Can't say that I blame you."

"It will blow over soon enough," Dawlish said, trying to sound comforting. "Some new scandal or bit of gossip about some Quidditch player or the Weird Sisters will come along, and everyone will forget about this nonsense. The public is fickle."

"It might not come along in time," Amos said grimly. "My lawyer thinks that we're in danger of losing the trial."

"If there's anything we can do, just let us know," Dawlish said. "Testify as character witnesses, perhaps..."

"Thank you," Amos said, with sincere gratitude, but his smile was a bit strained.

After lunch, Williamson suggested casually, "Why don't we go for a walk, Amos? Some fresh air will do you good. And I could use a smoke."

"That's bad for your health, Ian," Dawlish scolded.

"And who're you, my father?" Williamson retorted, but with a good-natured laugh.

"I just hate to see young people picking up bad habits," Dawlish said, patting him on the shoulder in what did indeed seem like a fatherly manner. He rose from his seat and said, "Go on, Amos, a walk will do you good, and you can keep our young friend out of mischief. I've got to get back to the office and look over some complaints we've received about contraband items being sold at Borgin and Burkes."

Amos and Williamson walked down the street together, and the young Auror led Amos down a deserted alley. He looked around to make sure no one was within earshot, then said in a hushed voice, "You hate the werewolf, and I want to bring down his friend the Death Eater. Maybe we can help each other out."

"What do you mean?" Amos asked, and the Auror explained his plan. Amos felt shocked, frightened, and excited all at once. "You know that we would be in serious trouble if we ever got caught."

"So we won't get caught," Williamson said with a confident grin. "Besides, who will take the word of a werewolf over two respected Ministry officials?"

"Does Richard know about this?" Amos asked.

"Nah, Dawlish is a strictly by-the-book guy," Williamson said. "He wouldn't condone our plan, even if he would like the end results."

"'Our' plan?" Amos asked pointedly.

"Are you in or out?" Williamson retorted impatiently. "If you don't want to go through with it, fine, but do you really want to see that werewolf become Lord of the Manor in your place? Do you really want a pack of wolves having free run of your ancestral home?"

That mental image decided Amos. He had told Whitby that he would find some way to win the trial, and this opportunity had just been dropped in his lap. It wasn't quite what he'd had in mind, and there was a certain amount of risk inherent in it, but he would be a fool to pass it up.

"I'm in," he said.

*** 

A few days later, dressed in Muggle clothes, Amos and Williamson ventured into the Muggle world and picked up two large dogs from a pound in London. Williamson filled out the paperwork and paid the adoption fees in Muggle cash. He was prepared to cast a Memory Charm if necessary, but the harried clerk gave the paperwork and Williamson's fake ID card only a cursory glance, and just seemed relieved that someone wanted the dogs. "It's hard to find homes for adult dogs, especially ones this large," she said with a smile. "I was afraid that we were going to have to put them down. Most people want cute little puppies."

"We'll take good care of these fellows, never fear," Williamson said with a charming smile, patting the dogs on the head.

He and Amos left the pound, each walking a dog on a leash. Williamson's dog walked obediently by his side, but Amos had trouble controlling his dog as it strained against the leash, obviously wanting to run. "Heel, you stupid mutt!"

Williamson just chuckled. "Just hang onto him until we get them out of sight, then we can use a spell to make him more docile."

"It makes me nervous," Amos grumbled, "walking among Muggles."

"I told you before, it's safer this way," Williamson said impatiently. "It's much less likely that anyone will be able to trace the dogs back to us if anything goes wrong. It's not like we can just stroll into the Magical Menagerie and ask to buy a couple of wolves!"

"They don't even look like wolves," Amos said. "Maybe yours, a little, but mine will never pass, not even in the dark." The dog Williamson was walking was a German Shepherd mix, while the other had wiry fur and floppy ears.

Williamson patted the floppy-eared dog, and it wagged its tail happily. "He looks to be part wolfhound, which is appropriate, as they were bred to hunt wolves, and he will be helping us to snare a werewolf, in a roundabout way. A little magic will take care of any cosmetic differences."

"And where do you plan to hide these beasts when we're not using them?"

"I've rented a place not far from here, under a false name, of course. We'll leave the dogs there with plenty of food and water, and I'll check in on them from time to time. A silence spell will keep the neighbors from hearing any barking, and we'll Apparate in and out to lessen the chances of being seen. You're not getting cold feet, are you, Amos?"

"I don't like it, but I'll do whatever I have to, in order to keep Cyril from taking the estate."

"That's the spirit, Amos! Trust me, we'll have that mangy werewolf sent to Azkaban in no time, and maybe the rest of his pack, too, if we're lucky."

*** 

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, things were going smoothly. The students were thrilled to have a hero in their midst, although Lukas was still rather embarrassed about the whole thing. He thought it was ironic that he was getting more acclaim for saving one girl than he and his werewolves had for their part in defeating the Death Eaters.

There were no more pranks and threats, and the older students were busy studying for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, which were fast approaching. And all the students were caught up in the excitement of the resumed Quidditch season. Gryffindor handily beat Ravenclaw that weekend, and most people were convinced that it would be Gryffindor versus Slytherin in the Quidditch Cup finals once again, although Slytherin needed to win their matches against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw to make the finals. (Their match against Ravenclaw was being rescheduled, as the game had been cut short due to the appearance of the false Dark Mark.) Still, the experienced Slytherin team was favored to win over Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, whose teams had several new and inexperienced members.

The Slytherin team was excited about the prospect of finally winning the Cup, and had forgotten their fears, assuming that the increased security and the presence of the Aurors had scared off the prankster. "We won't be scared off by some coward who isn't even man enough to show his face!" Draco declared, and the team cheered. Only later did it occur to him that the Death Eaters had hidden behind masks, and ruled through fear and intimidation. They had operated on a much larger scale, but in essence, had been no better than the mysterious prankster. It was a sobering thought.

Theodore, however, was very happy. Not only were Lupin and Snape getting along, but Snape was getting along with his mother--at least as well as could be expected, given their history. And Lady Selima had accepted his relationship with Blaise. All was well with Theodore's family, and the only slight damper on his happiness was the fact that he couldn't spend much time alone with Blaise. It was a bit frustrating, but they would graduate in a couple of months, and then they would be able to be together. He had spent most of his fifth year and the beginning of his sixth quietly, secretly, and hopelessly loving Blaise without saying anything because he had believed that his love was unrequited. So he could be patient now, content in the knowledge that Blaise loved him.

Blaise, however, had other ideas. One day after practice, as the Slytherin team was leaving the Pitch, he pulled Theodore aside, leading him beneath the stands.

"What are you doing?" Theodore laughed. "Do you know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught?"

"I don't care," Blaise said, kissing him. "I've been going crazy from wanting you; I can't take it anymore!"

"But Blaise," Theodore protested--not very forcefully, he had to admit, "Grandmother told us to be discreet. She'll be upset if we cause another scandal."

"We won't get caught," Blaise said in a coaxing tone. "Besides, how much of a scandal could it really cause? Everyone knows we're a couple." 

Theodore felt his resolve waver as Blaise kissed him again--a longer, more demanding kiss this time. "Well..."

"Besides," Blaise whispered in his ear, "I let you talk me into making love in the woods near Lupin's cottage. So you owe me one."

"So it's my fault that you've suddenly turned into an exhibitionist?" Theodore asked with a grin.

"Entirely your fault," Blaise agreed. "Not to mention the fact that you look incredibly sexy in those green robes."

Blaise began undoing the fastenings of the Slytherin team uniform, and Theodore laughed, "Then why are you so eager to get them off?" In response, Blaise pushed him up against a nearby support beam and kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue into Theodore's mouth. Firmly pinned between Blaise's body and the beam, Theodore was unable to squirm away--not that he was trying very hard, mind you. Blaise was rarely this aggressive, and he found that it was an incredible turn-on. 

"Wow," he gasped breathlessly when Blaise finally broke off the kiss. Blaise just smiled, and feeling slightly dazed, Theodore leaned back against the support beam and allowed Blaise to continue unfastening his robes without further protest. When he was done, Blaise pushed the robes aside and slowly kissed his way down Theodore's exposed neck and chest, teasingly running his tongue across each nipple as Theodore gasped. Then he moaned softly as he felt Blaise's mouth moving across his belly as Blaise sank to his knees and his hands reached up to unfasten the button on Theodore's trousers...

*** 

Aric's favorite spot to be alone, the Astronomy Tower, had lost some of its appeal after he had been caught drinking there with Draco by Professors Snape, Lupin, and Sinistra. So he decided to go out to the Quidditch Pitch; the Slytherin team should just be finishing up their practice. His timing was perfect; he saw the team and their spectators heading back to the castle as he approached and slipped into the stands unnoticed. He took a seat and stared up at the sky wistfully, remembering how he had played on the Durmstrang team.

He wished that he'd held off on antagonizing Theo and Draco long enough to make the team; Quidditch would have proved a welcome distraction and a way to work off some of his frustrations. Now all he could do was sit here and brood about his upcoming marriage. Maybe he should have brought his broomstick; he could at least enjoy the sensation of flying even if he wasn't playing Quidditch...

And then the sound of quiet laughter below him interrupted his thoughts. "Do you know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught?" he heard his cousin say.

"I don't care," Blaise said. "I've been going crazy from wanting you; I can't take it anymore!"

"But Blaise," Theo protested weakly. "Grandmother told us to be discreet. She'll be upset if we cause another scandal."

"We won't get caught," Blaise said in a coaxing tone. "Besides, how much of a scandal could it really cause? Everyone knows we're a couple." 

There was the sound of a kiss, and then Theo said hesitantly, "Well..."

"Besides," Blaise whispered, "I let you talk me into making love in the woods near Lupin's cottage. So you owe me one."

Good Lord, thought Aric with a kind of horrified fascination. Did Snape and Lupin know that Theo and Blaise had been running around having sex in the woods? If they knew, did they care? Did they maybe even encourage it? Like father, like son, after all...and that conjured up an image in his head of Lupin and Snape having sex in the woods. Aric shuddered, vigorously shaking his head in an attempt to wipe that picture out of his mind.

"So it's my fault that you've suddenly turned into an exhibitionist?" Theo asked with laughter in his voice.

"Entirely your fault," Blaise replied. "Not to mention the fact that you look incredibly sexy in those green robes."

There was the sound of rustling cloth, and Theo laughed, "Then why are you so eager to get them off?" There was no verbal reply, but a thump and more kissing noises, then a soft, "Wow," from Theo. More rustling and kissing, then a gasp and a quiet moan. The sound of metal dragging against metal--a fly being unzipped. A slighter louder moan from Theo, and a muffled one from Blaise. The sound of a mouth sliding moistly across flesh...and then Aric realized exactly what they were doing, and to his horror, he felt himself growing hard beneath his robes.

_Damn it!_ he told himself fiercely. _I am NOT getting turned on by the thought of my cousin getting a blow job from his boyfriend!_

But in his mind, it wasn't Theo or Blaise that he pictured. Aric found himself wondering what Takeshi would look like without his glasses, with his hair unbound. He imagined himself loosening that braid and running his hands through Takeshi's long, coal-black hair. He imagined himself lifting those gold wire-rimmed glasses from the mediwizard's face; they were always sliding down his nose and practically begging to be removed. And then he would plant kisses all over Takeshi's face--forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and finally, his mouth. He imagined his tongue entwining with Takeshi's, his hands exploring beneath those lime-green hospital robes...

Theodore cried out softly, and that sound abruptly snapped Aric back to reality. He found that his hand was creeping towards his crotch as if it had a mind of its own, and he quickly jerked it away and clenched it into a fist. It was bad enough that he was fantasizing about Takeshi; he certainly wasn't going to masturbate in the bloody Quidditch stands with Theo and Blaise right below him! This whole mess was their fault, anyway, he thought disgruntledly, and not quite rationally. He decided to quietly sneak out of the stands and back to the castle, but his distraction made him clumsy, and he tripped and stumbled, falling to his hands and knees with a loud thump.

"Shit!" Theo cursed. "Who's there?!" Before Aric could get back to his feet, his cousin looked up and clearly recognized him through the gaps in the floorboards. "You!" he said furiously, hastily zipping up his trousers as Blaise scrambled to his feet, running the back of his hand across his mouth. 

"Were you spying on us?" Blaise demanded, sounding both angry and embarrassed. It was dark beneath the stands, so it was difficult to tell, but Aric was pretty sure that both boys were blushing.

Aric's face was just as red. "I don't get my jollies from watching you two go at it, believe it or not!" he snapped, trying to regain his composure. "I came out to the stands to be alone--the two of you were the ones disturbing _my_ piece of mind, not the other way around. I was just leaving so that I wouldn't have to listen to you!"

"Right," Theo said skeptically.

"Look, I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not," Aric said. "I'm leaving!"

"Wait!" Theodore cried. "Are...are you going to tell anyone that you saw us here?"

Aric looked down at his cousin's anxious face and realized that he could make Theo squirm if he wanted. Even if Lady Selima was turning a blind eye to Theo's relationship with Blaise, she would be angry if another public incident occurred; Theo had just said so himself. And Snape might be angry with him, too. Or at least a little annoyed.

But then he thought of Takeshi, and his petty spite turned into a wistful longing. And somehow he felt too tired to carry on his vendetta with Theo right now. "Oh, what's the point, Theo?" he asked gruffly. "Our Head of House is your father; at best he'll ignore it, and at worst, he'll punish me instead of you. Besides, everyone already knows you're shagging Zabini. It's not exactly a state secret." 

Theo stared at him, looking puzzled and suspicious, but Aric didn't bother to try and convince him that he was telling the truth. He left without a backwards glance, heading back to the dorm to take a cold shower.

*** 

"Do you think he's up to something?" Theodore asked in confusion.

"I don't know," Blaise replied, silently cursing Aric. "But we'd better get out of here in case he does decide to report us to a teacher. If no one finds us here, it's our word against his, and Aric's not exactly Mr. Popularity."

"But you didn't...well...I mean, I didn't get a chance to, uh, return the favor," Theodore said apologetically.

Blaise groaned in frustration, "I know, but I don't fancy being interrupted by McGonagall or Filch or--"

"Okay, okay!" Theodore quickly interrupted, shuddering at the thought; he wasn't sure which prospect he found more daunting. "Let's go. Maybe we can ask Damien and Dylan to make themselves scarce for a little while."

They made their way back to the dorm, Blaise being very grateful that Hogwarts was big on tradition, and required the students to wear the traditional, voluminous wizard's robes as part of their uniform; it would have been impossible to hide his arousal in the Muggle clothing that some of the students favored for casual wear on weekends and holidays.

No teachers confronted them along the way, and Aric was not in sight when they reached the Slytherin common room. The students were gathered in little clusters, gossiping or doing homework or playing games, the same as always; none of the gossip seemed to be about Theodore or Blaise. Serafina and Draco were apparently on speaking terms again, or had at least called a truce, because they were sitting in front of the fireplace together watching Serafina's kitten, Bast, play with a ball of yarn.

"Have you seen Dietrich?" Theodore asked cautiously.

"Yeah, he came stomping in here a few minutes ago, looking mad as hell about something," Draco said with a shrug. "I think he's sulking in his room."

Blaise and Theodore exchanged a puzzled look. If Aric was already here, he must have gone straight back to the dorm without stopping to report them to a teacher first.

Blaise looked around the room, not seeing either of their roommates. "Where are Damien and Dylan?" he asked.

"Pierce went chasing after that Patil girl, where else?" Draco said, sounding bored as he dangled a bit of yarn for Bast to pounce at. "She was watching in the stands today; didn't you notice him trying to impress her with his Quidditch skills? She actually did seem impressed; she was giggling and hanging all over his arm afterwards. And I think Dylan said something about meeting Granger at the library." Draco sighed in annoyance. "I don't understand why they're so obsessed with Gryffindor girls." Theodore and Blaise exchanged another glance, which did not pass unnoticed by Draco. The blond Slytherin boy smirked and added, "But I guess that means you've got your rooms to yourselves today."

They both blushed, but Blaise was too impatient to feel embarrassed for long; he had barely been able to restrain himself from jumping Theo in the halls on the walk back to the dorm. They hurried to Theo's room, and Blaise cast a silence spell on the room, then locked the door and cast a warding spell on it for good measure. The warding spell probably wouldn't hold for long if someone was determined to break it, but it would serve as an obvious "do not disturb" sign if Dylan or Damien should return early and come looking for them.

Once the door was locked and warded, Blaise promptly pushed Theo down on the bed, tugging impatiently at his robes, all but tearing them off.

Theodore laughed, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it!" It occurred to him that Blaise was acting an awful lot like Lupin near the full moon, but he tried not to dwell on that thought too closely. As much as he loved his parents, he didn't really want to picture them being intimate with each other.

"Months of frustration!" Blaise exclaimed. "The last time we made love was Christmas night!" He jokingly added, "You know, I'm a little insulted that you don't seem to share my frustration."

"Ah, but you have only yourself to blame," Theodore pointed out with a grin. "You did just...ah...relieve my frustration under the Quidditch stands, after all."

"What did I tell you about Slytherin boys and the Quidditch stands?" Blaise purred into his ear, referring to the time on Valentine's Day when he had been determined to ward off any hypothetical suitors from romancing his little sister beneath the stands.

"You're wicked, love," Theodore said in a husky voice.

"I am a Slytherin, after all," Blaise retorted. He quickly got both of them undressed, then hesitated, panting heavily, filled with an unfamiliar and almost uncontrollable urge to possess and claim his lover completely. He had missed Theo much more than he realized; maybe he just wanted to reassure himself that Theo was still his. "Can I...take you?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice, not sure how Theo would react. He was usually content to let Theo be the dominant partner; that Christmas night was the only time their roles had been reversed.

But Theo just smiled at him sweetly and whispered, "Yes," looking completely relaxed, even eager. There was no anxiety, no fear in his eyes, and none of the distant aloofness that had so often come between them before. For once, his gray-green eyes did not look murky or troubled, but were filled only with love and desire--and most importantly, trust.

Blaise quickly reached into the nightstand drawer for the half-filled vial of lavender oil, which had been lying there gathering dust since Christmas. Theodore moaned as Blaise prepared him with his fingers, feeling passion beginning to stir within him again despite his recent orgasm. The truth was that Blaise's aggressiveness excited him, and it delighted him to know how much Blaise wanted him. With another Slytherin, Theo might have feared that sex was merely another type of power play, but he knew that Blaise only wanted to love him. Along with Snape and Lupin, Blaise was the person that Theodore trusted most in all the world.

"Enough," gasped Theo, and Blaise took him at his word; he had nearly bitten through his lower lip in an attempt to keep himself from simply pouncing on Theo, the way Bast had been pouncing on the ball of yarn. But he pounced now, and thrust hard and fast into Theo, too far gone to be slow or gentle. Theo didn't seem to mind--quite the opposite, in fact; Blaise could feel something hard pressing into his belly as Theo groaned urgently, raising his body to meet Blaise's thrusts. Blaise continued thrusting into Theo at an even more frantic pace as he wrapped his hand around Theo's erection, relishing his lover's loud cries of pleasure. Overwhelmed by pent-up lust and frustration, it wasn't long before he came inside Theo, and kept stroking until Theo came as well.

Afterwards, he snuggled up against Theo, sighing contentedly as he rested his head on his lover's chest. "Happy now?" Theo chuckled, stroking Blaise's hair affectionately. "You're practically purring; you remind me of Bast."

Blaise laughed wickedly. "You have no idea how apt an analogy that is. I was just thinking a little while ago how much I wanted to pounce on you!"

"Purr for me, kitten," Theodore teased.

"Mrrow!" Blaise said, playfully nipping at Theodore's earlobe. They indulged in a bit of leisurely kissing and caressing before Theodore reluctantly pulled away and sat up in bed.

"We'd better get cleaned up and dressed before Dylan walks in on us," he said regretfully. 

"The warding spell would warn him off, but I suppose you're right," Blaise sighed. 

Theodore kissed him, grinning mischievously. "Cheer up, school will be out in a couple of months. Besides, all those months of frustration were worth it, to see you so...ah..."

"Horny?" Blaise asked with a wry smile.

"I was going to say 'passionate,'" Theodore laughed, kissing him again. "Today was very...intense."

"We'll see how 'intense' things get in June, after we graduate," Blaise grumbled. "Although I'm hoping to steal a little time alone with you before then. Or I might explode."

"It won't kill you," Theodore said cheerfully, and Blaise glared at him. Theodore laughed, then kissed him on the forehead and said tenderly, "Love you, Blaise."

Blaise's frown melted into a smile as he marveled once again at how much Theo had come to love and trust him. It was a miracle, considering Theodore's background--all the abuse he had endured, and all the terrible secrets he had kept to himself for so long. And Blaise had helped bring this miracle about; the thought of it filled him with a sense of joy and awe.

"I love you, too, Theo," he whispered, and suddenly two months didn't seem like such a long time, after all.

*** 

Lupin had an appointment to help a student with an assignment after dinner, so Snape returned to his quarters alone and began grading papers, taking his usual vindictive pleasure whenever he was able to mark down a Gryffindor student, which was quite frequently. Their impulsiveness often led to impatience and carelessness, two very major flaws in a Potions student. Allegra Zabini was turning out to be a good student, though, despite her annoying chatter, and rather surprisingly, so was Portia Pettigrew. Or perhaps Snape was unfairly comparing her to her uncle, who had never been an exceptional student. Peter Pettigrew had never been exceptional at anything, which was probably why he had attached himself to Potter and Black, hoping that a little of their glory might rub off on him.

Snape's lip curled in an unconscious sneer. The only thing the little rat had been good at was being a bootlicking toady, first to Potter and Black, and then to Voldemort. Portia, however, was a careful and meticulous student beneath her timidity. She always did well on the written assignments and tests, although her squeamishness occasionally caused her to falter in the actual potion-making process when she had to handle ingredients that most of the students deemed "slimy" or "disgusting," such as slugs or horned toad innards. But Snape had to grudgingly admit that she had been improving lately, thanks to Allegra's influence, growing less squeamish and more confident.

Snape reluctantly gave the girls appropriately high marks for their papers, then took great pleasure in being able to mark down Kenneth Sloper's homework, circling all the errors in bright red ink. He was humming to himself cheerfully when Lupin sauntered into the room. The werewolf embraced him from behind, nuzzled the nape of his neck, and asked, "So which hapless student are you failing today, Severus?"

"Kenneth Sloper," Snape replied. 

"I should have known it was a Gryffindor, judging by your reaction," Lupin chuckled, shaking his head a little.

"It's not as if he doesn't deserve it," Snape retorted unrepentantly. "His work is sloppy; he's arrogant; and he's insolent. And so is his brother, for that matter."

"Peace, Sev," Lupin said, kissing him on the cheek. "I'm not trying to argue with you. I remember the prank that Kenneth played on Portia, putting that rubber rat on her plate. I agree that he could stand to be taken down a peg or two. He is stubborn and a little narrow-minded--common Gryffindor traits, I'm sorry to say. But he will gain maturity with time, I hope."

"Perhaps," Snape said doubtfully, but found himself disinclined to argue further when Lupin shoved aside the students' homework assignments and planted himself firmly down on Snape's lap. "Didn't the full moon already pass nearly two weeks ago, or have I lost track of time?" Snape asked sarcastically as Lupin wrapped his arms around Snape's neck.

"You seem to be under the misconception that I only desire you near the full moon," Lupin whispered into Snape's ear. "Let me prove to you how wrong you are, for I assure you that the wolf desires you at any time of the month."

"The wolf or the man?" Snape asked in a husky voice.

"Both," Lupin replied. "We are one and the same; you taught me that." And he silenced the Potions Master by kissing him hungrily, pushing his tongue between Snape's lips in a manner that was very demanding--and very erotic.

Full moon or not, Lupin was acting very wolfish that night, and his loud and lustful growls were probably the reason why neither of them heard the knock at the door. That, and the fact that Snape was also distracted by Lupin's hands and mouth roaming freely over his face, neck, and body.

The door swung open, and Dylan called out in a tentative voice, "Professor, Remus, are you in here?" Then he exclaimed, "Oh, I'm sorry!" when he caught sight of the two of them entwined in a passionate embrace, Lupin still sitting on the Potions Master's lap. Theodore peered over Dylan's shoulder to see what had startled his brother, and his face turned bright red.

Lupin was completely wrapped up in the taste, touch, and scent of his mate, oblivious to anything else around him. Then he heard his son's voice, and before he could fully register what Dylan was saying, he found himself unceremoniously dumped on the floor as Severus jumped to his feet.

Snape had started to draw his wand by reflex before he recognized the blushing faces of his two sons. Then he turned on Lupin, roaring, "Damn it, Lupin! Didn't you lock the door when you came in?!"

Lupin remained where he was, sprawled out on the floor, staring up in shock at his lover. He was taken aback by the strength of Severus's reaction; of course the Potions Master didn't like being embarrassed, but his fury seemed out of proportion to the situation. "I'm sorry, Severus," he said. "I was so eager to see you that I just forgot."

"Forgetting things like that can get you killed, Lupin!" Snape snarled. "I can't imagine how you survived the war with such a careless attitude!"

Lupin stood up, and very slowly and cautiously reached out to touch his lover's arm, as if trying to calm a wild animal. "Severus," he said gently, "the war is over. We are safe here at Hogwarts."

"Safe?" Snape shouted. "Do you really think this school is safe, Lupin? Have you forgotten the threats and hexes? Have you forgotten that both Theodore and Dylan were nearly killed during Slytherin's two Quidditch matches, not to mention the attack on Dietrich and the threatening notes sent to your precious Harry Potter?!"

"Perhaps we should discuss this in private, Severus," Lupin said quietly, letting his gaze shift towards Dylan and Theodore, who both looked pale and frightened. 

"It's my fault, Professor," Dylan said in a small voice. "I shouldn't have barged in like that. It's our night to play chess, and I did knock, but no one answered..."

The boys' anxious faces immediately broke through Snape's rage and restored him to sanity, as even Lupin's soothing touch and words had not, and he suddenly felt both foolish and ashamed.

"I'm sorry," Snape said gruffly. "As a spy, I lived with such caution for so many years, always warding my quarters and even my mind against intrusion, that it is a difficult habit to break. Letting down my guard for even a moment could have meant death or worse."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said, with more understanding this time. After living with the constant threat of being discovered as a traitor, of course Severus was cautious to the point of paranoia. He still warded his fireplace and door, but Lupin had thought it a reflex, something done merely out of habit. He should have known that the fear Severus had lived with for so many years would not be so easily banished, even with Voldemort dead. 

The war had left scars on all of them, but only Severus had been a spy, living two lives at once, and his scars probably ran deeper than anyone else's. What he had been through would have broken a lesser man, and Lupin often wondered how Severus had managed to come out alive and with his sanity intact. And the sad thing was, after everything Severus had endured and all the sacrifices he had made, some people--the very people that Severus had risked his life to save--still regarded him as a traitor rather than the hero he was. And although Lupin was normally a gentle man, the wolf in him suddenly wanted to hurt those people for treating Severus so badly.

But right now, what he did was lay his hand against his mate's cheek and say, "I didn't think, Severus. Please forgive me." He silently added, _Not just for failing to lock the door, but for temporarily forgetting about all the pain you suffered, my love._

Snape understood what Lupin's eyes, filled with compassion and remorse, were trying to convey. "There is nothing to forgive, Remus," he said, his voice managing to sound both gruff and apologetic at the same time. "We should still be careful, but I overreacted."

Lupin kissed him tenderly, and when Severus didn't push him away or scold him for doing so in front of the boys, he understood that it was the Potions Master's way of apologizing.

"I should have knocked louder or called out to you first," Dylan said, still looking distressed.

"No, it's all right, Dylan," Snape said, trying to sound reassuring. "I should have remembered that the two of you were stopping by tonight." He gave Lupin an obviously exaggerated glare and added, "The werewolf distracted me."

The boys smiled in relief and Lupin nuzzled Snape's neck, causing Snape to realize that his robes were unfastened and his shirt half-open. He flushed and glared at Lupin again as he hastily buttoned up his shirt.

Lupin just grinned at him, looking smug and possessive, causing Snape's blush to deepen. Then he turned to the boys and said cheerfully, "It is a good thing that you reminded me that I had forgotten to lock the door. I don't think we need to take the same level of precautions as we did during the war, but Severus is right; we need to be careful. I allowed myself to be lulled by the fact that there have been no incidents recently, but whoever carried out those dangerous pranks is still at large. Perhaps they've decided to stop, but I wouldn't care to risk anyone's safety on that supposition."

Snape, still feeling rather embarrassed about his outburst, said briskly, "Well, come in, then, and lock the door behind you. Let's get this game started; we don't have all night."

Theodore and Dylan grinned at each other, then closed and locked the door behind them. They settled down for a game of chess, Dylan playing against Snape while Theodore and Lupin watched, occasionally cheering or offering advice. Snape did not object when Lupin curled up against his side; the warmth of the werewolf's body seemed to seep into Snape's, driving away the chill fear that the memory of the Death Eaters had conjured up. All four of them luxuriated in the comforting familiarity of what Lupin liked to refer to as "family time," and for a couple of hours, it was as if everything outside of the room--including Death Eaters and mysterious pranksters--did not exist.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amos Diggory and the Auror Williamson continue to plot against Lukas and Snape; Narcissa makes a disturbing discovery; Aric is forced to make a decision regarding his betrothal.

Draco spotted Serafina sitting by the fireplace with Bast when he came back from Quidditch practice, and hesitantly walked over. He had begun making amends with the housemates he had offended, but he had not yet patched things up with Serafina. The two of them had not really talked to each other since their argument on Valentine's Day, but then again, Serafina said little even during the best of times, and at least recently she had not been staring at him with contempt, or worse, looking right through him as if he didn't exist.

"Hi," Draco said awkwardly as he sat on the floor next to her.

"Hi," Serafina said, and her voice, if not exactly warm, sounded cautiously receptive. Draco decided to take that as a good sign.

Bast came over and mewed at him in a loud, demanding voice, and Draco obligingly petted the kitten and rolled the ball of yarn it was playing with across the floor. The kitten happily ran after it.

"I thought it was dogs that liked to play fetch," Draco said, and Serafina smiled a little. "Am I human enough for you, then?" he asked, making reference to what she had told him on Valentine's Day: "Come talk to me again when you're ready to behave like a human being."

"Almost human, at least," Serafina replied, still smiling, but there still seemed to be a certain amount of caution in her violet eyes, as if she were holding back, waiting to see his reaction.

Draco lowered his voice to a whisper so that no one else could overhear his words. "I still don't like the idea of the werewolf...you know. Are you still going to hate me for that?" Draco winced slightly at the sound of his own voice, which had come out more pleading than defiant.

"I don't hate you, Draco," Serafina said softly. "I just hate the way you act sometimes." Draco flushed, feeling a little ashamed of himself, but said nothing. "You know it's not really because he's a werewolf that you hate him. In fact, it doesn't really have anything to do with him at all, does it?"

The rational part of Draco's mind knew that she was right. He didn't really hate Diggory, or rather, he would've hated anyone who tried to take his father's place. It had nothing to do with the werewolf personally. But he still couldn't bring himself to condone Diggory and Narcissa having a relationship. The less rational part of him was annoyed that Serafina was taking the werewolf's side over his, yet at the same time, he was relieved that she didn't hate him.

Draco wasn't accustomed to asking for anything; for most of his life, he had issued orders and demands, and the other Slytherins had always rushed to obey. But he had missed Serafina, because she was the only person he had truly felt comfortable confiding in--more than Theo or Dylan or even Lupin. And he didn't just miss having a sounding board; he missed sitting with her in the evenings in the common room, when they didn't say much, but just read books or did homework or played with Bast together. He missed just being near her.

So Draco asked humbly, "Can we still be friends? Even if we don't agree about...certain things?"

The discomfort of humbling himself vanished when Serafina smiled at him and said, "Yes, Draco. I never stopped being your friend, even when I was mad at you."

"Really?" Draco asked.

"Really," Serafina assured him. 

Draco pondered this for a moment, finding it a difficult concept to grasp. Was it possible to still be someone's friend when you weren't speaking to each other? But then, while it was true that she had been ignoring him, he had not exactly gone out of his way to talk to her, either. He knew that he hadn't exactly been pleasant company for the past couple of months.

"That means that I still like you even when I'm mad at you," Serafina explained patiently.

"Really?" Draco asked in a much brighter tone, feeling a sudden, heady feeling of elation. "You like me?"

Serafina's face turned bright red, and she quickly ducked her head, letting her long hair obscure her face. "Yes," she mumbled. "Even if you're an idiot sometimes."

Draco grinned widely, so pleased with her answer that he didn't take offense at that last insult. And even though they still did not see eye-to-eye on Diggory, it no longer seemed important enough to risk breaking up their friendship over.

So Draco was cheerfully playing with Bast when Aric stomped past them, looking thoroughly pissed off. He wondered what had set the other boy off, but he had been rather moody ever since he'd gotten the news of his potential betrothal. Theodore and Blaise came in a few minutes after that, looking a little flustered, then quickly headed for the dorm when they learned that their roommates weren't around. 

Draco felt a bit envious, not because he desired either boy (his tastes ran strictly towards the opposite sex), but because his relationship with Serafina had not progressed nearly so far. But he was afraid of doing anything to damage their fragile new truce, so he decided not to push matters. For now, he would just be content that she was speaking to him again.

*** 

Takeshi was on duty at St. Mungo's the next night when a patient was rushed in with numerous savage bite wounds all over his body. He and the Healer-in-Charge, Hippocrates Smethwyck, were in the middle of treating the patient's wounds when two Aurors rushed into the room. "We're trying to save this man's life, and you're getting in the way!" Smethwyck snapped angrily. "You can talk to him after we're done!"

Dawlish stepped back from the bed and motioned for Williamson to do the same. "We'll stay out of the way while you treat the patient, but this cannot wait. A werewolf attack is a serious matter."

"Werewolf attack?!" Takeshi exclaimed. "But the moon won't be full for another two weeks!"

"Yes, but Lukas Bleddri--or Cyril Diggory, if you prefer--apparently has the ability to transform when the moon is not full," Williamson said coldly. "He and that other werewolf did it in full view of over a dozen witnesses in Diagon Alley just last week."

"Wolves attacked me," the patient groaned. "Two huge wolves--one gray, one yellow."

"That's impossible!" Takeshi protested, feeling his blood run cold. He didn't believe for a second that Lukas had attacked this man, but he knew that his friend would be the most obvious suspect. 

"Attend to the patient before anything else, Mr. Kimura," Smethwyck said sternly, although there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes. 

"Yes, sir," Takeshi said, and focused his attention on the patient's wounds. Smethwyck worked healing magic to stop the bleeding and repair the badly torn flesh, while Takeshi applied healing salve and bandaged the wounds after the Healer was done. And as they worked, Takeshi began to notice something.

"These wounds were not inflicted by a werewolf!" Takeshi said triumphantly, even as he continued to treat the patient. "For one thing, while the bites were definitely made by a large canine, a werewolf's jaws are normally larger."

"That is true," Smethwyck agreed in a distracted manner as he continued to work his healing spells. "Werewolves do vary in size slightly, depending on the size of their human forms, but I would expect the bite marks to be larger."

"So it was a small werewolf," Williamson said irritably.

"Those wolves were huge, I tell you!" the patient argued.

"Sir, please calm down and lie still," Smethwyck urged in a soothing voice, then glared at the Aurors. "Can't you take his statement later?"

"If there are rogue werewolves running loose, we need to track them down as soon as possible," Dawlish said adamantly. "Besides, what if there isn't a 'later'?"

"Am I going to die?!" wailed the patient.

The Healer shot another glare at the Aurors. "No, you aren't going to die, Mister...ah..."

"Pritchard," Williamson supplied helpfully.

"You won't die, Mr. Pritchard," Smethwyck said firmly. "You've lost a lot of blood, but you'll be fine with a few days' bed rest, I promise."

"And the scratches!" Takeshi continued, pointing to a long red scratch on Pritchard's arm. "They haven't even broken the skin, for the most part, which means that they were made by a normal canine--a true wolf, or possibly a large dog." 

He continued bandaging the patient in an efficient manner while he gave Williamson a condescending look and said, "In case you have forgotten your lessons about Dark Creatures at Hogwarts, a normal canine has unretractable claws, which means that they become blunt and worn down from walking. Those are the type of claws that inflicted these scratches. A werewolf has long, sharp talons, more like those of a cat. Its claws aren't actually retractable, but a werewolf doesn't spend enough time in its wolf form for the claws to wear down. If this man had been attacked by a werewolf, its claws would have torn through the flesh and made much deeper wounds instead of mere scratches."

Williamson sneered and said in an insinuating tone, "Well, of course you'd stick up for the werewolves. You work at the charity clinic, don't you? I hear you're very...close...to them."

Takeshi couldn't help but flush a little, which was probably the response Williamson had been trying to provoke, which made him even more angry that he had allowed himself to be baited by the Auror. "I have many friends among the werewolves," Takeshi said coldly, looking Williamson right in the eye. "I don't consider that anything to be ashamed of."

"But you might try to interpret the facts in a manner to make your friends look better," Dawlish said with a frown.

"I agree with Mr. Kimura's assessment," Smethwyck said in a voice as cold as Takeshi's. "I have treated many victims of werewolf attacks, and I concur that while this man was attacked by a dog or wolf, he was not attacked by a werewolf. Aside from the shallow scratches, Mr. Pritchard is showing no sign of infection."

"I'm not going to turn into a werewolf?" Pritchard asked, sounding relieved.

"We will monitor your condition closely to be sure, but I am certain that you will not," Smethwyck replied.

"How can you tell whether or not he'd be turned before the full moon?" Williamson demanded. 

"If he had been infected, his wounds would have begun healing on their own," Smethwyck explained. "A werewolf does not develop its full lycanthropic healing powers until after its first transformation, but someone who has just been infected should show some signs of limited self-healing. If it were not for the self-healing magic, most werewolves would not survive the initial attack that infected them, and the species would fail to perpetuate itself."

"That would hardly be a loss," Dawlish muttered.

"Perhaps," Smethwyck said, giving him a disapproving look. "But in any case, it is my professional opinion that this man was not attacked by a werewolf." He added pointedly, "Unless you'd care to question my integrity or expertise?"

The Aurors exchanged a look. Smethwyck was a non-human sympathizer; he had supported the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program and Arthur Weasley's equal rights bill. However, he was also a respected Healer in a position of authority at St. Mungo's, and it would be impolitic of the Aurors to accuse or insult him the way they might a young, foreign-born mediwizard.

"No one is questioning your judgment, Healer Smethwyck," Dawlish said grudgingly. "We just want to get to the bottom of this matter." 

The Aurors waited sullenly but quietly while Smethwyck and Takeshi finished their work, then briefly questioned the patient. Pritchard couldn't tell them much, except that he'd been attacked while walking home from his favorite pub. But he insisted that the animals that had attacked him had been wolves, not dogs.

Smethwyck finally declared that the patient needed to get some rest, and the Aurors left. He gave Pritchard a combination sleeping/healing potion, then retreated to his office for a private discussion with Takeshi.

"I don't like this," the mediwizard said grimly. "It's too much of a coincidence, for there to be an apparent werewolf attack the week after Lukas and Ash were hailed as heroes for saving the Peasegood girl."

"You think that Amos Diggory arranged it?" Smethwyck asked, looking troubled. "I know that he has motive, but I still find it difficult to picture."

"Maybe," Takeshi said. "I don't know Amos Diggory, and I don't know what he's capable of, but I know that at the very least, he was capable of abandoning his nephew. Or it might be someone else entirely, someone with a grudge against werewolves who wants to make Lukas look bad."

"It was dark, and Pritchard had been drinking," Smethwyck said. "Perhaps he was merely attacked by stray dogs and his imagination built it up into something more."

Takeshi shook his head. "I find it disturbing that Pritchard claimed he was attacked by a yellow wolf. I suppose it could have been a tawny-colored dog, but it still seems like too much of a coincidence to me. It makes me think that someone is targeting Lukas specifically, and not just werewolves in general."

"Master Diggory has powerful friends," Smethwyck tried to reassure his young assistant. "And if necessary, you and I can testify in court that neither he nor any other werewolf was behind this attack."

"The public doesn't care about the facts," Takeshi said darkly. "They'll hear in the news that someone has been attacked by a werewolf, and that's all they'll remember. Even if Lukas is never formally charged, it could have an effect on his trial, not to mention stir up all the old fear and resentment of werewolves again." A startled look crossed Smethwyck's face, and Takeshi asked, "What is it?"

"I just realized that I know who our patient is," the Healer replied, looking even more troubled. "I didn't recognize him at first, all covered with blood, but the name just rang a bell. I don't know him personally, only by reputation, but..."

"But?" Takeshi asked impatiently.

"But I believe that Mr. Pritchard is a member of the Wizengamot," Smethwyck said. "Which means that he is also one of the people overseeing Master Diggory's trial." Takeshi cursed out loud, and the older wizard raised his eyebrows. "My, I had no idea that you possessed such a...colorful...vocabulary, Mr. Kimura."

"You should hear me swear in Japanese," Takeshi said with a sheepish little smile. Then his expression turned serious again and he said, "I think I should contact Morrigan De Lacy."

"I think that would be wise," Smethwyck agreed.

*** 

Lupin and Snape received an urgent summons from the Headmaster late at night, and hurried to Dumbledore's office to find two angry Aurors confronting an equally angry Lukas.

"I told you, I was in my quarters all night!" Lukas shouted.

"And can anyone vouch for that?" Dawlish demanded.

"No, I was alone, working on my lesson plans," Lukas replied, then added sarcastically, "If I had known that I would be needing an alibi, I would have invited a few of the teachers in for tea!"

"What is going on here?" Lupin asked.

"Elias Pritchard was attacked by two werewolves," Williamson said.

"By two animals that appeared to be wolves," Dumbledore corrected.

"But the moon isn't full," a puzzled Lupin said.

"You should know better than anyone that it's possible to evoke a change even when the moon isn't full, Lupin," Dawlish said, giving him a suspicious look.

"That's 'Professor' Lupin to you, Dawlish!" Snape snapped.

"It's not that easy," Lupin argued, looking distressed, because he could see what the Aurors were getting at. "In order to provoke the change, the wolf must feel that its life, or the life of someone it loves, is in danger. We can't just change whenever we feel like it."

"Maybe the two of you have figured out how to master the change," Williamson accused. "You both have inherited lycanthropy; maybe that works a bit different than infected lycanthropy."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Williamson," Snape snarled. "But that doesn't surprise me; you never paid much attention during class when you were a student here."

"You're not my professor anymore, Snape," Williamson sneered, and Snape's pale face turned red with anger.

"Well, what have you to say for yourself, Diggory?" Dawlish asked. "Are you going to claim self-defense and say that Pritchard tried to attack you?"

"No one attacked me, and I didn't attack anyone, because I've been sitting in my room all night!" Lukas shouted in frustration.

"Why do you think that this alleged werewolf was Lukas?" Lupin asked, still trying to figure out what was going on.

"Mr. Pritchard claimed that he was attacked by two wolves--one gray, one yellow," Dawlish replied.

"Even assuming that this creature really was a werewolf," Lupin said in a reasonable tone of voice, "that doesn't mean that it was Lukas. A werewolf's fur is the same color as its hair in human form, so it could have been any blond werewolf."

"Assuming that it was a werewolf, which I rather doubt," Snape added caustically.

"And by the way, Lupin, where were you tonight?" Williamson asked.

"With me," Snape snarled. "All night."

"How convenient," Williamson retorted in a deliberately insulting tone of voice.

"I don't believe that Lupin is involved--at least not directly," Dawlish interrupted impatiently. "I know that his wolf form is brown."

"Why would Lukas or I want to attack this man?" Lupin protested. "I've never even heard of him before!"

"Because Mr. Pritchard is a member of the Wizengamot," Dawlish said grimly. "One who has made no secret of the fact that he disapproves of the equal rights bill, and might well be expected to vote against Master Diggory in his lawsuit."

Lupin's eyes widened in shock, and Snape shouted, "That's ridiculous! Diggory is a bloody hero; they're even talking about giving him the Order of Merlin! Why would he jeopardize that by attacking a member of the Wizengamot?"

"It makes no sense," Dumbledore agreed in a much calmer voice. "It is true that Mr. Pritchard might have voted against Master Diggory, but it is also true that public opinion has swayed in his favor since the Graphorn incident. He doesn't need every vote on the Wizengamot; he just needs to get more than half. Even without Mr. Pritchard's support, it is very likely that Master Diggory would win his lawsuit if a vote were taken today."

"That sounds logical," Dawlish said skeptically, then turned towards Lukas. "But a wolf isn't motivated by logic, is it? You are motivated by instinct, and your instincts told you that Pritchard was a threat to you."

Lukas snarled and bared his teeth, which Lupin feared was only proving Dawlish's point in the eyes of the Aurors. Just then, green flames flared in the fireplace, and Morrigan De Lacy stepped into the room.

"You will cease harassing my client immediately!" she declared in an authoritative voice, then held up a sheet of parchment. "I have a sworn statement from a Healer and a mediwizard at St. Mungo's that Mr. Pritchard's wounds were not inflicted by a werewolf!"

"That was quick," Dawlish muttered.

"Kimura called you, didn't he?" Williamson asked disgustedly.

Morrigan held up another piece of parchment. "Furthermore, I have a writ from the Minister of Magic forbidding you to arrest Master Diggory unless you have some concrete evidence."

Dumbledore smiled at the Aurors and said cheerily, "Well then, you'd better get to work on your investigation, don't you think?" He made an inviting gesture towards the fireplace.

"Diggory could still be behind this!" Williamson blustered. "He could've sicced a pair of real wolves on Pritchard!"

"Prove it," Morrigan said coolly.

"If the attack was as recent as you say," Dumbledore observed mildly, "Master Diggory would have had to use the Floo to get in and out of the castle without being missed, as one cannot Apparate or Disapparate within the school grounds. I would suggest that you get back to the Ministry and check the Floo Network logs."

"Did you use the Floo in your quarters or your office at all today, Master Diggory?" Morrigan asked.

"No," Lukas replied.

"Well, that should allow you to clear things up and cross Lukas off your suspect list," Dumbledore said brightly. "Of course, he could have used another Floo in the castle, but as I don't believe that any of the staff left the school today, the logs should show that all the fireplaces in Hogwarts were inactive."

"Then perhaps you can get back to work finding the real suspect," Morrigan said pointedly.

Looking angry and defeated, Dawlish turned abruptly turned away, flung a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace, shouted, "Ministry of Magic!" and stepped through the flames. 

Williamson paused to glare at them all and snap, "This isn't over yet! You'll slip up, and then I'll be back--with an official arrest warrant!" Then he followed his partner through the fireplace.

"What the hell is going on?" Lukas demanded.

Morrigan explained everything that Takeshi and Smethwyck had told her. "Mr. Kimura believes that someone is trying to frame you."

"I would say that's obvious," Snape said acerbically.

"It's Amos!" Lukas growled, pounding his fist on Dumbledore's desk. "It has to be!"

"He has the most motive," Morrigan agreed calmly. "Although it doesn't really seem like his style. Still, he does work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I suppose he could have managed to obtain a couple of wolves and used them to attack Pritchard in an attempt to frame you. Or more likely, hired someone else to do it. He doesn't strike me as the type to get his hands dirty. Still, Mr. Kimura believes it's possible that someone else with a grudge against werewolves could be behind this attack. As the leader of most of the werewolves in England, you would be a prime target. You should be careful, too, Remus. You're as famous as Lukas, and if this is about sullying the werewolves' image, the culprit might target you next. Even if this is something personal against Lukas, they might still target you since you are his friend and ally."

"I'll be careful," Lupin said gravely.

"Let them try and attack him," Snape said with a murderous gleam in his black eyes.

"I doubt they will try anything so direct," Morrigan told him. "It's much more likely that they'll try to slander his name."

"I am tired of dealing with enemies hiding in shadows!" Snape spat, looking extremely frustrated and irate.

"It's like dealing with the Death Eaters again," Lupin sighed wearily.

"Be careful," Dumbledore warned Lukas solemnly. "It would probably be best if you spent most of your free time in the presence of at least one other teacher..."

"So that I'll always have an alibi?" Lukas growled. "Am I supposed to get someone to sleep in my quarters, too?"

"You could," Dumbledore said with a smile, "but I hadn't thought that you'd taken a fancy to any of your colleagues." Lukas growled again, glaring at the Headmaster. "I'm sorry, Lukas," Dumbledore apologized sincerely. "It isn't fair, for you to need to create an alibi in the first place."

"If life were fair, I wouldn't be a werewolf," Lukas said with a bitter smile. "I will heed your advice, Headmaster, as much as I loathe the need for it."

"Warn your werewolves to be careful, too," Morrigan said. "They do not have the luxury of being sheltered in as secure a place as Hogwarts."

"If Amos tries to hurt my pack, I'll kill him!" Lukas shouted, looking pale and wild-eyed.

"That might be what your uncle wants, Diggory!" Snape said sharply. "He may be trying to provoke you into an attack so that you can be arrested!"

Lukas sank into a nearby chair, looking stricken. "I never should have let Gwen convince me to challenge Amos for the title," he whispered. "I never should have let Skeeter write me up as a hero after the war was over."

"Arthur could not have passed the equal rights bill without the publicity Skeeter's articles generated," Lupin said gently.

"Maybe it would have been better to dwell as outcasts, in poverty and obscurity," Lukas said, his yellow-green eyes looking haunted. "Or if not better, then at least safer."

"I didn't think you were the type to tuck your tail between your legs, Diggory," Snape said curtly, and Lupin elbowed him in the side, although he knew that his lover was trying to help Lukas in a roundabout way, by using anger to snap him out of his despair.

But Lukas looked up at Snape without any anger, which was probably a bad sign. "I am not afraid for my own sake," he said quietly. "My life has been at risk ever since I was twelve years old, when my father died. I have learned to live with the ever-present threat of death. But to have my pack be put in danger because of me..."

Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "I will ask Tonks and Kingsley to watch over your pack, Lukas."

"But they can't guard them twenty-four hours a day!" Lukas snapped.

"I know," Dumbledore said sympathetically, not taking any offense at the werewolf's tone of voice. "But it's the best I can do for now. I can place some protective wards on the house; it would probably be best if the werewolves do not venture out more than is necessary. They should take the Floo directly to work or wherever they need to go, if at all possible."

"They'll be prisoners in their own home!" Lukas protested in an anguished voice.

"But he's right, Lukas," Morrigan said. "The Minister will do his best to protect the werewolves against false accusations, but it would be best if we minimized the opportunity for trouble. Not to mention the possibility of vigilante attacks if your uncle or the Aurors manage to drum up some anti-werewolf sentiment."

"Why did we bother to defeat the Death Eaters if we were just going to turn on each other like this?!" Lupin cried. "Didn't people learn anything from the war?"

"You always got good grades in History, Remus," Dumbledore said sadly. "You should know that building a lasting peace is always much harder than winning a war."

*** 

The next morning, the headline on the cover of the Daily Prophet read: "WOLF ATTACK IN LONDON!" Rita Skeeter had dutifully reported all the facts of the story, including Smethwyck's statement that a werewolf could not have inflicted the victim's wounds, but that calm and clinical statement did little to distract from the inflammatory headline, or the Aurors' statements that they were investigating possible ties between the werewolves and the attack. And Williamson made a point of mentioning that the victim was a member of the Wizengamot who was opposed to equal rights for werewolves.

The Great Hall was buzzing with gossip, and most of the students sounded angry about the accusations. But a few of them glanced over at Lukas with fearful or suspicious looks on their faces.

At the Gryffindor table, the Sloper brothers were among the students giving Lukas nervous looks. "Do you really suppose that Master Diggory attacked that man?" Kenneth asked.

A furious Hermione pulled out her wand and a burst of flame shot out from it, reducing the Slopers' newspaper into a pile of ash.

"Hey!" Jack protested. 

"Do you really believe all that rubbish?" Hermione demanded. "It's just Rita Skeeter up to her old tricks again!" She added in a softer, but no less angry voice to Harry and Ron, "And she's going to be very sorry that she broke her promise!"

"Actually, the article is pretty well-balanced apart from the headline," Ginny observed. "She does point out that it wasn't the full moon, and that the Healer at St. Mungo's says that the wounds weren't made by a werewolf. The Aurors are the ones making accusations against the werewolves. They're not accusing Master Diggory directly, but they're dropping some pretty big hints, like saying that the victim was a member of the Wizengamot who was overseeing Master Diggory's trial."

"People won't care about the little details," Harry said, suddenly feeling a deep sense of sympathy for his teacher, having been the object of Rita Skeeter's slanderous articles in the past. "They'll see the headline, and they'll see that the Aurors suspect Master Diggory, and they'll automatically assume it's a werewolf attack."

At the head table, McGonagall tried to comfort Lukas by saying, "The students have faith in you, Master Diggory."

"I'm not worried about what the students think of me," Lukas said glumly. "I'm more worried about what the Wizengamot and the public at large will think. My pack is living openly among the humans now, which makes them a target for my enemies and for any vigilantes who get inspired by this damned article. Maybe I should take a leave of absence to watch over them."

"If you leave the school, people will see it as an admission of guilt," Dumbledore warned.

"Maybe you need something like a Muggle surveillance system for the werewolves' house and the clinic," Satoshi suggested. The tanuki had spent a great deal of time living among normal humans in Japan, enough to have a good understanding of Muggle technology.

"A what?" Snape asked.

"A device that would record and monitor the people coming and going into and out of the building," Satoshi explained. "And that would trigger an alarm if an intruder tries to break in."

"The house and the clinic aren't wired for electricity," Lukas said. "But maybe we could rig up some warding spells that would perform a similar function."

"You should just post Bane on guard at the werewolves' residence," Snape said, giving the raven a wry little smile. "He's certainly proved effective at monitoring the students."

The raven cawed, sounding displeased at the idea of being separated from his mistress, and Branwen stroked her familiar, a thoughtful look on her face. "Not Bane, but perhaps I might be able to help in another way...let's discuss this in private."

Dumbledore, Lukas, Lupin, and Snape followed Branwen to the Incantations workroom. "I could try to summon some elementals to keep watch over your pack," she told Lukas. "It won't be a perfect guarantee of their safety, though," she cautioned. "Air elementals are the only ones that would be able to move freely and carry messages back to me if trouble does break out, and air elementals are notoriously capricious and difficult to control. They have a short attention span, and it's difficult to make them stick to an extended task, such as the type of surveillance that Satoshi suggested."

"But you're a Master Summoner," Snape said.

Branwen smiled at him. "You flatter me, Severus. It would be no problem to keep the elementals under control if they were close at hand, say, on the school grounds. But the farther away they are from me physically, the harder it is to control them. What I will do is this: I will summon several elementals at once and set them to watching over your pack, Lukas. A few will probably get bored and drift away from their task, but enough should remain to warn us of any trouble. If nothing happens after a few days, I'll dismiss them and summon a new batch. Their attention span won't hold for much longer than that, no matter how devoted they are to me." 

"And I will go down to the house and the clinic today to set up some protective wards," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you," Lukas said gratefully. "I appreciate whatever help the two of you can give me."

"Then I had better get to work setting up the Summoning spell," Branwen said.

"I wonder..." Lukas said speculatively.

"Yes?" Branwen asked.

"While you're at it, would you be able to summon an elemental to keep an eye on Amos?" Lukas asked. "It would help if I could prove that he was involved with this fake werewolf attack."

"Just so you know," Dumbledore said in a conversational tone, "it's illegal to use an elemental or other such spirit to spy on a wizard without his knowledge. And of course I know that my staff would never do anything illegal. Well, I'd better be off now. Good luck with the elementals, Branwen." The old wizard smiled and winked at them, then left the room.

"So can you do it?" Lukas asked. "Or rather, will you do it?"

"Of course," Branwen said with a serene smile. "But even if we find out that Amos is guilty, evidence gathered illegally is inadmissible in court."

"It doesn't matter," Lukas said. "We can figure out later how to bring him down. I just want to be certain that he's the one behind this. And if it isn't him, then we'll know we need to look elsewhere."

"Very well," Branwen said. Snape and Lupin helped her inscribe the protective circle and runes on the floor; Lukas merely watched, as he was untrained in Summoning spells. Branwen smiled approvingly at her two former pupils. "I'm glad to see that you haven't forgotten what I taught you," she said. Lupin grinned and Snape regarded her with his usual scowl. Once the circle was completed, Branwen performed the Summoning, and a multitude of air elementals swarmed around her, raising little gusts of wind that caused her hair to float and her robes to billow out, and also ruffled an irritated Bane's feathers. She whispered instructions to the elementals, then they whirled off and vanished, leaving the air in the workroom still once more.

"It's done," Branwen said. "Now all we can do is wait."

*** 

The elemental assigned to Amos Diggory immediately flew off to the Diggory residence in Ottery St. Catchpole. It watched its target carefully, but Amos did nothing more exciting than eat breakfast and drink coffee while reading a newspaper. The elemental did note that Amos frowned, looking displeased about what he read. However, the creature soon grew bored, and amused itself by sending a playful little breeze that sent an unread section of the newspaper flying into the air.

"Goodness!" Helen Diggory exclaimed. "There must be a draft coming through the window." She got up and closed a nearby window that had been left open to let in sunlight and fresh air. "That's funny, though," she said, sounding puzzled. "It didn't seem like a windy day this morning."

"I don't have time to read the rest of the paper, anyway," Amos said, rising to his feet. "I need to get to the office early and take care of a few things."

"Please don't overwork yourself, dear," Helen said, looking concerned.

Amos kissed his wife on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. There's just a bit of paperwork I need to finish up." He strode over the fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo Powder, and said, "Ministry of Magic!"

The elemental tried to follow Amos through the fireplace, but found itself repelled, and was blown back into the room, along with a handful of ashes from the fireplace.

"The wind's blowing down the chimney now?" Helen said, to no one in particular. "I wonder if we have some sort of imp loose in the house? I hope it's not a doxy. Maybe I should borrow some repellant from Mrs. Weasley."

The air elemental ignored her and left the house, exiting up the chimney. This elemental was more determined than most, and flew off to the Ministry of Magic, thinking that it might be able to get in from the outside even if it couldn't go through the Floo. However, it found that the building was well-warded, and could not find even a small crack in the defenses to slip through. Finally it gave up, and flew back to its mistress to report defeat.

*** 

Branwen went to see Lukas between classes and told him, "The elemental tried to follow Amos to work, but the protective wards on the Ministry kept it out. They must have strengthened their defenses after the war."

"Like locking the barn door after the horse is stolen," Lukas scoffed.

"I've instructed the elemental to keep a watch on Amos's house," Branwen continued. "That's the best I can do right now."

"If Amos is up to something fishy, he'll probably be doing it on his own time, anyway, not at work," Lukas said.

*** 

But in this instance, Lukas was wrong. Amos managed to catch Williamson alone in the halls and hissed, "I have to talk to you!"

"Not here," Williamson said, and led him to a supply closet, where he warded the door and cast a silence spell. 

"Your plan failed!" Amos shouted, once the spells were in place.

"It didn't fail," Williamson said coolly. "We just had a minor setback."

"The Healer told the paper that it wasn't a werewolf attack, after all!" Amos shouted. "You call that 'a minor setback'?!"

"I didn't count on the St. Mungo's staff being werewolf sympathizers," Williamson said with a scowl. "But still, it's set a bit of doubt in people's minds. When the public reads that a man was attacked by wolves, they'll immediately think of a werewolf attack. They're not going to put too much faith in some supposed expert's opinion about the length of a werewolf's claws.

"But when he doesn't transform during the next full moon, they'll know Pritchard wasn't bitten by a werewolf!" Amos argued.

"We don't actually have to prove in court that a werewolf did it," Williamson said. "We just have to get the public--and the Wizengamot--to believe it. A few more attacks like this one, and there will be so much hysteria that your nephew will seem like a menace instead of a hero. And I'll be more careful in the future. I'll make sure to physically transfigure the dogs instead of just using an Illusion spell. I'll give them nice long, sharp claws like a werewolf should have. So nice of that brat Kimura to give me such an accurate description."

"Why'd you make the second wolf gray, anyway?" Amos asked sullenly. "Wouldn't it have been better to make it brown, so that we could accuse Lupin or that other werewolf Randolf? We ought be discrediting all those werewolf 'heroes'." He said the word "heroes" with an obvious note of sarcastic contempt.

"Because wolves are normally gray," Williamson said impatiently. "I wanted to make sure that Pritchard would think they were wolves and not just a couple of big dogs. Now that we've established the idea of a werewolf attack in people's minds, we can try to implicate Lupin or Randolf. Quit your griping, Amos. I'm doing most of the work, after all."

"I'm at risk, too," Amos protested. "We could both be thrown in Azkaban if we're caught."

"We won't get caught," Williamson said with an air of brash confidence that didn't reassure Amos.

"Maybe we should stop now, or at least hold off for awhile," Amos said nervously. "Maybe you're right; maybe the rumors will be enough to keep Cyril from winning the trial."

"But you don't just want to win the trial, do you, Amos?" Williamson said persuasively. "You want to take Cyril down, see him locked up like the beast he is. And I'm not just doing this for your sake, Amos, much as I like you. I want to take down Snape as well, remember?"

"And how do you intend to do that?" Amos asked.

"I have a plan," Williamson said with a smug grin. "It might even help account for the inconsistencies in the wolves' appearance. But I'll need a little help from a friend at Hogwarts to pull it off."

*** 

Narcissa Malfoy saw the article in the Daily Prophet and worried about Lukas, although she didn't know why. It wasn't as if the werewolf was a part of her life anymore. But still...she did not want to see him go to Azkaban. She knew that he was capable of violence, and she knew from personal experience that he was given to acting on impulse and following his wolfish instincts, but somehow she did not believe that he had attacked Elias Pritchard. She could see him getting into a brawl and killing someone in a fit of rage, but she couldn't see him cold-bloodedly stalking someone in his wolf form and attacking them without warning, like an assassin.

Well, perhaps if they were a threat to his pack, but Pritchard didn't seem to be any more of a threat than anyone else on the Wizengamot, and Lukas couldn't very well kill everyone who might vote against him. Narcissa thought of the werewolf's feral, yellowish eyes and shuddered a little, with both fear and an echo of remembered pleasure. If Lukas really wanted to kill someone, they would be dead. He would never have left the job half-finished and his victim still alive.

Narcissa sighed and set the paper aside. She was going over to Aileen Pierce's house for tea, and she needed to get ready. It had been a long time since she had last seen her friend. She had been depressed after Lukas broke up with her, and she had avoided Aileen, knowing that the other woman was perceptive enough to pick up on her mood, and Narcissa had not really wanted to explain to her friend just why she was depressed. And lately she had been feeling nauseous, finding it difficult to keep any food down. Perhaps it was some sort of ironic justice, that she had caught a bad case of the flu after pretending to be sick to avoid the Snapes' party. She had taken some tonics, but none of them seemed to help much. Maybe she ought to see a Healer, but she hated venturing out where she might encounter some of her old friends who now scorned her.

Still, she was feeling a little better today, good enough to feel up to accepting Aileen's invitation. Besides, it was obvious from Aileen's letters that she was beginning to get worried, and Narcissa wanted to set her mind at ease--and stave off any suspicions that might cause her to investigate Narcissa's personal life.

So Narcissa slipped into her favorite green velvet gown and laced up the bodice, admiring her reflection in the mirror. She was proud of herself for maintaining her beauty and her figure, despite being old enough to have a teenage son. She winced a little as she tightened the bodice laces, though, noticing that her breasts were a little tender and sore. Perhaps her period was due; she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thought. And then she suddenly realized that it had been a very long time since her last period, and began counting back, trying to remember when it had last occurred. Not in April, not in March...Narcissa grew increasingly frantic as she realized that her last period had been way back in late January or early February, well before her last encounter with Lukas.

And then she realized that her symptoms had not really been very flu-like--no coughing, sore throat, or fever, just a constant sense of nausea. The last time she had felt so sick had been when she was pregnant with Draco...

Narcissa sank to her knees and burst into tears.

*** 

When Narcissa arrived for tea, Aileen Pierce noticed that her friend seemed tense and agitated, and that her eyes were red, as if from crying. "Whatever is wrong, Narcissa dear?" she asked gently.

Narcissa bit her lower lip, looking like the frightened young first-year that Aileen remembered from her days at Hogwarts. "I'm pregnant," she finally blurted out.

Aileen stared at her in shock, then exclaimed, "Oh! But you...I didn't know...you never told me that you had a...a...a suitor!"

Narcissa flushed and hung her head. "He wasn't really someone...suitable," she mumbled.

Aileen felt a little hurt that Narcissa had not confided in her about this mysterious lover sooner. But then again, if he was someone unsuitable, perhaps Narcissa had been afraid that Aileen might discourage her from seeing him--which was quite possible, even probable. Well, there was no point in crying over spilt milk; now she had to see if anything could be salvaged from this situation.

"How far along are you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure exactly," Narcissa whispered. "A little over two months, I think."

"Honestly, Narcissa," Aileen said, a little exasperation seeping into the sympathy in her voice, "how could you let this happen? There's no harm in a little discreet pleasure, but to get knocked up like some naive little Gryffindor schoolgirl who doesn't know about birth control spells? I taught you those spells myself when you were thirteen years old!" Of course, back then, little Narcissa had been planning to keep herself "pure" for her future husband--her family had had their eye on the rich and handsome Lucius Malfoy--but the ever-practical Aileen, as cynical as any good Slytherin should be, had known that the best of intentions could go astray, and had taught her younger friend the spells "just in case".

Narcissa blushed guiltily, looking like she was indeed thirteen instead of thirty-seven. "It's just," she said in a small, chastened voice, "that...well...I never used any birth control charms or spells during my entire marriage. I secretly used a fertility potion to help me conceive Draco because I wanted to give Lucius an heir right away. I never got pregnant again after that. I thought...I thought I couldn't get pregnant without magical help..."

"For Merlin's sake!" Aileen snapped. "Everyone knows that a wizard or witch's fertility can be capricious. Some of the Healers say that it's because of the effect that our magic has on our bodies. Just look at Goewin and Mathias Donner, him old enough to be her grandfather and married twenty years before their baby Ariana came along!"

"I'm sorry!" wailed Narcissa, bursting into tears.

Aileen sighed and relented, wrapping her arms around Narcissa, comforting her the way she used to when Narcissa had been a homesick first-year at Hogwarts. It had always been Aileen that Narcissa had sought comfort from, never her older sisters Bellatrix and Andromeda. But then, Andromeda had been in Ravenclaw and hadn't spent much time with her sisters, and no one in their right mind would seek comfort from Bellatrix, who even then had been a sadist. Aileen had had the impression that Bellatrix had been jealous of her little sister, because she was so beautiful--the loveliest girl not just in the Black family, but in all of Slytherin--and because their parents had spoiled her, since she had been the baby of the family.

Aileen held Narcissa until she stopped crying, wiped away her tears with a handkerchief, and made her drink some hot tea. "Well, then," Aileen said briskly. "What's done is done; no point in scolding you about what you should have done. The question is, what will you do now? Will this suitor marry you?"

"No!" Narcissa cried, looking horrified.

Aileen frowned disapprovingly. "Is he such a cad, that he won't take responsibility for what he's done? Will he leave you to bear the child, and the disgrace, alone?"

"He's not like that!" Narcissa said defensively. "He doesn't even know that I'm pregnant!"

"Hmm," Aileen said, raising her eyebrows at how quickly Narcissa had jumped to her lover's defense; Narcissa blushed.

"I can't marry him, even if he wanted to marry me," Narcissa said quietly.

"Is he married, then?" Aileen asked, trying to think of which married pureblood men might appeal to Narcissa.

"No, it's not that," Narcissa replied. "It's just...he's not suitable husband material."

Aileen raised her eyebrows again. "Is he a Mudblood or a half-blood, then?" Narcissa said nothing and would not meet her eyes. "Well, if he will not or cannot marry you, then we must find a way to rid you of the child," Aileen said. "It's early enough that it should not do much harm to your body. I know of a place in Knockturn Alley where you can get a potion--"

"No!" cried Narcissa, protectively wrapping her arms around her stomach.

Aileen stared at her in surprise. "But Narcissa, you cannot bear a child out of wedlock; you would be disgraced. And even if you don't care about your reputation, you have Draco to think of--"

"I know, but I can't kill this baby, I just can't!" Narcissa sobbed. "Oh Aileen, I just don't know what to do!"

Aileen sighed helplessly. "Is your lover really so unsuitable?" she asked. "Even if he has Muggle blood, well...times have changed. Harry Potter is a half-blood, after all, and the new Minister of Magic, though a pureblood, is known for his liberal policies."

"You...you wouldn't care if I married a Mudblood?" Narcissa sniffled, looking startled.

Aileen had been taught to look down on those whose blood was not pure; it was practically an automatic reflex in Slytherin House. But she had never wasted much time thinking about it, and she had never felt the strong hatred for the Muggle-born that had driven many of her housemates to join the Death Eaters. "Well, I can't say that the idea thrills me," Aileen finally said after a long silence, "but as I said, times have changed, and surely it's better than having a bastard child." She laid her hand gently on Narcissa's cheek. "So long as you are happy, dear, I will support you."

Narcissa threw her arms around her friend, and Aileen held her once more while she wept. But when she stopped crying and lifted her head from Aileen's shoulder, Narcissa said, "I cannot marry him."

"Then there is only one other option," Aileen said. "You must have the child in secret and give it away." She frowned. "It will be difficult, though. You can disguise your figure with Illusion spells, but if someone--your son, for instance--tries to hug you, he'll notice that there's more of you than is visible. And you will definitely be showing by the time school gets out in June. Perhaps you could go on a long trip overseas...but Draco will think it odd that you would want to be gone when he graduates..."

"Give up my child?" Narcissa whispered. "To whom?"

Aileen shrugged. "An orphanage, I suppose..."

"No!" Narcissa shouted. "I've heard horrible stories about such places!"

Aileen sighed yet again; Narcissa was certainly not making this easy! She dearly loved her friend, but Narcissa had been spoiled and indulged ever since she was a child, and was used to getting her way and having other people solve her problems for her. Aileen had to admit that she was probably also guilty of spoiling Narcissa; she had always wanted a little sister, and as a child, Narcissa had been pretty as a doll, with emerald eyes and golden ringlets of hair, and had looked up to Aileen so adoringly that it had been difficult not to indulge her even when you had known that you shouldn't.

So Aileen once again found herself helping Narcissa out of trouble, but this time it was much more serious than detention for a prank or sneaking out of the dorm after hours. "Well, Dumbledore has always been a bleeding heart," Aileen said, a little irritably. "I am sure he can find a good foster home for the child." As Narcissa opened her mouth to protest, Aileen quickly added, "We won't tell him that it's yours, of course!" She thought things things over, then said, "I'll tell him that one of the workers at Liam's factory, a girl of low rank, got pregnant by a man who refuses to marry her--some pureblood rake who used her for a bit of fun. It's not really all that uncommon, and I'm sure Dumbledore will take pity on the child..." 

Aileen's expression brightened as something occurred to her. "In fact...maybe he can persuade the Snape family to adopt the baby! After all, it seems that Snape's son is unlikely to be fathering any children of his own, from what I've heard about that ruckus at the Yule Ball. Your baby will have old, pure blood, after all, and the Malfoys are distantly related to the Snapes. We won't tell them that the child is a Malfoy, but I can swear under oath that the child does have Snape blood." Aileen felt very pleased with herself. "And as a Snape, your baby would be well-cared for and would want for nothing. Of course, Theodore is a bit young to be raising a child, and I can't see Severus caring for a baby, but my son says that Lupin is very softhearted and--"

"No!" Narcissa protested, an alarmed look on her face. "Remus can't raise this baby!"

"Why not?!" demanded Aileen, feeling a little put out at having her perfect solution turned down. "You can't keep the baby, but you won't abort it, and you won't give it away! What do you plan to do with it? I know that Lupin is a werewolf, but I'm sure that he would take good care of the baby--"

"It's not that I think he would be a bad parent," Narcissa said softly. "I'm sure he would be a very good one. It's just that...I'm afraid that he might recognize the baby..."

Aileen stared at Narcissa in confusion until the obvious occurred to her. "Lupin knows the father!"

"Yes," Narcissa whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Well, there's no guarantee that the baby will resemble the father that strongly," Aileen tried to reassure her. 

Narcissa glanced up, and she looked frightened and ashamed. "I am afraid that you will hate me if I tell you the truth about the baby's father."

Aileen took Narcissa's hands in hers and said gently, "My dear, I could never hate you. You were once a Death Eater, but I do not hold it against you. Surely you know that you can tell me the truth."

"Remus would actually be a good foster parent to this baby," Narcissa whispered, "because...because...the baby's father is a werewolf."

"What?!" Aileen exclaimed.

"See, I knew you would hate me!" Narcissa wailed.

"No, I don't!" Aileen protested, her thoughts whirling around inside her head dizzily. "It's just...it's such a shock...where on earth did you meet a werewolf, anyway?! I thought Lupin was the only werewolf that you knew, and he's said to be quite devoted to Severus. Wait...Damien said that there's another werewolf teaching there now, the one who turned out to be..." Her voice trailed off, and the look on Narcissa's face seemed to confirm Aileen's suspicions. "Don't tell me that your secret lover is Cyril Diggory!"

"Yes," Narcissa said, her cheeks flaming red. "Only he prefers to call himself 'Lukas'. So you see, I can't send this child to just any foster home. What if it turns out to be a werewolf?" Her face turned from red to sheet-white as she placed her hands on her belly. "What if...what if instead of a baby, there's a wolf cub growing in my womb?"

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Narcissa!" Aileen said. "Even if the child did inherit its father's lycanthropy--which is by no means certain--it won't begin to show symptoms for at least a few years. You're not going to give birth to a puppy." 

There was not a great deal published about inherited lycanthropy, but Lupin and Diggory had shared a few bits of information with their classes, and Damien, who seemed quite taken with his werewolf teachers, had told her about all the fascinating things he was learning in their classes. A little concerned about her son's fondness for the werewolves, Aileen had done some research on her own that seemed to confirm that what they were teaching was true. Which didn't necessarily reassure her all that much, but since Lupin had defended the Slytherin children during the final battle, she had decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"I suppose you're right," Narcissa admitted sheepishly. "Still, I'm afraid that I'll have nightmares about giving birth to a wolf cub." 

"And yet you won't abort the baby," Aileen said.

"I can't," Narcissa whispered, staring at her with pleading eyes. "I just can't."

"You love him," Aileen said quietly. "Cyril Diggory, or Lukas Bleddri, or whatever name he is currently going by." Tears began to spill out of Narcissa's eyes again. "Well," Aileen said slowly, "the situation might not be so bad after all. He is a hero of the war, and if he wins his lawsuit, he will become Lord Diggory. You would be marrying a Lord, not some penniless nobody."

"B-but he's a werewolf!" Narcissa protested.

"He will be Lord Werewolf," Aileen said whimsically. In a more serious voice, she added, "It is true that many people will shun you, but as they are already shunning you now, I can't see that it will make a great deal of difference. Lady Selima, at least, might welcome you, if it makes her son's romance with Lupin a little less shocking. She is supporting your lover's claim to the Diggory title, is she not? And of course Severus will stand by you, and I've heard that the Minister of Magic is a friend of the werewolves. The favor of the Snape and Weasley families might help make up for whatever disgrace you would face for marrying a werewolf. And if Cyril Diggory is to become a Lord, might he not welcome an heir?"

Narcissa shook her head, still weeping. "No, he told me once that he plans to name his cousin as his heir because he doesn't want to pass his curse on to his children. It's one of the key points of his lawyer's argument, to pacify the Wizengamot, that the title will eventually return to a pureblood wizard. And..." She began crying harder. "He hates all purebloods, because of the way his uncle and grandparents cast him out of the family. He despises us; he'd never want to marry me!"

"He seems to have overcome his distaste long enough to get you pregnant," Aileen pointed out dryly.

"We hated each other when we first met," Narcissa said between sobs. "Yet we were somehow drawn to each other; I still don't understand why. I hated him, too, but we couldn't keep away from each other. Every time we met, we'd trade insults, but the sex was...amazing." She blushed. "Not that it was bad with Lucius, but this was so much more passionate and intense..."

"It's not all that surprising," Aileen said thoughtfully. "Ariane and Evan were much the same, and Severus was always fighting with Lupin and his Gryffindor friends when we were children. Love and hate are flip sides of the same coin, I suppose."

"He broke it off with me about two months ago," Narcissa said miserably. "Right around the time I must've gotten pregnant, come to think of it. Said that we had no future, so there was no point in continuing our affair."

"Are you sure he doesn't know?" Aileen asked suspiciously.

"Yes, I'm sure," Narcissa replied. "He's an honorable man, in his own way. He wouldn't just brush off his responsibility. He'd either marry me even if he didn't want to, or demand that I get rid of the child so as not to bring another werewolf into the world. I'm not really sure which."

"And you don't want to take the chance that he might want you to abort the baby?" Aileen asked. "Or are you too proud to let him marry you if it's only out of a sense of duty?"

"It's not just that," Narcissa said, sounding distraught. "It's Draco--how would he react, not just to having a werewolf stepfather, but to a half-brother or sister? He still hasn't gotten over losing Lucius..."

"Draco is nearly a man now," Aileen said impatiently. "You need to stop spoiling him as if he were a child. He won't like it, but he'll just have to deal with it. It's much more important for you to have a husband and a father for your baby than it is to spare his feelings being hurt."

"It's more than just hurt feelings," Narcissa argued tearfully. "I murdered his father in front of his eyes! How is he supposed to get over that? How do you think your son would have reacted if you had killed Liam in front of him?"

Aileen managed to refrain from saying that her husband wasn't a coward like Lucius Malfoy who would sacrifice his son to save his own skin. Which was probably a good thing, because Narcissa burst into tears again. "Oh Aileen, I know I can't keep this baby, but I don't want to give it up, either!"

Aileen spent most of the afternoon comforting a hysterical Narcissa, thinking to herself that it was going to be a long seven months. But she promised her friend that she would somehow find a way to help Narcissa have the baby in secret and find a good home for it afterwards, although she still wasn't sure how she was going to accomplish that. She was of half a mind to track down Cyril Diggory herself and force him to marry Narcissa, using an Imperius Curse if necessary, but Narcissa had enough presence of mind to demand, "You mustn't say anything to Lukas, Aileen, promise me! Your word as a Slytherin!"

"I promise," Aileen said reluctantly. However, she did notice that Narcissa had not said anything about speaking to someone other than Diggory, and like all Slytherins, Aileen was very good at adhering to the letter and not necessarily the spirit of an agreement. She would have to be very careful, of course; she couldn't entrust this secret to just anyone, but if an opportunity arose to help Narcissa out of her predicament, she would certainly take it...

*** 

Branwen's elementals continued to keep watch over the werewolves, the clinic, and Amos Diggory. The ones watching the werewolves' house reported that a couple of wizards--Dawlish and Williamson, from the descriptions the elementals gave--often stopped by and watched the house from the outside. They went to the clinic once, and questioned the werewolves there in such a belligerent and accusing manner that Takeshi told them to leave or he would throw them out. The two Aurors laughed uproariously at his threat, but the werewolves noticed a very stubborn and dangerous glint in the mediwizard's eyes, which they had never before seen in their normally kind and gentle friend.

When Takeshi reached into his pocket and grasped his wand, Dawlish stopped laughing and warned, "Attacking an Auror is an offense punishable by a prison sentence in Azkaban," although he did not look overly concerned.

"Aw, what's he going to do?" Williamson scoffed. "Cast a healing spell at us?"

"We'll leave for now," Dawlish said. "But we'll be back. You might want to choose your friends more carefully, Kimura."

"Perhaps you should heed your own advice, Mr. Dawlish," Takeshi said coldly.

"I thought you were going to attack them!" Kian exclaimed after the Aurors left. "Do you really know any combative magic? I thought Healers had to take an oath to do no harm or something like that."

"I'm not a Healer, I'm a mediwizard," Takeshi replied. "And oath or no oath, I will not hesitate to do what is necessary to defend myself or my patients." He did not elaborate on what he would have done if the Aurors had called his bluff, but instead contacted Sirius Black, who as Head of Werewolf Support, had the Aurors banned from entering the clinic unless they could obtain a warrant.

So Dawlish and Williamson settled for watching the clinic from the street, sometimes discreetly, taking notes on who was coming and going, and at other times they lurked outside the clinic in a very obvious manner, intimidating any potential clients. Most of the werewolves started using the Floo to come to the clinic, to avoid having to pass by the Aurors.

Meanwhile, the elemental watching Amos had little to report. In fact, the elemental complained to Branwen that Amos led a very boring life. He followed the same routine every day: he had breakfast with his wife, then kissed her goodbye and went to work, then returned in the evening and had dinner with his wife. The only thing out of the ordinary was that one night Amos used the Floo to visit Ian Williamson, and the elemental was unable to follow, being repelled by wards similar to the ones protecting the Ministry of Magic.

"Most Aurors ward their homes as a precaution," Branwen said when she reported back to Lukas, Snape, and Lupin. "It doesn't necessarily mean that he has something to hide, but..."

"But I find it interesting that my uncle and this Auror are having private meetings," Lukas said.

"I could picture the two of them conspiring together," Snape said thoughtfully, tracing his lips with one finger. "Even as a boy, Williamson was the type who liked bending the rules--and breaking them, if he thought he could get away with it. Typical Gryffindor." He scowled at Lupin, who smiled at him. "And from what I've heard, he hasn't really changed all that much." He turned to Branwen and said, "You said before that Amos wasn't the type to get his hands dirty. If they were behind that false werewolf attack, Williamson was probably the one who actually carried it out."

"Are they such close friends that he would take such a risk just to help Amos?" Lukas asked. "If he got caught, he could lose his job, not to mention be sent to Azkaban."

"Williamson's an arrogant git," Snape said. "He won't believe that he could be caught. And he isn't fond of werewolves, but you're right, I can't picture him risking his career just to help out a friend. If he's doing this, there's something else in it for him."

*** 

The following night, Williamson staged another "werewolf" attack. He worked alone, since Amos was getting cold feet, and wasn't much good with the dogs anyway. Amos was a nice fellow, but he didn't have the courage it took to do an Auror's work, Williamson thought to himself condescendingly. It took a special kind of person to become an Auror, which was why the requirements were so stringent.

Well, it didn't really matter, Williamson told himself. He could manage perfectly well on his own. He went to the apartment where he kept the dogs, then very carefully transfigured them to resemble werewolves. He gave one of the "wolves" blond fur, and made the other one brown. Then he added streaks of gray to the brown--a subtle touch that required a good degree of skill and control, but it was worth the effort. Williamson stood back and admired the dogs for a moment, feeling extremely pleased with his artistry. Now the second "wolf" could pass for Remus Lupin or Ash Randolf; Williamson didn't particularly care which of the two werewolves would be blamed. He despised that gutter rat Randolf for posing as a hero in the Daily Prophet, but it would also be sweet revenge to be able to arrest Snape's lover. Well, with enough time, perhaps he could ensnare both of them.

He Apparated himself and the dogs to a dark London alley, and his target approached soon afterwards. For his second attack, Williamson had chosen the head of the Baddock family for several reasons. First, the Baddocks were a prominent Slytherin family that made no secret of their disdain for non-humans and the Muggle-born. Second, although there was a nominal alliance between the Snapes and the Baddocks, since Elaine Baddock was Selima Snape's friend and the Baddock children were Slytherins, it was likely that an attack on Mr. Baddock would cause strife between the two families, especially if Snape's lover was a suspect in the attack. And finally, Baddock was a convenient target, because he was a creature of habit. 

Once every month, always on the same day and at the exact same time, Baddock paid a visit to a discreet house of pleasure. And most importantly, he always left at the same time and took the same route home, which made it easy for Williamson to lay in wait for him. The longer Williamson lingered in one area with his pet "wolves," the greater the risk of being discovered and exposed. But since he knew almost to the second what time Baddock would appear, Williamson could make a quick hit-and-run attack and be gone long before any of his fellow Aurors reached the crime scene.

Right on time, Mr. Baddock appeared, whistling cheerfully to himself as he walked down the street. (He never took the Floo directly to or from the brothel, for fear of his wife being able to trace back his whereabouts.) Williamson cast an Imperius Curse and commanded the dogs to attack Baddock. When Baddock's screams started to draw attention from the nearby homes and businesses, Williamson quickly called back the dogs and Disapparated. The dogs hadn't had time to inflict fatal damage on Baddock, which was part of the plan. He wasn't a murderer, after all; he rationalized to himself that no permanent harm was being done to the victims of the "werewolf" attacks, and besides, it was a necessary sacrifice in order to expose Snape and his allies. And of course there was also the fact that Williamson needed living victims who would be able to testify that they had been attacked by werewolves.

Back at his hideout, Williamson dispelled the enchantment on the dogs, restoring them to their normal appearance, cast a quick cleaning spell to get rid of the blood on their muzzles and paws, then patted them and rewarded them each with a thick steak for a job well done. Then he quickly returned home to await the call that would summon him to investigate the very attack that he had just instigated.

He and Dawlish rushed Baddock to St. Mungo's; Williamson was glad that Takeshi Kimura was not working that night. Arrogant little brat; well, they'd see who would have the last laugh after Williamson locked up all Kimura's pet werewolves. Smethwyck, though, gave Williamson a suspicious look as he conceded that Baddock's wounds were consistent with a werewolf attack, but noted that the patient didn't seem to be showing any signs of infection.

"Is it possible for a person to be attacked and yet not be turned?" Dawlish asked.

"Not that I know of," Smethwyck replied, frowning. "Unless the werewolf is stopped before it draws blood, which almost never happens. But once the werewolf tears through the victim's skin with its teeth or claws, the victim is always turned, or dies of his wounds if they are too severe."

"I don't want to become a werewolf!" Baddock wailed. 

"You show no signs of infection, Mr. Baddock," Smethwyck said. "Perhaps in the dark, you mistook two feral dogs for wolves?"

"They were wolves!" Baddock shouted hysterically. "Great big brutes with long fangs and sharp claws!"

Smethwyck's assistant, a Trainee Healer named Augustus Pye, said almost eagerly, "Perhaps we're dealing with a new strain of lycanthropy!" He sounded excited about the prospect of having a new disease to study, and Baddock gave him an affronted look.

"I don't think so," Smethwyck said. "I think it is far more likely that someone is using normal dogs or wolves to attack people, for some reason--perhaps to generate fear and hatred of werewolves?"

"An interesting theory," Dawlish said coolly, "but why don't you stick to healing the patients and leave the investigation up to us? For now, I want you to monitor Mr. Baddock and Mr. Pritchard until after the full moon passes, just to be sure that they weren't turned."

The Healer reluctantly nodded, and the two Aurors left, Williamson smiling very smugly.

*** 

The Aurors paid another visit to Hogwarts, and questioned Lukas and Lupin again, much more aggressively this time. But Lukas told them with a spiteful smile that he had been having tea with Dumbledore and McGonagall at the time, and both Professors backed him up. "Unless you're questioning my word," McGonagall said coldly.

She and Dawlish eyed each other with equal hostility. "I think your loyalties might be misplaced," the Auror said disdainfully, "but I do not think that you would lie about this." He said nothing to the Headmaster, but the look in his eyes said plainly that he thought Dumbledore would have no trouble stretching the truth.

Lupin said quietly, "Severus and I were in the Slytherin common room all night. I was playing cards with several of the students; you can check with them if you like."

"You think you're so clever, Lupin," Williamson sneered. "But let's see how eager the Slytherins are to protect you once they realize that your kind are hunting down their parents."

"I have faith in my students," Lupin said in a level voice, with no sign of fear. "They know me, and they know Lukas, and they know that we would never do anything to hurt them. They've learned not to judge people on appearances; it's a pity that you haven't learned to do the same."

"Well, you may have charmed the children, but it's their parents who wield political power in the wizarding world," Williamson snarled. "See that you don't forget that lesson, Professor!"

The Aurors left in a huff, and went to question Ash and the other werewolves at the London townhouse, but Lukas sent Morrigan to keep them at bay. Even so, Dawlish and Williamson threatened to haul Ash in for questioning, but then Sirius and Branwen arrived.

"Things have changed around here, in case you haven't noticed," Sirius said coldly. "I know that the Aurors are no longer allowed to arrest people without evidence or lock them up without a trial. If you think that no one will care what you do to these werewolves because they have no money and aren't from pureblood families, you're wrong. They are under my protection, as Head of Werewolf Support Services, and as head of the Black family."

Williamson scowled; even though the Black "family" consisted solely of Sirius right now (Branwen didn't count, because she was keeping the Blackmore name), he still wielded considerable power, not just because of his wealth and his name, but because he was the godfather of Harry Potter and a friend of Arthur Weasley. 

To the Aurors' surprise, Branwen said, "Mr. Randolf is not responsible for tonight's attack; he never left the house this evening. Nor did any of the other werewolves who reside here."

"How do you know that?" Williamson demanded.

"Because my elementals are watching this house and its occupants," Branwen said, and the air elementals swarmed around her as the Aurors gaped in shock. They were invisible to normal human sight, but they made their presence known by tugging playfully at Branwen's hair and causing her robes to billow out. "With the werewolves' knowledge and consent, of course," Branwen added calmly. 

"So you are relying on the word of invisible creatures," Dawlish said sarcastically. "And we are supposed to rely on your word in turn."

"How can we trust you?" Williamson demanded. "Your family has a long history of practicing the Dark Arts!"

Branwen gave him a contemptuous look. "I was hunting down Dark Wizards when you were still in diapers, boy." Williamson's face turned bright red, and Sirius and Ash snickered. Even Dawlish almost cracked a smile before quickly setting a stern expression back on his face. "I was an Auror myself once, and I challenge anyone to say that I did not fight as hard as any other Auror or Order member during the war. The Death Eaters killed my parents and tried to kill me; do you really think that I would ally myself with Dark Wizards or Dark Creatures after that?"

"I fought alongside her," Sirius said hotly. "She risked her life countless times to keep idiots like you safe! In fact, she very nearly was killed..."

Williamson opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Dawlish spoke first, a thoughtful look on his face. "Mad-Eye Moody trusts you," he said to Branwen. 

"Mad-Eye is crazy," Williamson protested.

"Yes, that's true," Dawlish agreed. "But he tends to be crazy in a paranoid way, seeing Dark Wizards behind every corner. And yet, he trusts you, Blackmore, despite your family's reputation. And the Aurors who worked with you during the first war all say that you fought bravely, even the ones who don't like you. So I am inclined to believe that you are not in league with murderous werewolves or whatever remains of the Death Eaters. But I do believe that some of the people that you call friends may be deceiving you."

"Your vote of confidence is touching," Branwen said coolly. "But I still trust my judgment over yours."

"So be it," Dawlish said. "I will accept the werewolves' alibi for now. But I will be watching them closely, and I will show no mercy to anyone involved in these attacks, even if they gave aid to the culprits unwittingly."

"I'll keep that in mind," Branwen said with a touch of sarcasm that Dawlish seemed to overlook. He merely nodded curtly and left. Williamson followed, looking sulky.

"Thank you," Ash said gratefully. "I think that you probably just saved my hide there."

Morrigan added her thanks as well. "It's a good thing that you came along; the other werewolves don't have the same protection that Lukas does--they do not live in a nearly impenetrable castle, and they have no ties to important pureblood families. The Aurors were nearly on the verge of taking Mr. Randolf in for questioning over my objections, and I couldn't have physically tried to stop them without risking arrest myself. I'm sure that I could have gotten the Minister to order his release, but that would take time, and I don't put it past the Aurors to use coercion to try and force a confession out of Mr. Randolf in the meantime."

"But now we've played our trump card," Branwen sighed. "I had been hoping to keep the elementals' presence a secret a little longer. Still, they served their purpose, if they were able to provide an alibi and prevent a false arrest."

Morrigan left, promising to consult with the Minister of Magic and see about getting a protective order to prevent the Aurors from abusing their authority. Sirius and Branwen went to Hogwarts to report back to the others.

"Those cowards!" Lukas raged. "They couldn't get to me, so now they're going after my pack!"

"Don't worry," Sirius tried to reassure him. "Arthur won't let anything happen to them."

"I wouldn't count too heavily on Weasley's help if I were you, Black," Snape warned.

"What are you talking about, Snape?" Sirius demanded indignantly. "I know that you don't like Arthur, but you can't deny that he's been a friend to the werewolves--"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Black!" Snape snapped. "What I mean is that if these attacks continue, Weasley will be in danger of losing his job, and then he will hardly be in a position to help the werewolves! Oh, don't look so shocked, Black. My father was ousted from his job when he made the wrong enemies, and even the Minister of Magic is not immune to power plays. People have accepted Weasley's liberal policies only because he is a hero of the war, but soon his opponents will start saying that his equal rights bill has turned werewolves loose on the street and put the populace in danger. I think that very soon he will be too busy fighting to keep his own position to have much time or effort left to spare on the werewolves' behalf."

"And if a new Minister is chosen..." Lupin said, turning pale.

"If we're lucky, it will be someone fairly moderate, like Amelia Bones," Snape said. "And if we're not, we could have another self-serving idiot like Fudge or worse, a fanatic determined to push an anti-werewolf agenda...say, like Dolores Umbridge. The Ministry could rescind the equal rights bill and restore the old anti-werewolf legislation, perhaps even go a step further and have all the werewolves rounded up and incarcerated."

"I would rather die than be caged," Lukas whispered.

"There's even a possibility that your uncle could become Minister if Arthur Weasley is deposed," Snape continued. "Amos Diggory hasn't done anything particularly exceptional in his career, but he is one of the most senior Department Heads left after the Death Eaters were purged from the Ministry. And his son's death at the hands of the Dark Lord might garner him a sympathy vote."

"You think that Amos arranged these attacks so that he could become Minister of Magic?!" Lukas exclaimed, looking horrified and outraged.

"No," Snape replied calmly. "I think that he arranged these attacks to discredit you and prevent you from taking the title from him. The possibility of becoming Minister is probably just a nice bonus for him."

"This is all a worst-case scenario, though," Sirius argued. "Arthur hasn't been deposed yet."

"And hopefully he won't be," Dumbledore said. "But Severus is right; we must be prepared for the worst."

"And the worst is more than merely losing the trial," Lukas said grimly. "Amos may or may not have killed my father. And while he may have felt some slight familial affection for Cynric, he has none for me. I don't think that he would hesitate to kill me if he thought he could get away with it. He wouldn't consider it murder; he would consider it putting down a dangerous beast."

"He allowed you to live and settled for merely exiling you when you were a child," Snape agreed. "And you returned to haunt him. He won't make the same mistake twice."

"I'm not afraid of risking my own life," Lukas said softly. "But my pack..."

"We must discover who is behind the attacks before things reach the point where Arthur is replaced," Branwen said firmly. "Or rather, since we already know, or at least suspect, who is behind them, we must find a way to prove it."

"But in the meantime, if the worst should happen, tell your werewolves to go to the Sakura," Snape told Lukas. "The Kimuras can send them through the Portkey, and Professor Kamiyama will shelter them until it is safe for them to return."

"Won't that also put the Kimuras in danger, if the Aurors discover that they helped us?" Lukas objected. 

Snape gave him an impatient look. "You should have realized by now that they're not just simple restauranteurs, and that the Portkey isn't used just to facilitate tourism or cultural exchanges. Dumbledore and Kamiyama conspired to have the restaurant and the Portkey established in order to help foster an alliance between Britain and Japan, in preparation for the Dark Lord's return. The Kimuras took the job of running the restaurant knowing that their lives could be in danger if the Death Eaters discovered the truth. For that matter, they took a risk simply by backing the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program when the Death Eaters were at large and hostility against non-humans was running high."

"But...but...they brought their children with them!" Lukas cried, looking shocked. "Takeshi, and his brother too, before he went back to Japan. It's one thing to risk their own lives, but the lives of their children?"

Snape shrugged. "Well, the danger was minimal at the time, since Voldemort had just been defeated, and the Kimuras were taking on an assignment that was expected to last many years. They probably didn't want to be parted from their children for that long. And I don't claim to be an expert on their culture, but some of the old Japanese wizarding clans still seem to have a sort of samurai mentality, where the children are expected to assume the responsibilities and risks of their clan at a young age. Haruko never talks much about her family, but Kamiyama mentioned once that she comes from a very old and noble clan."

"Takeshi doesn't seem to resent them for it," Lupin said, although he was a little disturbed as well. "And he's certainly developed into a very mature and responsible young man."

"Most of the Order members did not send their children out of the country, although they knew that their families might become targets for the Death Eaters," Snape pointed out. "And if you could, would you foster the children of your pack with human families, to spare them from the poverty and prejudice and risk of vigilante attacks that their parents suffer?"

"No," Lukas conceded. "Maybe in some ways they would be better off if we did, but I take your point. A pack, or a family, belongs together. Very well, I will tell my pack to follow your advice, Severus. Although I'm not sure what they would do in a foreign land; none of them but Ash can speak even a few words of Japanese, and even then, his vocabulary is limited to video game terminology." Lukas smiled wryly. "I doubt that would be of much practical use in everyday life."

"Hopefully, it would only be temporary," Snape said. "And besides, it's better than being killed or imprisoned. And it is, as Black said, only a worst-case scenario. I agree that it would be much better to expose the real culprits than to send your pack into exile. We need to watch Amos, and we need to watch Dawlish and Williamson as well. I don't trust those two any farther than I can throw them, and the Aurors have a history of bending the rules to capture their prey."

"I'll try to have the elementals watch them," Branwen said. "But as you have seen, their usefulness is limited by their inability to bypass certain protective wards."

"I'll ask Kingsley and Tonks to keep an eye on their colleagues," Dumbledore said. "And perhaps I will speak to Frank and Alice Longbottom as well."

"Attacking innocent people in order to frame Lukas and his pack seems a bit extreme, even for the Aurors," Lupin said, looking troubled.

"I have to agree with Snape this time, Moony," Sirius said reluctantly. "Some of those Aurors believe that they're above the law. Attacking innocent people is extreme, but neither of the victims died--they could convince themselves that the ends justify the means."

"And Baddock is a former Slytherin who toadied up to Lucius Malfoy, even if he never joined the Death Eaters, so the Aurors might not view him as an 'innocent' victim," Snape said sourly. "This might even be a way to kill two birds with one stone, to punish a Death Eater sympathizer and frame the werewolves at the same time. I doubt that they would have felt much remorse if Baddock had died, but they probably needed him to survive so that he could describe the 'werewolves' that attacked him--lucky for Baddock. And don't forget, Lupin, that they aren't just trying to frame Diggory and his pack. You were also on their suspect list tonight." The Potions Master's black eyes gleamed with cold fury, and he said in a low, dangerously quiet voice, "I will not forget that."

Lupin knew from experience that Severus was at his angriest not when he was shouting, but when his voice dropped almost to a whisper, soft and yet heavy with menace, as if he was turning his anger inwards, focusing all his energy on coming up with a way to revenge himself on the object of his wrath. And Severus--like most of his ancestors, from what Lupin had read in the Snape family histories--could carry a grudge for a very, very long time. He still hated James Potter after more than twenty years, even after James's death. And Severus was doubly dangerous when he was protecting not just himself, but someone that he loved. Lupin thought to himself that Amos Diggory and the Aurors--if they were truly behind the fake werewolf attacks--had made a major mistake when they chose to make an enemy of Severus Snape.

*** 

Dumbledore granted the Baddock children permission to leave school and visit their father in the hospital the next day. Snape and Lupin were waiting in the common room with the other Slytherins when Miriam and Malcolm returned, looking very distraught. Miriam immediately threw herself into Lupin's arms, sobbing, "Mummy and Daddy and Grandma blame you and Master Diggory for the attack! They say that they're going to have you fired and arrested!"

"We tried to tell them that you would never do such a thing, but they wouldn't listen," Malcolm said, close to tears himself, but struggled to hold them back, because Slytherin boys weren't supposed to cry.

Lupin wrapped one arm around Miriam and gently patted Malcolm's shoulder with his free hand. "Don't worry," he said soothingly. "The Aurors already came and questioned us. Master Diggory and I both have alibis, so they won't be able to arrest us."

"The Aurors told Daddy that they can't prove it yet, but that they will, and they'll lock up all the werewolves," Miriam said, still crying.

"We told them how you and Master Diggory are good teachers," Malcolm said, "and how you protected the Slytherins during the final battle. But Dad got mad and said that you brainwashed us. I'm really sorry, Professor."

"It's not your fault, Malcolm," Lupin said gently. "Thank you for defending me to your parents."

"For all the good it did," Malcolm said glumly.

"Do you honestly think that I would just let those idiot Aurors take Lupin away, Baddock?" Snape asked scornfully.

Rather than being offended, Malcolm perked up a bit. The Potions Master was a formidable mage, after all, a former Death Eater skilled in the Dark Arts. Of course he would be more than capable of defending Professor Lupin. "N-no, sir," he said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"We're taking steps to protect ourselves and find the real perpetrators of the attacks," Lupin said. "I can't give you all the details, but rest assured that we're not just sitting back waiting to be arrested. Master Diggory and I have many friends who believe in us and are trying to help us."

"We believe in you, too, Professor!" Miriam said, and the other Slytherins echoed her words loudly--all except for one. 

Lupin's gaze drifted over to Aric, who scowled at him and said gruffly, "I think you're a softhearted, meddling, annoying git, but I don't think that you're a killer. If your worst enemy tried to attack you, you'd probably just ask them to have a cup of tea with you and try to get them to tell you all about their problems." Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the common room.

"He's always such a jerk," Malcolm said, but Lupin just smiled fondly.

"No, Malcolm, that was Aric's way of saying that he believes in me, too," Lupin said, then grinned at Snape. "You have to learn to read between the lines when dealing with ill-tempered Slytherins."

"Dietrich was right about one thing, Lupin," Snape said, glowering at his lover. "You are an annoying git."

"I love you, too," Lupin said and kissed him on the cheek as the Potions Master spluttered in outrage, and the students laughed, their worries eased for the moment.

*** 

Ravenclaw and Slytherin had their rematch game, and Ravenclaw lost, much to Stewart Ackerley's disgust, although it wasn't really a surprise, since Slytherin had been heavily favored to win. The R.A. didn't try to cast any hexes at this match, since the chance of being caught was too great; the teachers had increased security and were especially vigilant at the match. Stewart chafed a little at the restrictions, but it comforted him to know that his father's Auror friends shared his suspicions and were working to expose Snape and the Slytherins for what they really were.

Ian Williamson attended the match, and Stewart spoke to him in private afterwards, asking whether the Aurors had made any progress.

"I know what they are," Williamson sighed, "but I need to find proof of it. The Slytherins are a sly lot, and the new Minister won't allow me to arrest them without strong evidence. Arthur Weasley means well, of course, but he's a little too trusting."

"So they're going to get away with it?" Stewart asked, feeling angry and disappointed.

"I didn't say that," Williamson said with a smile. "What we need to do is lay a trap for them."

"And how are we going to do that?" Stewart asked eagerly. The Auror had said "we"--which implied that he was including Stewart in on his plans, which the young Ravenclaw found very flattering. It was his ambition to become an Auror himself, of course.

"I need you to get something for me from the Hogwarts library," Williamson whispered in a conspiratorial tone, and named two books.

"But those are Dark Magic books!" a startled Stewart exclaimed. "They'll be in the restricted section of the library!"

Williamson gave Stewart an amulet, a flat gold disc carved with magical runes strung on a gold chain. "This will allow you to bypass the wards and alarms," the Auror said. "But it won't turn you invisible, so you'll have to be careful not to let Madam Pince spot you. If you're caught, I won't be able to help you. In fact, I'll have to disavow any knowledge of your activities."

"But you're an Auror," Stewart said, feeling puzzled. "Can't you just ask for the books?"

Williamson shook his head. "No, because Dumbledore is fond of his reformed pet Death Eater, and he won't help me if he thinks I'm trying to cause trouble for Snape. Besides, this needs to be done secretly, so as not to warn Snape and the Slytherins."

"Oh, of course," Stewart said, inwardly scolding himself for not seeing the obvious. If Williamson was baiting a trap, of course he wouldn't want to give the target any warning!

"So will you help me, Stewart?" Williamson asked.

"Of course, sir," Stewart replied, feeling both nervous and excited.

"Good lad!" Williamson said warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. "You have the makings of a fine Auror; I'm sure your dad would be proud of you."

Stewart smiled, filled with a warm glow of pride. "Thank you, sir. But may I ask what you need the books for?"

Williamson smiled and winked at him. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Stewart. At least, not just yet. But I promise that you will be helping me to expose Snape for the snake he is."

"Then I'll do it," Stewart said firmly. "You can count on me."

But despite his bold words, Stewart did not try to steal the books right away, because he was a little nervous about being caught. He was determined to become an Auror like his father when he graduated, and being caught stealing Dark Magic books would definitely be a black mark on his record that might prevent him from realizing his dreams. It was strange; he had been more excited than worried when carrying out all the R.A.'s other plans, but none of those plans had required him to sneak past Madam Pince, who watched over the library like a hawk. On the other hand, he wanted to help Williamson arrest Snape, so he needed to get those books, but he also needed to be careful and wait for the right moment.

Two days later, he still had not stolen the books. There always seemed to be someone around whenever he went near the restricted section--if not Madam Pince, then another student. He was brooding about it over breakfast when an owl dropped off a letter for Isabelle at the Hufflepuff table. She looked at the envelope, and seemed to recognize the sender or the return address, because she smiled. But when she opened the letter and started to read it, she suddenly burst into tears and jumped up and ran out of the room.

Stewart ran over to the Hufflepuff table and demanded, "What happened? What did the letter say that upset her so much?"

"I don't know," Susan Bones said, looking worried. "She didn't say anything, just started crying. I saw the return address on the envelope; it was from someone at Beauxbatons." Stewart looked down at the table, hoping to get a clue from the letter, but both the letter and envelope were gone; Isabelle must have taken them with her. "Maybe I should go to talk to her," Susan said.

"No, I'll go," Stewart said quickly, and hurried after Isabelle before Susan could object. He found her weeping in the classroom that the R.A. used for their meetings. "Isabelle?" he asked hesitantly. "What's wrong? Was there bad news in that letter?"

"Oh, Stewart," she said, looking startled. She wiped the tears from her face and said, not very convincingly, "It's nothing. I'm just being silly. I feel embarrassed now for making such a fuss about it."

"It's not silly to cry when you're sad," Stewart said quietly, handing her a handkerchief. "I...I cried a lot after my dad died."

Isabelle wiped her face and smiled at him a little more sincerely. "Thank you, Stewart."

"Maybe you'd feel better if you talked about whatever's bothering you?" Stewart suggested. When she hesitated, he added, "Or if it's something you'd rather talk to another girl about, maybe Susan--"

"No," Isabelle said, quietly but firmly. "I don't want to talk about it. It's...personal. It's just something I have to deal with on my own. But I'm all right, Stewart; don't worry about me."

But Stewart was worried. Even if she wouldn't confide in him, he still wanted to find a way to cheer her up, or at least distract her from whatever was bothering her. So he told her how Williamson had asked him to steal the Dark Magic books from the library, although the Auror had warned him not to talk about it with anyone else. Stewart felt a little guilty about breaking his promise, but he rationalized that Isabelle was trustworthy and would never betray them.

And he felt gratified when Isabelle's face lit up, her eyes shining with excitement. "That's wonderful, Stewart!" she exclaimed. "We must do whatever we can to help your Auror friend!"

"I'll do it today!" Stewart said, suddenly filled with determination, and resolved to get the books today no matter what. He wouldn't dither around like a coward any longer!

"Can I do anything to help you?" Isabelle asked.

"Oh no," Stewart said hastily. "I mean, I'm sure I can manage on my own. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble too, if anything went wrong."

"Haven't we been working together all along?" Isabelle asked, with just a touch of reproach in her voice. "If you get caught, you won't be able to get the books to Mr. Williamson. I'll distract Madam Pince, so that you can get into the restricted section."

Stewart had to admit she had a point. Isabelle was the one who had formed the R.A., after all, so she had a right to be involved if she wanted. Besides, he doubted that he could stop her even if he wanted to, so he agreed, a little reluctantly, to let her help him.

It worked like a charm. Madam Pince actually liked Isabelle, because she was quiet and studious and respectful, and always returned her library books on time and in pristine condition. So when Isabelle asked for some help finding an obscure Herbology text, the librarian was happy to oblige. Conveniently, the Herbology section was located on the opposite side of the library, and for once, there were no other students lingering near the restricted section, so Stewart was easily able to slip in and grab the books and slip out again. He forced himself to walk, not run, out of the library to avoid suspicion, trying to keep up a calm demeanor. Then he headed straight to the Owlery to send the books to Williamson.

*** 

Aric received a message to report to the Headmaster's office in the middle of Potions class one afternoon. Snape dismissed him curtly, his face as sour as ever, and Aric couldn't tell whether he knew what the message was about or not. He entered the office with a bit of trepidation, wondering what he'd done to get into trouble this time. But Dumbledore merely looked worried, not stern or angry, and Aric felt a sudden wrench of fear in his heart that had nothing to do with being worried about getting detention or even being expelled.

Dumbledore spoke in a very gentle voice--another bad sign--and confirmed Aric's fears. "Your parents sent me a message that your grandfather is at St. Mungo's, and they asked me to send you there as soon as possible."

"What happened?" Aric cried. "Is he all right?"

"I don't have all the details, Aric," Dumbledore replied, still in that gentle voice. "The message said only that he collapsed at home, and was rushed to the hospital. I'm sure you'll be able to get more details from the Healers. You may take the Floo directly to St. Mungo's. Please convey my sympathy to your family, and let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

Aric nodded, barely listening to the old wizard's words, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped through the Headmaster's fireplace into the St. Mungo's reception room. The receptionist directed him to the proper ward, and he found his family gathered inside a private room around his grandfather's bed. Aric's mother and grandmother sat beside the bed, weeping, while his father paced around the room nervously.

"Ah, good, you're here, Aric," Karl said, sounding relieved. "Father has been asking for you."

Aric stepped forward, saying, "How are you feeling, Grandfather?" Roderick tried to smile at him, but it came out rather lopsided; only the right half of his mouth curved upwards, while the left remained still. Roderick had always seemed hale and hearty, and quite capable of literally throwing Aric out of the house, as he had threatened during the Easter break, so it was a shock to see him lying in the hospital bed, looking ashen and frail. "What happened?" Aric whispered.

"He collapsed at lunch," Aric's grandmother wept. "One minute he was fine; the next he just keeled over face first into his plate!"

"The Healers say that he had a stroke," Karl said quietly. 

"But...he'll be all right, won't he?" Aric asked--or rather, practically begged, as if his father had the power to make Roderick be all right, which Aric knew was rather silly of him. But he just couldn't help himself.

"I'm not dead yet, boy," Roderick said, his voice slightly slurred, as only the right half of his mouth was working. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"I'm sorry, Grandfather," Aric said contritely, and Roderick weakly gestured with his right hand, motioning for Aric to come closer. Alison vacated her seat so that Aric could take it, and Aric sat beside the bed and clasped his grandfather's hand; he felt it tremble a little, and clasped it more tightly.

"Looks like Karl might become Lord a little sooner than I expected," Roderick said, with that lopsided smile.

"Don't say that, Grandfather!" Aric protested. "I'm sure that the Healers--"

"Which means that you might become heir sooner than expected also," Roderick continued, ignoring the interruption.

"But Grandfather--"

"Boy, will you shut up and let me finish?" Roderick scolded in a voice that, although testy, was barely above a whisper, as if speaking was an enormous strain. Aric instantly fell silent, blinking back the tears that were stinging his eyes. "I hope to be around awhile longer, but I want to ensure the future of the Dietrich family...just in case." Roderick nodded at Karl, who handed a roll of parchment to Aric.

"What is this?" Aric asked in confusion.

"A betrothal contract between the Dietrich and Tierney families," Karl replied.

"But...but...the Tierneys are in France!" Aric stammered. "I thought the negotiations were on hold!"

"We've been carrying on the negotiations by mail," Karl said. "A much slower process, to be sure, but Edward is eager to make this alliance, and we were able to reach an agreement. We were going to wait until you graduated to formalize the betrothal, but..."

"But I may not have that much time left," Roderick finished. "Will you grant an old man's last wish, Aric?"

"Stop talking like you're going to die!" Aric shouted, on the brink of hysteria.

"I'm being a realist," Roderick said. "Of course I hope to live to see your wedding, but if the worst happens...I at least want to die knowing that the future of the clan has been ensured. Promise me, Aric, that you will seal our alliance with the Tierneys and restore the Dietrich family to its former glory."

Aric turned a tearful gaze upon his father, who bent down and whispered into his ear, "The Healers nearly lost him when he first arrived. Things have been very touch and go. I know this is a great burden that we are placing on your shoulders, son, but we need you to assume your responsibilities as heir."

"Please, Aric," Roderick whispered. "Sign the contract."

Aric felt trapped, like a fox surrounded by hounds or a rat backed into a corner by a cat. "Give me a quill," he said in a hollow voice. There was no quill or ink in the hospital room, but somehow Aric was not surprised when his father managed to produce a fountain pen from his pocket. 

Aric unrolled the sheet of parchment and signed his name at the bottom. His hand was shaking so hard that the signature was a near illegible scrawl marred by blots of ink where he had been unable to hold the pen steady, but it was done. He was now legally bound to marry Miranda Tierney. He closed his eyes for a moment, and silently said goodbye to Takeshi. The idea of leaving his family to live with the mediwizard had been a foolish dream; he could see that now. But Merlin, it hurt so much to give up that dream. Now there was nothing left to him but duty.

He no longer tried to hide his tears; his family would think that they were for his grandfather, not for the lover he would never have. Aric stood and bowed to Roderick. "I swear that I will uphold the honor of the Dietrich family and fulfill my duties as heir, Grandfather."

"Thank you, Aric," Roderick whispered with a smile. "I will rest easy knowing that."

A nurse opened the door and said kindly but firmly, "Excuse me, but Mr. Dietrich should get some rest now. You can visit him again a little later."

Karl picked up the contract, and carefully rolled it up and slipped it into one of the pockets on his robe before leaving the room. Once they were out in the hall, he told Aric, "Why don't you go back to school, son? We'll call you when we know more about your grandfather's condition. There's nothing you can do for him right now, anyway."

_Nothing but sign my life away,_ Aric thought despairingly. He nodded and gave in without even a token protest. He should probably remain by his grandfather's side in case "the worst" (as Roderick termed it) did happen, but right now he didn't want to be anywhere near his family, who had no idea of what they had just asked him to give up.

He was about to leave when he suddenly realized that one member of his family was missing. "Where's Erika?" he asked. "Didn't you tell her what happened to Grandfather?"

"We sent word to her, of course," Karl said. "But as she isn't able to Apparate that far, and the Floo system isn't linked to Germany, it will take some time for her to get to England. She'll be here as soon as she can."

So Aric left St. Mungo's, but he didn't go back to school right away. Instead, he stopped at a liquor store first, because he intended to get blinding drunk tonight, and he didn't give a damn if Snape caught him and gave him detention until graduation day.

*** 

Erika arrived at St. Mungo's about an hour after Aric left. The receptionist recognized the family resemblance without having to ask her name, and directed her to the proper ward; Erika looked much like her brother (and her father and late uncle), with the black hair, brown eyes, and good looks that were characteristic of the Dietrich clan. The features which looked so handsome on her brother, though, were perhaps a little too strong for feminine prettiness, although she was still an attractive woman. Or perhaps it was merely that she projected an air of intimidation that most people did not expect from a young pureblood woman, and it made them uneasy, especially the pureblood men. Today, though, she looked more anxious and concerned than intimidating as she hurried to her grandfather's room.

"How is he?" Erika immediately asked the Healer who was tending to Roderick, not bothering to greet her family first.

"He had a stroke, which is a serious matter," the Healer, a stern-looking woman, replied. "However, your family got him to the hospital in time. There is some paralysis on the left side of his body, but fortunately, it should be only temporary. It will take him several weeks to heal completely, but if he takes the potions I've prescribed, he should make a full recovery. He'll need to remain in the hospital for about a week. If his recovery continues at the expected rate, he can go home after that, providing that he takes his medication and follows my instructions regarding his diet and exercise routine." The Healer smiled at Roderick, the stern expression on her face softening a little. "You should be well in time to see your grandson's wedding, Mr. Dietrich."

"What?!" exclaimed Erika.

"Oh, didn't you know?" the Healer asked cheerfully. "Your grandfather told me that your brother has just gotten engaged. Please offer him my congratulations. Well, I need to continue my rounds. Please call for a nurse if you need anything."

The Healer left, and Erika crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her grandfather. "All right, what have you done? What's this about Aric getting engaged?"

"Well, you know that we've been negotiating a betrothal with the Tierney family," Alison said.

"Yes, and I know that Aric isn't happy about it," Erika retorted. 

"It's only natural for a young man to get cold feet at the prospect of a wedding, but Aric is second in line to inherit the title, and he will do what is best for the family," Karl said firmly.

"What did you do?" Erika demanded of Roderick. "Don't tell me that you told him you were dying and that it was your last wish for him to marry that spoiled brat Miranda!" Her parents and grandmother smiled at her sheepishly, and her grandfather grinned slyly and unrepentantly. "You did," she said, sounding disgusted. "And Aric was stupid enough to fall for it. What's going to happen when he finds out that you're not really dying?"

"I'm sure he will be overjoyed to learn that I've made a miraculous recovery," Roderick replied. "Poor boy, he was so concerned about me that he was practically in tears."

"I love you, Grandfather," Erika said, glaring down at Roderick. "But you are a wicked old man."

"You're a clever girl," Roderick said, not sounding in the least offended. "I could never have tricked you as easily as your brother. It's a pity that you weren't born a boy."

"There's nothing about my gender that renders me incapable of leading a family!" Erika snapped; it was a sore point with her, that she was denied the heirship simply because she was female. "The Blackmores and the Donners have always been ruled by women, and they're two of the most wealthy and powerful families in Britain!"

"It's tradition--" Karl started to say.

"I've heard that speech a million times, Father," Erika said irritably. "Save it for Aric; he's the heir, after all." She turned back to her grandfather. "You're obviously not on death's door, if you have enough energy to be scheming like this, so I'm going back to Germany. Unlike you, I have work to tend to."

"Protecting my family is my life's work," Roderick replied.

"Wait, dear," Alison said nervously. "You're not going to say anything to your brother about this, are you?"

"It would serve you right if I did and he broke the contract," Erika retorted, and her family looked alarmed. "But he's always been a dutiful pureblood heir, and he'll consider himself honor-bound to go through with it, even if he was tricked into signing it. So for Aric's sake, not yours, I won't tell him that his family conspired to deceive him and make a fool of him."

"We weren't trying to make a fool of him," Karl argued. "We only wanted what is best for him and this family."

"You wanted to serve your own ambition," Erika said coldly. "You might not have been wrong to ask him to make this alliance, but you were wrong to trick him into it. If he is to be Lord someday, he will have to learn to make decisions on his own--without being manipulated." Her parents looked abashed, but not her grandfather. "Did you even have a stroke at all?" Erika asked him. "Or did you fake it in order to get Aric to sign the betrothal contract?"

"I really did have a stroke, Erika," Roderick said. "Maybe I could have deceived Aric about it, but I could never have fooled the Healers. But I saw no reason not to take advantage of the situation. Life gave me lemons, and I made lemonade, you might say."

Erika shook her head. "You really are a wicked old man," she said, her voice filled with disgust and a hint of grudging admiration. Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

"Thank you, dear," Roderick said to the closed door.

*** 

Theodore lingered behind after class was over and asked Snape, "Father, what happened? Why was Aric called away? Did something happen to his family?"

"I don't know," Snape replied. "I'll talk to the Headmaster and find out."

Later, in the Potions Master's quarters, Snape reported back to Theodore, and also to Lupin and Dylan, who had by now heard the news about Aric being called away from school. Lupin was worried about Aric, while Dylan was merely concerned about Theodore.

"It seems that Roderick Dietrich, Aric's grandfather, is seriously ill and was rushed to St. Mungo's earlier this afternoon," Snape said. 

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Lupin asked anxiously. "Will he be all right?"

"The initial message that the Headmaster received said only that he collapsed and was admitted to St. Mungo's," Snape replied. "However, Dumbledore has made a few discreet inquiries since then, and it seems that Roderick suffered a stroke. His condition is serious, but he is expected to recover eventually."

"Thank goodness," Lupin sighed. He hesitated, then asked Theodore in a gentle voice, "Roderick is your grandfather, too, Theo. Do you want to go visit him?"

Theodore shook his head. "No, I'm glad that he'll be all right, but I have no wish to see him, and I doubt that he wants to see me. He never seemed to like me or my mother very much, even before my father killed Rafe." Theodore looked a little wistful as he said, "I don't know why. He always loved Uncle Rafe and Uncle Karl, and Aric and Erika. I know that some pureblood families don't value their daughters very highly, except to barter off in marriage alliances. So I thought maybe it was because Mother was a daughter, not a son, but he loves Erika. Of course, Erika used to behave more like a boy than a girl when we were small; Grandfather used to be amused when she got into fistfights with Aric."

Snape didn't know Roderick very well, but he suspected that it probably had something to do with the fact that most Slytherins admired and respected strength. And of course Marta had been anything but strong--she had always been meek and submissive, even before she married Thaddeus. But Snape doubted knowing that would make Theodore feel any better, so he said nothing.

Lupin, of course, knew exactly what to say. "I don't understand why your grandfather acts the way he does, Theo," he said gently. "But you do have a family that loves you very much. I am so glad that you are my son now, Theo. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you and Dylan in it."

Theodore smiled warmly at Lupin. "Thank you, Remus," he said softly. "I'm glad that you and Father and Dylan are my family, too. I wouldn't trade that for anything, not even if the Dietriches wanted me back."

Dylan smiled, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders, and Lupin, sentimental Gryffindor that he was, hugged them both. Snape leaned back in his chair, able to relax now that everything was right with his family. He personally couldn't have cared less whether Roderick Dietrich dropped dead or not, but since his death might have caused Theodore distress, he supposed it was just as well that the Dietrich Lord had survived.

"I wish my parents had lived long enough to meet you," Lupin said, looking a little wistful himself now. "I'm sure that they would have loved having grandchildren."

Theodore and Dylan exchanged a slightly skeptical look. "I'm not sure that we would be exactly what they had in mind when they thought of grandchildren," Dylan said with a wry smile.

"They would have loved you," Lupin assured him, then smiled at Snape. "And Severus, too."

Snape wasn't so sure about the latter, but he kept his doubts to himself. He did silently concede that since the Lupins had wholeheartedly loved their son despite his lycanthropy, they probably would have accepted two adopted grandchildren who were the orphaned sons of Death Eaters. They might, possibly, even have accepted their son's former Death Eater lover. But Snape had always hated sharing Lupin with the Marauders and then Potter junior, so a small, selfish part of him was glad that he didn't have to share Lupin with his family as well. And then he felt a bit guilty for being glad that Lupin's parents were dead. 

Meanwhile, Lupin was saying, "Do you think that we should send flowers?"

"What?" Snape asked, startled out of his morbid train of thought.

"Do you think that we should send flowers to Mr. Dietrich at the hospital?" Lupin repeated patiently.

"Not unless you want to finish Roderick off," Snape said sardonically. "Receiving get-well flowers from his grandson's werewolf teacher might give him a second stroke."

"I didn't think of that," Lupin said sheepishly, and Dylan and Theodore laughed.

"I am sure my mother will send something appropriate, on behalf of the Snape family," Snape said dismissively.

But Lupin was still concerned about Aric, and Theodore seemed to be, too (although Snape wasn't sure why, considering the way that his cousin treated him), so they went to the Slytherin common room to await Aric's return.

Aric walked into the room, looking extremely upset, which puzzled Snape, since the Headmaster said that Roderick was expected to make a full recovery. Perhaps he had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, but in that case, Snape would have expected Aric to remain at the hospital.

"Aric?" Theodore asked. "Is everything all--"

"Don't. Say. Anything," Aric said, pausing between each word for emphasis. His dark eyes were glittering with both sorrow and anger. "Just don't, Theo." That last sentence sounded more like a plea than a demand, which perhaps was why Theodore looked more concerned than angry as he watched his cousin hurry into the dorm without waiting for a reply.

"I don't understand," Theodore said to Snape. "I thought you said that Grand--that Aric's grandfather would be all right."

"That's what Dumbledore told me," Snape said. "Let me check with St. Mungo's to see if anything's changed." But when he contacted the hospital, he learned that Roderick's condition was serious but stable, the same as before. 

"Do you think that we should talk to him?" Lupin asked.

Snape shook his head. "I think you'd better give him some time to calm down first. I doubt that you'll get anything out of him right now." And Lupin, having seen how defensive Aric had just been, reluctantly agreed.

*** 

Later that evening, Aric's family sent word to him that Roderick's condition had improved slightly, and that the Healers said he was "stable," whatever that meant. Aric supposed he should feel happy, but he just felt numb and hollow, as if he would never feel happy again. He couldn't even summon up enough energy to feel angry or resentful that he had been trapped in this betrothal. He was sure that Dumbledore would have given him permission to go back to the hospital to visit his grandfather, but Aric did not ask. He didn't want to see his grandfather or anyone else in his family.

All he wanted to do was to get drunk and try to blot out his misery, which he set about doing as soon as everyone in Slytherin had turned in for the night. He guzzled Firewhiskey straight from the bottle, and it took effect quickly, as he had eaten almost nothing at dinner, so there was no food in his stomach to slow the effects of the alcohol. He wept as he drank, thinking of how much he was going to miss Takeshi--not just as a hypothetical lover, but as a friend. He would miss working on potions with him, miss being able to confide in him. He would miss Takeshi's smile and the way his glasses always slid down his nose. He would even miss the way that the mediwizard would gently--and sometimes not so gently--scold him for behaving like a bigoted pureblood.

By the time the bottle of Firewhiskey was half-empty, Aric was filled with an overwhelming compulsion to see Takeshi one last time. Surely that wasn't too much to ask, to at least be able to say goodbye to him? To have one last memory of his love, to sustain him through his marriage to Miranda.

He staggered out of his room, still clutching the bottle of Firewhiskey in one hand. He needed to get to the clinic, and for that, he needed a working Floo. In his inebriated state, it didn't occur to him that Takeshi might not be working at the clinic this late. He had come to associate Takeshi with the clinic and vice versa, so when he decided to seek out the mediwizard, he automatically thought of the clinic. 

Aric stumbled not-very-quietly down the hall, awakening Draco, who still slept very lightly because he was often troubled by dreams about either his father or his mother and the werewolf. So he jumped out of bed and peered out the door. "Dietrich!" he hissed. "What are you doing?"

For once, Aric was glad to see Malfoy, because he wasn't sure which fireplaces in the castle were connected to the Floo Network, but Malfoy probably knew. "Hi, Draco," he said, giving him a friendly grin. "Wanna drink?"

Draco felt his stomach roil in revulsion at the thought. His last hangover had thoroughly squelched the notion that getting drunk was "fun," and he had no desire to repeat the experience a second time. Dietrich must be a slow learner.

"Are you crazy, Dietrich?" he asked. "What's the matter, two weeks detention wasn't enough for you? If you want to get killed by Snape, be my guest, but don't get me involved." 

Draco was about to close the door and go back to bed when Aric pleaded, "Please, Malfoy, I need your help."

Draco suddenly noticed that Aric's face was streaked with tears. That made him curious enough to cautiously ask, "What kind of help?"

"I need to find a working Floo. Tonight. Right now."

"Forget it," Draco said firmly, and started to swing the door shut, but Aric flung his body against the door, preventing it from closing.

"Please!" Aric begged, his voice rising. "It's really important!"

"Shh!" Draco hissed. "Do you want to wake up the entire dorm? Oh, dammit, come inside." He pulled Aric into the room, shut the door, and cast a silence spell for good measure. He was still reluctant to get involved, but he had no choice, since Dietrich was going to get them both in trouble if he started shouting in the hall. It was better to calm him down and hear him out, and if that didn't work, Draco intended to hit him with a Stupefy spell.

Draco listened while Aric poured out a tearful and somewhat incoherent story about being forced into a marriage alliance when he was in love with someone else. He babbled something about being forced to sign the contract because it was his grandfather's dying wish, only his grandfather maybe wasn't dying after all. Draco found it a little confusing, but he managed to get the gist of it.

"So there is a girl you like, after all!" Draco said. "You weren't just upset about having to go work at the Ministry instead of becoming a mediwizard. Who is it, someone from Slytherin? Yvonne, maybe?"

Aric hesitated. As drunk as he was, the part of him that was a well-trained pureblood heir retained enough presence of mind not to reveal the name or gender of his beloved. And especially not to a member of the Malfoy family, who were famous for blackmailing, bribing, and manipulating their peers to get ahead. "It's not a girl from this school," he hedged, evasively but truthfully.

"A girl you left behind at Durmstrang, then?" Draco asked sympathetically, and Aric just made a noncommittal grunting noise, allowing Draco to think his assumption was correct. 

"I need to see...this person...one last time," Aric said. "To say goodbye, and to tell them about the betrothal. And for that I need a Floo."

"Does the Floo Network even connect to Durmstrang?" Draco asked doubtfully.

"My...friend...is no longer a student, and is, um, currently residing in London," Aric said, again sticking to the bare facts without revealing the entire truth. 

"An older woman, huh?" Draco asked with a smirk. "I'm impressed, Dietrich."

"Please help me, Malfoy," Aric begged, struggling to think of a bribe that might appeal to Draco. "You can have the rest of the Firewhiskey," he offered, holding out the bottle.

Draco shuddered. "No thanks!"

"Well, what do you want, then? Money?"

The Malfoys were disgraced, but they were still wealthy. "Nothing so crude as that, Dietrich," Draco said disdainfully. "Let us just say that you will owe me a favor." It would not be a bad thing, to have an ally who worked at the Ministry of Magic. "Maybe someday when you are working at the Ministry, you can put in a good word for me."

"I'll only be an apprentice..." Aric said uncertainly.

"I don't mean right away, Dietrich," Draco said patiently. "I'm thinking long-term, after you are established in your career, and after the memory of my family's disgrace has faded from people's minds." Draco felt quite proud of himself for thinking so far ahead; his father always used to scold him for acting without thinking. He wistfully wondered for a moment if Lucius would have been proud of him, then quickly banished that thought from his mind.

"All right," Aric promised recklessly, although he knew it was dangerous to commit to such an open-ended favor. But right now, he didn't really care; all he wanted was to see Takeshi.

"Only the fireplaces in the teachers' quarters and offices are connected to the Floo Network," Draco explained. 

"Great, so I need to break into a teacher's office," Aric said glumly.

"Obviously you don't want to try to break into Snape's office," Draco said. "It's protected by some nasty warding spells. And Lupin's a soft touch, but he's an expert in Defensive magic; his office is likely to be well-protected, too. Hmm, let me think...Trelawney's office would probably be the best bet. She's the careless type, and from what I've seen, she has almost no real magical ability at all." Draco snorted contemptuously. "She probably just relies on her 'mystical powers' to protect her, and you've seen how accurate a Seer she is."

"But she lives in the North Tower next to her classroom and office, doesn't she?" Aric protested. "What if she hears me breaking in?"

"She picked up a habit of hitting the sherry bottle every night, ever since she got temporarily sacked by Umbridge a couple years ago," Draco assured him. "She's probably passed out cold by now."

"All right," Aric said, filled with a sense of determination. "I'll do it!"

"Don't forget your promise," Draco said.

"I know, I know," Aric said. "I owe you one. I won't forget." Aric headed off to the North Tower alone, since Draco didn't want to risk getting caught, but that was fine with Aric. It wasn't as if he wanted Draco tagging along with him when he went to see Takeshi. Somehow he managed to make it out of the dungeon and into the Tower without being seen. He heard loud snoring as he passed by Trelawney's quarters, so it seemed that Draco's information was correct. The office door was locked, but it was child's play to open with a simple spell; there were no magical wards on it at all. He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from a jar on the mantle and said, "The charity clinic in Diagon Alley."

*** 

Takeshi had spent the entire day at the clinic, and it had been a very long and trying day. The clinic was beginning to receive threatening letters in the mail accusing them of "sheltering murderous beasts," and there were similar letters to the editor printed in the Daily Prophet. This morning someone had tried to throw a rock through the front window of the clinic, but the protective wards set on the building by Dumbledore caused it to bounce off harmlessly. A few hours later, someone--Takeshi wasn't sure whether or not it was the same person who had thrown the rock--hurled rotten eggs at the window, which did no damage but left behind a sticky, smelly mess. The warding spells apparently did not consider the eggs a threat and so had not repelled them, but even if they had, the eggs still would have left a mess on the sidewalk in front of the clinic, anyway.

Takeshi reported both incidents to Tonks and Kingsley, but there was little they could do, since the culprit or culprits had fled before Takeshi could get a look at them. To make matters worse, people were beginning to harass the werewolves at their places of employment. Katherine, who worked as a seamstress at Madam Malkin's, had just been fired from her job. Malkin had been apologetic about it, because Katherine was talented and a hard worker, but she said she could not afford to offend her clientele, and people had been threatening to take their business elsewhere when they learned that there was a werewolf working at the shop. Katherine was quiet, kept a low profile, and did not seek out attention, so not many of the customers had noticed her previously, let alone been aware that she was a werewolf, and Takeshi wondered if Dawlish or Williamson had deliberately leaked out the information.

So far, she was the only werewolf to be fired, but Takeshi was sure that she wouldn't be the last. After one customer had spat on Rachel and called her a beast while she was working at the Leaky Cauldron, she was transferred to the night shift, when there were fewer people around and fewer chances of further altercations. Working the night shift meant that Rachel wasn't able to be home to tuck Max into bed at night, and had to leave him with Katherine, who had plenty of time to baby-sit now that she was out of work. Max loved Katherine and her children, but he missed his mother's goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. Rachel was worried about Max, but she was even more worried about what would happen if she lost her job entirely.

Many of the businesses who made donations to the clinic had ceased their contributions because of the unfavorable publicity, at a time when those donations would be needed more than ever. A further indication that the werewolves had fallen from grace was the fact that Cassidy Sinclair's toy wolves were no longer selling well, and were either gathering dust on the shelves of the toy stores, or had been pulled off the shelves altogether. The wolf good-luck charms that had been so popular had also vanished from store shelves, even from the art gallery that was owned by the Snapes. It was bad for business to be seen as supporting werewolves at a time when werewolf attacks were making headlines in the paper. 

And Sirius reported that many of the other Department Heads were making noises about cutting the budget for Werewolf Support. Naturally, Arthur would oppose this, but Arthur's popularity was waning as swiftly as the werewolves'; in fact, many people blamed him for the attacks, because his policies had led to the werewolves being "set free" to "run rampant" on the streets (or so one letter to the Daily Prophet had stated). And of course there was no more talk of Lukas being awarded the Order of Merlin for saving Sally Peasegood. A little surprisingly, though, Arnold Peasegood remained staunch in his defense of the werewolves in general and Lukas in particular. He firmly stated that he did not believe that a man who would risk his life to save a little girl would attack innocent people. Unfortunately, not many of his peers listened to him.

Lukas's trial had been put on hold until Elias Pritchard could make a full recovery (in other words, until after the full moon so that they could be sure he hadn't been turned into a werewolf). Takeshi wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, Lukas would probably lose if a vote was called for now, but unless they could discover the true perpetrator of the crimes very soon, the hostility against the werewolves would only increase. At this rate, he would be in danger of losing his freedom as well as the estate.

Snape had consulted with Kamiyama and the Kimuras, and Takeshi's parents had agreed to use the Portkey to help the werewolves escape if the very worst should happen, but that was no real solution. It would be extremely difficult for the British werewolves to make a new life in a foreign country where they couldn't even speak the language, and if the Ministry discovered what they had done, the Kimuras and the staff of the Sakura would probably have to flee, too. 

Takeshi had been toying with the idea of returning to Japan, at least for a few months and possibly permanently, in order to escape his memories of Aric. He had hesitated mainly because he had not wanted to abandon his werewolf friends and leave the clinic short-staffed. But now, faced with the prospect of being forced to leave, he found that he did not really want to leave his adopted homeland, and besides, he knew deep down that those painful memories would follow him no matter how far he fled.

Takeshi sighed. The full moon was coming up in a few days, and he had been busy distributing Wolfsbane Potion, comforting distraught werewolves, and dealing with the never-ending paperwork required to keep the clinic running, not to mention cleaning up the rotten eggs. He really should have gone home hours ago, but he was reluctant to return home to an empty flat. And lately he had been having more disturbing and tantalizing dreams about a black wolf who turned into Aric (his face no longer hidden) and made love to him. He both dreaded and yearned for those dreams, so his solution was to work himself into such a state of exhaustion that he would drop into bed and immediately fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he finished the last piece of paperwork, and set it to one side in a neat stack, to be owled to the Ministry tomorrow morning. He rose from his seat behind the desk, yawned and stretched, and was heading towards the fireplace to take the Floo home when it suddenly burst into green flames and Aric stumbled into the room.

"Aric?!" Takeshi exclaimed, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes again, wondering if he had been working hard enough to start hallucinating. Had his longing for Aric conjured up a vision of the boy? But as Aric moved closer, Takeshi caught a whiff of his breath, and he doubted that a hallucination would smell so strongly of Firewhiskey. 

"'Keshi," Aric said in a slurred voice, reaching out towards him; the mediwizard nimbly avoided his grasp.

"You're drunk!" Takeshi said accusingly. "How did you get here?"

Aric blinked, looking confused by a question that had such an obvious answer. "Through the Floo," he replied.

"I know that!" Takeshi snapped. "I meant, what are you doing out of school? I'm assuming that Professor Snape didn't give you permission to leave, which means that you must have broken into a teacher's office to use the Floo."

"My grandfather's dying," Aric blurted out. "Or he was dying. They say he's stable now. Stable but serious, whatever the hell that means."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Aric," Takeshi said, in a much more gentle and sympathetic voice. "I didn't know."

Aric blinked again, looking puzzled. "You didn't hear about it at St. Mungo's?"

"No, it's my day off," Takeshi replied. "I was at the clinic all day. What happened?"

"He had a stroke," Aric said, and suddenly began to weep.

"I'm so sorry, Aric," Takeshi repeated, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "But if they're saying that he's stable, he should be out of danger. I can try to find out more from the Healers at St. Mungo's, if you like."

"I thought he was dying," Aric said, still weeping and not sounding at all reassured. "He looked like he was dying, and my mum and grandmother were crying. He begged me to sign the betrothal contract, said he needed me to ensure the future of our family if anything happened to him."

Takeshi was hit by a sudden feeling of despair and anger, as strong and painful as a physical blow; he gasped for breath as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. He thought he had been prepared to lose Aric, to give him up to his family, but some small part of him must have been secretly holding out for a miracle, and now the full force of reality hit him, and his pain was redoubled as his last shred of hope was taken from him. 

And beneath the despair, he felt anger towards Aric's family for manipulating their son and using his love for them like a weapon against him. Takeshi had grown up in a loving family, and it made him sick to think that someone could use their own child this way, that the head of the Dietrich family could continue calculating and scheming even while supposedly lying on his deathbed. He wondered just how serious Roderick Dietrich's illness was, if he really had been dying, or if he had just let Aric think that.

Meanwhile, Aric was sobbing, "I'm so sorry, Takeshi, but I couldn't say no. I didn't want to do it, but I had to, for my family's sake. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me!"

"It's all right," Takeshi whispered, although his heart was breaking. "There is nothing to forgive; you haven't done anything wrong." Nothing except, perhaps, to be loyal to a family that didn't deserve it. But right or wrong, they were Aric's family, and he loved them. Takeshi wasn't sure if the Dietrich family had deceived Aric, and he wasn't sure that Aric would believe it even if they had. Aric wasn't in any state to hear such a thing right now, anyway, so Takeshi concentrated on trying to comfort his friend.

"I'm sad," Takeshi said gently, "but I'm not angry. I know that you're doing what you think is right. I..." In spite of his good intentions, his voice trembled a little. "I just want you to be happy, Aric." He reached up with one hand to brush the tears from Aric's face.

Aric laid his hand over Takeshi's, holding it in place against his cheek. "I don't think I can be happy without you, 'Keshi," he whispered.

No one else had ever called Takeshi by that particular nickname before, and he found it endearing, but also heartrending at the same time, because he doubted that he would ever get to hear it again after tonight. It was obvious that Aric had come to say farewell to him, and maybe that was just as well, because Takeshi didn't think that he was strong or selfless enough to be able to maintain their friendship after Aric was married. It would be much too painful for both of them.

And since this was probably the last time that they would see each other, Takeshi finally said the words he had left unspoken up until now. "I love you, Aric," he said softly. "No matter where you go, or who you are with, I will always love you. I hope you will find happiness in whatever life you choose."

Aric just stared at him for a moment, tears still running down his face, then suddenly he pulled Takeshi into his arms and kissed him fiercely.

And Takeshi felt the some sense of completeness that he had felt in the first dream he'd had about his black wolf lover, the same sense of joy that told him he had found his mate. He returned the kiss hungrily, overcome by a primal, almost animal-like desire that swept away any protests that the rational part of his mind might have made.

Aric kissed him with such force that it was almost painful, but Takeshi didn't pull away. Instead, he eagerly parted his lips, allowing Aric's tongue to demandingly thrust into his mouth. As their tongues entwined together, Takeshi was dimly aware that Aric's mouth tasted of Firewhiskey, and that reminded him that something was not quite right about this...

But then Aric pushed him up against the desk, and Takeshi felt the edge of the desk digging into the small of his back, and Aric's hips pressing firmly against his own. He was forced to lean back, bracing his hands against the desk to keep from falling backwards. Meanwhile, the lower half of his body was trapped between Aric and the desk, and couldn't help but respond to Aric's obvious arousal. Aric began to grind his hips against Takeshi's in earnest, rubbing their erections together, and Takeshi moaned into Aric's mouth, unable to keep his hips still as they began moving against Aric's. A small but increasingly frantic part of his mind began to clamor that this was wrong, that they should not be doing this, but his body didn't care, and continued writhing against Aric.

His glasses, which were completely useless right now anyway as they were fogged up, began sliding down his nose, and Aric plucked them off his face, carelessly tossed them onto the desk, and began planting kisses all over Takeshi's face. Takeshi shivered with pleasure as he tried to remember why he was fighting with this...

Aric began fumbling with Takeshi's robes and shirt, tugging impatiently at buttons and fastenings. Takeshi continued leaning against the desk, dazed and unresisting until the touch of Aric's hands on his bare skin jolted him into awareness again. And then he remembered it all: Aric showing up at the clinic drunk to confess that he'd signed the betrothal contract.

Takeshi gasped as Aric's hands stroked his chest, brushing against his nipples, and he was sorely tempted to just give in to desire. Wasn't he entitled to at least one night with his mate before he lost him forever?

No. Not like this. Not with Aric too drunk to be fully aware of what he was doing. And not when Aric was legally bound to someone else. He would not, could not share Aric with anyone else. It went against everything that he believed in, everything that he was. He wistfully thought of the fairy tale his mother used to tell him about the Star Lovers, Orihime and Hikoboshi. He had always thought it a sad story, but now he envied those lovers for remaining faithful to each other even though they could only meet once a year. He would give anything to be able to be with his mate, even if it was for only one day out of every year.

"Stop," Takeshi whispered, but Aric did not hear him. "Stop," Takeshi said in a louder voice, but Aric ignored him, kissing him and pushing him back until he lost his balance and fell across the surface of the desk as Aric fell on top of him. That sent a fresh wave of lust surging through his body, and Takeshi knew that he had to end this now, before instinct conquered his resolve and they ended up having sex right on top of the desk.

_Would that really be so bad?_ a little voice whispered in his head. He allowed himself to be tempted for just a moment, long enough for Aric to kiss him deeply, their tongues entwining again.

Then Takeshi forcibly wrenched his mouth away from Aric's and gasped, "No!"

*** 

His brain befuddled by both alcohol and lust, it took a few minutes for Takeshi's protests to register with Aric, and he stared at the mediwizard in confusion. His words said "no," but his body seemed to be saying the opposite. Aric experimentally ground his hips downwards, and Takeshi moaned loudly, his body jerking upwards to press more closely against Aric's.

"N-no, Aric," Takeshi panted, his face flushed. "We can't...we can't do this."

"But I want you and you want me," Aric protested, and tried to kiss him again.

Takeshi placed his hands palm-down on Aric's chest, and at first Aric thought it was meant to be a caress. But then Takeshi chanted something in a language that Aric didn't understand, and he could feel heat forming where the mediwizard was touching him, a faint warmth at first that rapidly grew uncomfortably hot. Aric glanced down and saw that Takeshi's hands were glowing, and his eyes widened in alarm. 

And then he found himself hurled across the room as if he had been hit with a full-strength Expelliarmus spell. He crashed into the shelves that lined the opposite wall and heard the sound of breaking glass. He felt something wet stain his robes, but by the pungent smell, it was Wolfsbane Potion and not his own blood. He was probably going to have a number of interesting bruises on his back by tomorrow, though.

"Takeshi..." he said, feeling hurt and confused.

The mediwizard climbed off the desk, straightening his robes, and he looked angrier than Aric had ever seen him before, even when Aric had been gloating about Theo kissing Blaise at the Yule Ball. "I told myself that I wasn't going to do this," Takeshi said in a low, taut voice. "I told myself that I wouldn't give you an ultimatum, that I wouldn't force you to choose between me and your family, but now you have given me no choice. I love you, Aric, but I will never sleep with you as long as you are engaged or married to someone else."

"But...but I didn't have a choice!" Aric protested.

Takeshi's brown eyes were hard and cold, in a way that Aric had never seen before. "You have a choice, Aric," he said firmly. "I won't blame you if choose not to be disowned by your family, but don't tell me that you have no choice."

"But..." Aric said in a pleading voice, not sure what argument he could make.

Takeshi didn't give him time to come up with one. "I know that many of the purebloods take lovers even after they are married. That was the way it was done in my country once, too. Lords would take wives to seal political alliances, and keep concubines for pleasure, and sometimes, for love. But I will not be your concubine, Aric. I will not be your plaything." Tears filled his eyes, and he shouted, "I will not be your whore!"

"I-I'm not...th-that wasn't what I..." Aric stammered. He swallowed hard, staring at his friend's anguished face. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I could never ask that of you. I...I only came to say goodbye tonight. I didn't mean for this to happen. I...just got carried away. I'm sorry."

"Please go, Aric," Takeshi said, tears streaming down his face. "And if you're determined to go through with the marriage, I think it would be better if you didn't come back."

"I'm sorry," Aric said once more, then fled through the fireplace. He somehow managed to make his way back to his room without being discovered, although he was stumbling through the halls without trying very hard to be quiet, his eyes blurred with tears. He felt so ashamed of himself for hurting Takeshi that way; he should never have gone to the clinic. He wondered if more alcohol would help obliviate his pain, but then realized that he had left the bottle of Firewhiskey in Malfoy's room. And Malfoy was probably asleep and would be pissed off if Aric woke him up now. Besides, it was the Firewhiskey that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

So he crawled into bed and cried himself to sleep. His chest still stung a little where Takeshi had touched him, but it was more uncomfortable than painful, sort of like having a mild sunburn. He certainly deserved far worse for what he had done to his dearest friend. It was only as he was finally drifting off into slumber that it occurred to him to wonder how Takeshi had managed to cast such a powerful spell without a wand. But he slipped into unconsciousness before he could ponder that question for long.

*** 

Williamson was very pleased when he received the Dark Magic books from Stewart. He wished that he could have gotten Stewart to steal some hair or clothing from Snape to further implicate him, but that would probably be pushing his luck. Sneaking into the restricted section of the library was one thing, but while Stewart was a clever lad, he was no match for a paranoid Death Eater, and Williamson's scheme would be ruined if Snape caught on to what he was doing. They would have to rely on circumstantial evidence for now, but it shouldn't be hard to build up a convincing case against the Potions Master, with his past history and sinister manner.

"Merlin's Beard!" Amos exclaimed, leafing through the books with an expression of combined horror and fascination on his face. "What on earth do you intend to do with these?"

"Make people think that Snape is practicing Dark Magic in secret, of course," Williamson replied. "Now there are a few ingredients we'll need..." He took one of the books and opened it to a particular page. "Boomslang skin--expensive, but not difficult to obtain. Aconite and henbane--readily available, but only a registered potion-brewer or Healer can purchase them, since they're poisonous. And of course getting the werewolf blood will be a bit tricky."

"Where on earth are you going to get werewolf blood?" Amos asked.

Williamson grinned. "You'd probably like me to take it from your nephew, I'm sure, but it wouldn't be wise to physically attack the werewolves right now. We want them to remain suspects, not victims."

"Then where are you going to get it from?" Amos demanded impatiently.

"Where else does one go to obtain substances of dubious legality?" Williamson asked in a logical tone of voice. "Knockturn Alley, of course."

So Williamson ventured into Knockturn Alley the next day, in disguise, of course. He wore a hooded cloak with the hood pulled low over his face, and he also used an Illusion spell in case one of the other Aurors traced the ingredients back to this shop. He gave himself a big nose and long, greasy black hair. Now if anyone should question the shopkeeper, he would describe someone who resembled Snape.

Williamson entered the apothecary shop, a much seedier looking establishment than Slug & Jiggers. However, it also carried a number of substances that were not available at Slug & Jiggers--at least, not without written permission from the Ministry and a number of inconvenient questions being asked.

"Werewolf blood, eh?" the shopkeeper said when Williamson made his request. "You're in luck; I've still a got few vials left. Our supply has been dwindling since the equal rights bill was passed. Now that the werewolves can get work, not many of them are desperate enough to sell their bodily fluids. Of course, that might be changing soon, if the rumors I've been hearing are true. Word is that the Ministry might be revoking the equal rights bill and restoring the anti-werewolf legislation."

Williamson silently gloated, but aloud he said mildly, "Perhaps. But for now, give me all the werewolf blood you have left. Also some aconite, boomslang skin, and henbane."

"I have some werewolf fur and claw tips, too," the shopkeeper said.

"Excellent!" Williamson said. A few minutes later, he left the shop, both he and the apothecary feeling very satisfied. Williamson because he had gotten the ingredients he needed, and the shopkeeper because Williamson had not haggled over the cost as most people did, and had immediately paid the apothecary's exorbitant asking price. The Auror had not bothered, since he was paying with Amos's money. Since Amos was too cowardly to enter Knockturn Alley himself, he had given Williamson a bag of Galleons and entrusted the task to him.

*** 

Not long after Williamson's trip to Knockturn Alley, the townsfolk of Hogsmeade began seeing strange lights and hearing strange noises from the Shrieking Shack late at night. Most of them still didn't know the true story behind the Shrieking Shack, so they began whispering that perhaps the ghosts had returned, although things had been quiet there for the past few years. Then, on the night of the full moon, they heard howling and loud crashes--the sound of wood splintering and glass breaking, as if someone were wrecking the place. Eventually, the Aurors were called in to investigate.

*** 

The following day, Snape was called out of his last afternoon class and summoned to the Headmaster's office, along with Lukas and Lupin. "What now?" Snape grumbled to his two colleagues. "Another so-called werewolf attack?"

"That seems likely, considering that the three of us have been summoned," Lukas said grimly.

This time they found not just Dawlish and Williamson, but also Tonks, Kingsley, and Frank and Alice Longbottom waiting for them at Dumbledore's office. Dawlish looked stern, Williamson looked smug, and the others merely looked concerned. Morrigan and, of course, Dumbledore were also there.

"All right," Snape said, feigning an air of boredom. "Let's get this over with. What time do we need to provide an alibi for?"

"Where were you last night, Snape?" Dawlish asked sharply.

"I was in my quarters all night," Snape replied promptly.

"And can anyone vouch for that?" Dawlish asked.

"It was the full moon, so Lupin was with me," Snape said. "And our sons stayed with us from after dinner until about ten-thirty that night."

"How convenient, Snape," Williamson sneered. 

Frank gave him a disapproving look. "Family members are not considered unbiased witnesses, Professor Snape," he said quietly. "Can anyone else vouch for you?"

"No," Snape snapped. "What exactly is it that I'm supposed to have done?"

Dawlish did not reply directly, but instead looked thoughtful and said, "Actually, it makes sense that you weren't there last night. You had to stay with Lupin, so you left your creation alone in the Shrieking Shack, but something went wrong, and it went out of control, causing enough of a disturbance for the villagers to contact the Ministry."

"What sort of nonsense are you blathering about, Dawlish?" Snape snarled. "I haven't set foot in the Shrieking Shack for four years."

"Oh, I think it hasn't been quite that long, Snape," Dawlish retorted. "We found these there." He threw two books down on Dumbledore's desk. One was a book of Dark Spells, and the other was a book of Dark Potions. "Along with a set with Potions equipment and some very interesting ingredients, including aconite, henbane, boomslang skin, and werewolf blood, fur, and claws. And also this." He picked up a large sack from the floor, opened it and turned it upside-down, and the corpse of a large canine tumbled out onto the floor.

Lupin let out a startled yelp and jumped back, Lukas's eyes widened in shock, and Snape exclaimed, "Merlin's Beard!" The corpse seemed to be a cross between a dog and a wolf, but it looked oddly misshapen, as if it had been frozen in the act of being transfigured: the beast had patches of smooth gray fur and patches of wiry brown fur; and one ear was short and pointed like a wolf's, while the other was floppy, like a hound's. Its muzzle looked deformed, with teeth too big for its mouth, and its claws were long and curved and stained with blood--its own, judging by the bloody scratches on its side and legs. Its eyes remained open in death, permanently frozen in an expression of madness, and there was bloody froth still staining its jaws.

"Good Lord," Snape whispered, looking from the corpse to the Dark Potions book and back again. He went pale and a hint of recognition sparked in his black eyes.

Dawlish took that as a sign of guilt. "So you recognize your handiwork, Snape?" he asked triumphantly.

Snape shook his head, too shaken to be angry. "No, but I recognize that book, and I recognize what someone was trying to accomplish."

"S-Severus?" Lupin asked hesitantly. "What happened to that poor creature? Was someone experimenting on it with Dark Magic?"

"Someone is trying to create werewolves," Snape and Dawlish said simultaneously.

"WHAT?!" Lupin and Lukas shouted.

"'Someone'?" Williamson asked pointedly. "Don't you mean yourself?"

"What are you talking about, Severus?" Lupin asked anxiously.

"That book contains a formula that will supposedly induce lycanthropy artificially," Snape explained, ignoring Williamson. "However, that text is antiquated and there are a number of errors in it. The so-called Werewolf Potion doesn't work. The ingredients are so poisonous that they always end up killing the subject. If they're lowered to a non-lethal dosage, the potion is too weak to be effective."

"And how do you know that?" Dawlish asked suspiciously.

"Because Voldemort possessed a copy of this book," Snape replied. It was still difficult for him to speak his former Master's name out loud, but it was worth it to see Dawlish flinch in reflexive fear. "He considered using the potion to create an army of werewolf slaves, but he abandoned that plan when he discovered that the potion was useless."

"But you're a Potions Master, Snape," Dawlish said in a quiet, accusing voice. "One of the most preeminent Potions Masters in the world, possibly THE preeminent Potions Master--your creation of the Wolfsbane Potion is considered by your colleagues to be quite an astounding feat."

"You flatter me, Dawlish," Snape said sarcastically.

"An expert in Potions, and an expert on werewolves," Dawlish continued, still in that quiet voice. "Just the person to try to perfect that 'useless' potion, don't you think?"

There was a short, stunned silence before Lupin shouted, "That's ridiculous! Severus would never do such a thing!"

"I agree," Tonks said firmly. "You have no right to accuse Severus this way. He risked his life to protect Harry, to protect us all from Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"When he saw that the Death Eaters were losing the war, he switched sides to save his own skin," Williamson retorted. "I call that self-preservation, not heroism!"

Somewhat to Snape's surprise, Shacklebolt defended him. "No, Snape risked his life to spy on the Death Eaters when it was by no means certain that we would win the war. In fact, he could have handed victory over to You-Know...to Voldemort...simply by doing nothing and letting Harry go to the Ministry alone two years ago. He could have let Harry walk into the Death Eaters' trap and no one on our side would have known the difference, but he didn't. He warned us, thereby saving Harry Potter's life, and our only chance of winning the war."

"Very moving, Kingsley," Dawlish said coolly. "But you are in love with this young lady..." He motioned towards Tonks. "And she is a friend of Snape, and perhaps you have let your emotions cloud your judgment."

"I am proud to call Severus my friend," Tonks said, glaring at Dawlish defiantly. "Much prouder than I am to call myself your colleague." Snape looked chagrined to hear Tonks call him a "friend," and Lupin couldn't help but smile at him despite the seriousness of the situation.

"You've been experimenting on animals," Dawlish accused. "This creature isn't a true werewolf, which is why the victims of the recent attacks haven't been infected. You haven't perfected the formula yet. When you got it right, were you planning to move on from animals to humans? Or have you already experimented on humans, and just hid the bodies better than you hid this one?"

"You still have not presented any proof that Professor Snape is involved in either the attacks or this supposed scheme to develop a Werewolf Potion," Morrigan said firmly.

"We have a Potions Master living a short distance away from the scene of the crime," Dawlish argued. "A Potions Master who is a former Death Eater, might I remind you? And the evidence indicates that someone was conducting experiments with Dark Potions."

"Circumstantial evidence," Morrigan said dismissively. "It will never hold up in court, not against a hero of the war."

"There's more," Williamson said with a malicious smirk. "One of the books, as Snape so helpfully informed us, is a text on Dark Potions. The other is a book of Dark Spells. It contains several spells pertaining to controlling Dark Creatures. He was using one book to create werewolves, and the other to control them."

"I still haven't heard anything connecting Professor Snape to the evidence found in the Shrieking Shack," Morrigan said.

"I'm not finished," Williamson said. He opened the books; they were both stamped "Property of Hogwarts Library" on the front pages. "We spoke to Madam Pince, and she confirms that these two texts are missing from the restricted section. Only someone in the school could have stolen these books, and only teachers have unlimited access to the restricted section. We checked, and no students were given permission to check out these books."

"It is not unheard of for students to sneak into the restricted section, in spite of Madam Pince's vigilance," Snape said in a cold voice.

"But none of the students--and none of the other teachers, for that matter--have the skill necessary to not just brew, but to correct and enhance such a potion," Dawlish said. "No one except for you, Snape."

"There is one more thing," Alice said, exchanging a worried look with Frank. "We made some inquiries. Some of the ingredients used in the potion are illegal, or at least restricted, and none of the legitimate potions shops or apothecaries reported selling them recently. So we checked some of the less legitimate shops, and an apothecary in Knockturn Alley eventually admitted to selling some aconite, boomslang skin, henbane, and werewolf blood, fur, and claws to an individual several days ago. This person wore a hooded cloak to obscure his features, but he did have black hair and a rather...er...prominent nose."

"Actually, he said, 'greasy black hair,'" Williamson added spitefully.

"Severus's hair isn't greasy!" Lupin protested indignantly.

"Not now, Lupin!" Snape said impatiently, then turned to the Longbottoms. "Are your wits still addled? Maybe they let you out of St. Mungo's too early!"

"Severus!" Lupin cried.

"Why in Merlin's name would I go buy werewolf parts in Knockturn Alley when I have a ready supply right here?" Snape continued, pointing at Lupin and tapping his finger on Lupin's chest for emphasis.

"That's what I said!" Tonks said, sounding vindicated.

"Remus is a good man," Frank said. "Maybe you knew that he would refuse to let you use his blood to create a Dark Potion."

"Bloody hell, Longbottom, use what's left of your brain!" Snape spat. "If I wanted, I could have told him I needed it to improve the Wolfsbane Potion, or I could have just took it without his knowledge while he was sleeping! And if I had planned to run around Knockturn Alley buying illegal substances, I would certainly have disguised myself better! For that matter, why would I need to make a potion to create werewolves? I could have just used an Imperius Curse on Lupin to make him bite people!"

"An interesting turn of mind for a supposedly innocent man," Dawlish observed.

"I never claimed to be a lily-white, do-gooding, noble Gryffindor prig," Snape snarled. "But I did not create a Werewolf Potion, and I did not attack Pritchard and Baddock."

"Professor Snape does have a point," Morrigan said. "If he wished to create werewolves to do his bidding, he could have done it with less effort and much less attention drawn to himself, simply by using Professor Lupin."

"But he needs the potion to make his werewolf slaves transform at will," Dawlish said. "After all, what good is an army that you can only use one day out of every month?" 

Everyone else in the room looked startled. "The potion is supposed to allow the werewolf to transform at any time," Snape reluctantly conceded. "More like a true shapeshifter than a person suffering a monthly curse. But as I said, the potion doesn't work."

"But you were trying to make it work, weren't you?" Dawlish accused. "And from what I've seen, you've had limited success! Your experiments transformed long enough to attack Pritchard and Baddock! You know, Snape, maybe I had you wrong, after all--you did want to defeat You-Know-Who. But not to save the wizarding world--you wanted to take his place as Dark Lord!"

"You're insane!" Snape shouted.

"You took the words right out of my mouth, you megalomaniac Death Eater!" Dawlish shouted back.

"Calm down, both of you!" Kingsley shouted.

"Frank, Alice, surely you don't believe that Severus would do such a thing?" Lupin pleaded. "I know that you don't know him well, but you know me. Do you really believe that I could love someone who was capable of such evil?"

"We don't believe that you would knowingly condone such a thing," Alice said carefully. "But you would not be the first person to be deceived by someone they love."

"After all," Frank said, "none of us suspected that Peter Pettigrew had gone over to Voldemort." As Lupin started to protest, Frank added, "I'm not saying that he's guilty. But I'm not completely convinced that he's innocent, either. We have to consider the evidence."

"Then consider this," Dumbledore said. "Severus spied on Voldemort, and convinced his fellow Death Eaters that he was one of them for many years, without ever being discovered. If he were going to commit a crime, do you not think that someone so clever would have covered his tracks better? Someone laid a trail of evidence that led you straight to Severus. I find that very suspicious--and my suspicions don't fall on Severus." The Longbottoms exchanged a startled and thoughtful look. "Besides," Dumbledore said, smiling fondly at Snape, "I have faith in Severus. I don't need any evidence to know that he would never do such a thing."

"It occurs to me," Lukas growled, "that the staff and students are not the only ones who could've entered the library. Many of the parents visit their children on Quidditch match days, and you two--" He glared at Dawlish and Williamson. "--have been hanging around the school a lot recently."

"How dare you!" Williamson cried. "Are you trying to accuse us, you cur?!"

"Why, yes," Lukas replied coolly. "I believe I am."

"I think you ought to come to the Ministry for further questioning, Snape," Dawlish said.

"Not without a warrant!" Morrigan snapped, interposing herself between Snape and the Auror like a guard dog--and looking just as fierce as one. Lukas and Lupin smiled a little, while Snape looked bemused. "You have no direct evidence linking Professor Snape to any crimes, except for two books from the Hogwarts Library, which everyone else in the school has access to. We all know that it is difficult, but not impossible, for students to bypass the alarms in the restricted section."

Dawlish of course had no warrant, and looked furious that Morrigan had called his bluff. "I'll be back with a warrant, never fear!" he retorted, and vanished through the fireplace. Williamson followed after gathering up the evidence (the books and the wolf/dog corpse). The Longbottoms avoided Lupin's gaze as they quietly exited through the fireplace.

Tonks assured Snape, "Don't worry, Severus, we won't let him arrest you," before she and Kingsley left as well.

"I feel so reassured," Snape said sarcastically to the empty fireplace.

Morrigan followed the Aurors, and returned much later with Tonks, both women looking weary and angry. 

"Your expressions don't bode well for me," Snape said sourly.

"I have good news and bad news," Morrigan said.

"Let's hear the good news first," Lupin said. "We could definitely use some."

"Well, the good news is that Severus isn't being arrested," Morrigan said.

"And the bad news?" Snape asked.

Tonks handed a roll of parchment to the Headmaster. "The bad news is that you're restricted to the castle until we can clear this up."

"So I'm under house arrest," Snape said in an icy voice.

"Believe me, Severus, I don't like it any better than you do," Tonks said. "I have firsthand experience with it, after all. And at least you won't have to wear a Squib Collar."

Snape shuddered at the thought of wearing the magical device that cut a wizard off from his magical powers, essentially rendering him into a Muggle.

"We all argued in the Minister's office for hours," Morrigan said wearily. "Arthur Weasley believes in you, of course, Severus, but the rest of the Ministry was practically ready to revolt. The evidence against you, while circumstantial, is very convincing when worded the right way."

"To people who have already decided who is guilty and who is innocent," Lukas said bitterly.

"So a compromise was reached, that no one is happy with," Morrigan finished. 

Dumbledore unrolled the parchment and read it. "It says that Severus is restricted to the castle, and that the fireplaces in his office, classroom, and quarters will be blocked from the Floo Network. And I am most sternly admonished not to let him leave the castle by other means."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Morrigan apologized. "But it was the best I could do. Weasley's position is very tenuous at present."

Snape smiled sardonically. "So Arthur Weasley has developed a sense of political expediency. There may be hope for him yet."

"At least if you're confined to the castle, you can't be blamed for any other attacks that might occur," Lupin said hopefully.

"They will find a way to blame me, and Diggory too, no matter what," Snape said cynically.

"Then we'll have to stop them," Lupin said, trying to sound more certain than he felt.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Tonks said. "I'll keep working to prove your innocence." Then she left.

"I'm sorry," Morrigan apologized again.

Snape shook his head. "No, you've done your best, Morrigan. It is a testament to your skill that Diggory and I aren't sitting in Azkaban right now. You were actually hired to defend Diggory, so I will officially need to retain your services." He managed a faint smile. "At double your normal fee. You've earned it."

Morrigan smiled and inclined her head modestly. "As you wish, Severus. I'll owl the contract to you." 

After Morrigan left, Dumbledore said solemnly, "As you aren't able to Apparate or Disapparate in the castle, and you'll be prevented from using the Floo, I will prepare a Portkey for you, Severus. It will take you to a safe house, to the place I was hiding when Umbridge took over the school."

"Is that really necessary, Albus?" Lupin asked, looking distraught.

"I hope not, Remus," Dumbledore replied. "But I prefer to be safe rather than sorry."

"I suppose this is my punishment for making fun of Black when he was cooped up at Grimmauld Place," Snape grumbled, trying to lighten the mood for Lupin's sake.

Lupin smiled, although it was probably more to reassure Snape than anything else. "At least you don't have to clean the castle, Severus."

"Or put up with a crazy house-elf," Snape said. "If one doesn't count Dobby."

Lupin wrapped his arms around Snape and whispered, "And I promise to make your confinement as pleasant as possible."

"Argh! Not in public, Lupin!" Snape shouted, and Lupin, Lukas, and Dumbledore burst into sincere laughter, and the tension drained from the room, at least for a little while.

*** 

Daphne's and Ron's romance had been slowly but steadily progressing. They had held hands on Valentine's Day, and although the teachers had been supervising the students closely, Ron had managed to find a brief moment alone to steal a kiss from Daphne behind The Three Broomsticks. Since then, they often met for study dates, and Daphne would come to watch Ron at Quidditch practice. Daphne had gradually been losing a little of her shyness, and she no longer seemed to worry about what her housemates might think about her dating a Gryffindor--perhaps because none of them seemed to care. Pansy and Millicent obviously approved; Damien and Dylan were also dating Gryffindors; and everyone else seemed indifferent.

By now everyone in Hogwarts had unofficially acknowledged that they were a couple--including Sprout, because the Herbology teacher no longer allowed them to study together in the greenhouse unsupervised. Ron's grades had improved to the point where he no longer really needed the tutoring sessions, but he still worked with Daphne in the greenhouse afterschool once or twice a week, and Sprout made sure to be somewhere in the near vicinity. She didn't seem to object to their romance, though; in fact, she seemed to approve, because she would often smile at them indulgently, and although she acted as a chaperone, she would sometimes turn her back or leave them alone long enough to steal a few kisses, although not long enough for things to go any further.

But Daphne and Ron, who were both shy and inexperienced, were content to let things progress at a slow pace. While Ron had the desires of any typical teenage boy, he was nervous about taking things to the next level. Partly because Daphne was so shy, and appeared to come from the type of old-fashioned pureblood family where the girls were expected to remain chaste until marriage. (Of course her father had been an illegitimate child, but that only seemed to make the Greengrasses more determined than ever to behave like "proper" purebloods, to erase the stain on their honor.) 

But mostly because Ron was terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing and making a complete fool of himself. Some of his male Quidditch teammates eagerly gave him advice in the locker room with a nudge and a wink, but he suspected that they were more talk than action for the most part. For now, he was willing to settle for kissing and holding hands. Although occasionally he would allow himself to think about what might happen after graduation, which would usually lead to his face turning as red as his hair, and necessitate a cold shower.

As for Daphne, she was very happy. Her parents, who might normally have disapproved of her dating a Gryffindor, were overjoyed that she was dating the son of the Minister of Magic. But Ron's rank didn't matter to her at all; what mattered most to her was that Ron was kind and goodhearted and made her laugh. He made numerous small gestures every day that showed his thoughtfulness: bringing her a piece of candy, or a flower from the greenhouse; carrying her books for her between classes; cracking a joke or eating a Canary Cream to make her laugh.

He also gave her the flower-shaped jeweled brooch that he had found during the Easter egg hunt at Lady Selima's party. She adored it, because she loved flower-motif jewelry, and also because Ron had looked so cute when he had given it to her, red-faced and stammering in his awkward but sincere manner. Maybe that was what she really liked about Ron. He was exactly what he appeared to be, with no hidden agendas or motives--a refreshing attitude for someone used to dealing with Slytherins.

The Slytherin girls oohed and ahed and giggled over the brooch, saying how lucky she was. In a strange way, her romance with Ron seemed to have increased her popularity in Slytherin. She wasn't sure if it was because he was the Minister's son, or if it was simply that having a boyfriend made her seem more like one of them. She liked that feeling--of being an ordinary girl who could giggle and gossip about clothes, jewelry, and boys with her friends. Other Slytherins might dream of becoming powerful and wealthy, of becoming Minister of Magic or the wife of a high-ranking pureblood Lord, but after so many years of living in fear, being ordinary was an incredible luxury to Daphne. That was all she really wanted: for her family to be safe, to have friends to talk to, and to have a boy who liked her--a very kind and generous boy. She didn't need anything else.

But fear began to intrude in Slytherin House once again. The "werewolf" attacks had everyone on edge, because everyone in Slytherin loved Professor Lupin, and they didn't want to see him lose his job--or worse--again. Well, everyone except maybe Aric Dietrich, but even he seemed a little concerned, although he pretended that he wasn't. And they were worried about Master Diggory, too. Most of the Slytherins liked him, including Daphne. She had been scared of him at first, but she had gradually noticed that he toned down his gruffness around her, and tried to be a little more gentle with her than he was with the other students. Certainly he never yelled at her the way he yelled at Draco or Aric or the Gryffindor boys when they misbehaved in class.

Things grew even more tense when Professor Snape was essentially placed under house arrest. The Headmaster tried to keep it quiet, but word quickly leaked out. The Slytherins were outraged by it; an attack on their Head was like an attack on the entire House. The Slytherins were mostly angry, but Daphne and a few of the more farsighted students were frightened as well. If the Aurors were targeting someone as magically and politically powerful as Snape, how long would it be before they came after Slytherins with less wealth and clout? Much of the wizarding world still held a grudge against the Death Eaters, and to most people, "Slytherin" was synonymous with "Death Eater". 

The weekend after the Aurors had placed Snape under house arrest, Slytherin had their match against Hufflepuff, the match that would determine who went to the finals. The mood was a bit somber, because their Head of House could not come to the match to cheer Slytherin on--the terms of the confinement were quite specific, and Snape was not supposed to set foot outside the castle, even if he remained on the school grounds. Lupin attended, wearing the Slytherin robe that the students had given him for Christmas, but although he cheered loudly, they could tell that his heart wasn't really in it. He tried to hide it, but he was obviously concerned about Snape.

The Slytherin team, though, was even more determined to win the game--"For the Professor's sake, and the honor of Slytherin!" Draco shouted as the team took the Pitch, and the Slytherin team and spectators cheered loudly. There were scattered boos from the other sections of the stands.

Daphne watched with her parents from the stands, cheering on the Slytherin team. She looked across the Pitch to the Gryffindor section, and was touched to see Ron actually cheering for Slytherin, although some of his housemates were giving him dirty looks. Slytherin was leading by thirty points when the Snitch flew into view and the two Seekers took off after it. After zooming madly across the Pitch, the Snitch suddenly went into a steep dive, and Draco and Tristan both dove down after it, both with intense looks of determination on their faces, and it was obvious that neither boy was going to back off.

They crashed into each other and hit the ground, landing in a tangled heap of green-and-silver and yellow-and-black robes as the crowd shrieked. And then Draco sat up; his face was bruised and bloody, but he was grinning in triumph as he raised his right hand in the air to reveal that it was holding a struggling Snitch. Tristan, who was equally bruised and bloodied, looked furious and frustrated.

The Slytherins spectators cheered, and the boos from the other sections grew louder; Daphne's parents looked troubled by the sound. "Come," Daphne told her parents, trying to sound cheerful despite her own worry. "I want you to meet Ron. And I saw his parents in the stands, so you'll get a chance to meet the Minister of Magic."

"Just a moment, Daphne," Gareth Greengrass said with a serious expression on his face. "We need to speak to you in private for a moment."

"What is it, Father?" Daphne asked, feeling confused.

But her parents remained silent until the stands emptied out and the rest of the spectators went down to the Pitch to congratulate the team or talk to teachers and friends. Once they were alone, Flora Greengrass, Daphne's mother, said in a hushed voice, "We don't think it's a good idea for you to see the Weasley boy any longer."

"What?!" Daphne exclaimed in dismay. "But why not?"

"Because Arthur Weasley will likely not be Minister for much longer," Gareth said grimly. "And we do not want to be associated with the Weasleys when they fall from grace. Our family has had enough doubt cast upon our honor in the past; we don't need to get entangled in the Weasleys' problems."

Daphne's parents were shocked to see their meek, obedient daughter glare at them and say firmly, "I don't like Ron because he's the Minister's son. I like him because he is kind and generous and loyal. He doesn't care that our family isn't wealthy or powerful, and he doesn't care that our blood might or might not be pure. He's been a friend to me when I needed one, without asking anything in return. So I most certainly will not abandon him at a time when he will be needing his friends more than ever. You can disown me if you want, or you can come along and meet the Weasleys, but either way, I'm not changing my mind." And then she marched out of the stands without a backwards glance, her spine straight and her head held high.

Her parents just stood there with their mouths hanging open, and then slowly turned to look at each other in disbelief. "Is that really our daughter?" Flora asked.

"Do you suppose that somebody could have used a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Daphne?" Gareth asked in a bemused voice.

His wife smiled, a wistful, faraway look in her eyes. "Actually...just now, she reminded me a little of Gabriel."

"Yes," Gareth said softly, thinking of his late son, who had steadfastly adhered to his beliefs and refused to join the Death Eaters, even when it had cost him his life. It made him proud, to see Daphne looking so strong and determined when she used to be a timid little thing who would jump at her own shadow, but on the other hand, Gabriel's bravery had led to his death. He didn't want his daughter to share the same fate.

"Our little girl is growing up, dear," Flora said with a smile, although she looked worried as well. 

"I suppose we'd better hope that Weasley manages to keep his position, after all," Gareth said with a sigh of resignation.

"I do recall that my own parents were not overly thrilled when they discovered that you were courting me, dear," Flora said with a mischievous smile.

"But you were determined to marry me, the boy with no father, whose mother caused a scandal in the wizarding world," Gareth said, smiling back at her as he raised her hand to his lips. "Perhaps our daughter inherited her disobedience from you."

"Perhaps," Flora laughed. "It was your Herbology skills, your special touch with flowers that won me over, you know. You would always bring me the most beautiful bouquets."

"Because I couldn't afford jewels," Gareth said.

"I didn't need jewels," Flora said. "It seemed a much greater miracle to me that you could make such beautiful flowers come to life. Flowers are like living jewels."

Gareth shrugged modestly. "I have a Gift for Herbal magic, but there's really not that much magic involved in growing plants. It's simply a matter of getting the right combination of sunlight, water, and fertilizer."

"And that's a gift in itself," Flora replied. "I wonder what young Mr. Weasley has done to make our little Daphne blossom so?"

Gareth sighed again. "Well, I suppose we had better go meet our daughter's beau and his family."

Young Mr. Weasley, they found, was a polite and respectful boy, although he seemed a little nervous--but no more nervous than any young man meeting his sweetheart's parents for the first time. And he gazed at their daughter with a look of complete and utter adoration, which they found reassuring. 

The Greengrasses began to think that it might be better to give Daphne to Ron, regardless of whether or not his father was Minister, than to some Slytherin lordling who might abuse her or simply be indifferent to her, treating her as nothing more than a broodmare and hostess. With a few exceptions, the men of the Slytherin elite were not known for their gallantry, and if by some miracle one of them did marry Daphne, he would look down on her and expect her to feel lucky that he had deigned to accept her as a bride. Ron, on the other hand, looked as though he thought that _he_ was the lucky one.

Arthur Weasley greeted them with genuine warmth and friendliness, and Molly Weasley gushed over a blushing Daphne, saying what a lovely girl she was, and that they must all have dinner together sometime and get to know each other better. From the gleam in her eyes, she was already planning her son's wedding in her mind; maybe it was because she had so many sons and only one daughter that she was eager to bring another girl into the family.

Molly also had a speculative look in her eyes when she regarded Harry Potter, who seemed to be quite friendly with Ginny Weasley. Perhaps an alliance with the Weasleys might still be wise then, if they were to be someday linked in marriage to the savior of the wizarding world.

But aside from the possible political benefits of a potential marriage alliance, Flora and Gareth found that they actually liked the Weasleys, and they hoped that the rumors about Arthur losing his job would turn out to be false, although at this point, it didn't look very likely.

*** 

Harry's romance with Ginny had not progressed much farther than Ron's and Daphne's had. Their big date at the Yule Ball had been cut short, of course, due to the spiked punch, but he'd finally worked up the courage to hold hands with Ginny on Valentine's Day. After that, Ginny had taken the lead--it had been she who had leaned over and given him a quick kiss as they strolled through Hogsmeade together. And back at school, it was she who would casually reach out and clasp his hand as they walked together through the halls, as if it were no big deal. Harry grinned a little ruefully to himself.

He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised; Ginny was the type who tended to go out and get what she wanted. She had gone out with Michael Corner over her brother's objections in her fourth year, and then she had set her sights on Dean Thomas in her fifth and won him over, at least temporarily, until she had decided that he was too immature and possessive. And of course it had been Ginny who had asked him to the Yule Ball, rather than the other way around. Not that Harry really minded. It was a bit disconcerting, but at least it meant that she liked him, right?

They had kissed several times since then, when they found themselves alone in the library or putting away equipment after a Quidditch practice--kisses that were much more intense and satisfying than their first kiss in Hogsmeade, or Harry's first kiss with Cho. It chagrined him a little, though, to realize that Ginny was obviously much more experienced with kissing than he was, having had two boyfriends while Harry had only briefly dated one girl before.

Things had not really progressed beyond kissing and holding hands, mainly because there were so few opportunities to be alone together; he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about that. Ginny's kisses always left him feeling slightly dizzy and wanting more, but he wasn't quite sure what to do next. Or rather, he knew in theory what was supposed to happen next, from the Quidditch locker room talk and a certain book detailing "the facts of life," which Sirius had slipped him after Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff.

Harry had not realized at first what it was; Sirius had simply handed him a parcel wrapped in brown paper and said, "This is for you, Harry. Maybe it's something you're not ready for yet, but I think it's stuff you'll be needing to know soon." Sirius had grinned and winked at him, then added, "And if you have any questions, feel free to owl me, or contact me through the mirror I gave you, all right?" 

Harry had just smiled and nodded. By the shape of the parcel, he had known it was a book, but he had assumed it was a spell book of some sort, maybe an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts text. But when he had opened it (in the privacy of his dorm room when no one else was around, thank Merlin), his face had turned bright red. Sirius's gift had turned out to be a book on reproduction and sex, complete with very graphic illustrations and instructions for casting birth control spells and brewing birth control potions. 

"Stuff you'll be needing to know soon"--what on earth did Sirius think that he and Ginny were doing together?! And where on earth were they supposed to be doing it, with four or five people to a dorm room, and the teachers patrolling the halls in the evening? He knew that some couples still snuck out to be alone together, but Harry thought he would die of embarrassment if McGonagall, Filch, or worst of all, Snape, should happen to catch him making love to Ginny beneath the Quidditch stands or in an empty classroom. Assuming that Ginny would want to do such a thing in a semi-public place, which was rather doubtful, or that she would want to do such a thing with him, period. 

Still, the book had conjured up some images in his head that were very hard to get rid of, and resulted in a number of very interesting and pleasant but highly embarrassing dreams, and Harry frequently woke up in the middle of the night cursing his godfather.

Sirius had come to Hogwarts again two weeks later, for Gryffindor's match against Ravenclaw, and thrown his arm around Harry and asked with a wink, "So did you like the book I gave you, Harry?" Harry had blushed deeply and glared at his godfather.

"What book did you give him, dear?" Professor Blackmore had asked, and Sirius had grinned wickedly as Harry stared at him horror, silently entreating him not to tell her the title of the book.

"Oh, just a book containing a few spells that I thought Harry might find useful," Sirius had replied casually.

"And did you find them useful, Harry?" Blackmore had asked.

"Er..." Harry had said, still blushing furiously. "I haven't had an opportunity to use them yet, but I'm sure that they'll...uh...come in handy when I do need them."

Blackmore had raised an eyebrow, but all that she had said was, "I see," and then she had let the subject drop, to Harry's great relief.

"I'm going to kill you, Sirius," Harry had whispered to his godfather later.

"I was just making sure that you knew the facts of life," Sirius had said with an innocent smile. "Just doing my fatherly duty, that's all. I suppose we were overdue for a little man-to-man chat."

And then Harry had been torn between wanting to strangle Sirius and wanting to hug him, because that simple phrase "Just doing my fatherly duty" had awoken a warm glow in Harry, reminding him that he had a real family now. Then Sirius had laughed and hugged him, and the last of Harry's irritation had vanished, and he had hugged Sirius back.

It was kind of weird, Harry thought to himself one day as he headed to the library. It was as if Sirius was his father now, and yet at the same time, he wasn't. Sometimes he wished that Sirius really was his dad, but then he would feel guilty when he looked at the pictures of James and Lily, as if he had been disloyal to his real parents. He hesitated to talk about it with anyone, even Ron and Ginny, because he wasn't sure that they would understand. They had grown up in a normal--okay, well, maybe not exactly normal, but a stable and loving family. He didn't think that they could imagine having any parents other than Molly and Arthur.

Ginny had a Summonings project to work on and was meeting with her team members in the Incantations workshop, and Daphne and Ron were working in the greenhouse, so Harry went to the library alone today, to do some studying for his N.E.W.T.s. If he really wanted to become an Auror, he had to pass--and not just pass, but get a high score on at least five of the required N.E.W.T.s. He was still a little torn between playing Quidditch and becoming an Auror, but he wanted to at least have the option open to him.

Potions was still one of his most difficult subjects, so he looked up some books that Snape had recommended to his seventh-year class, and he also brought his History of Magic textbooks. It wasn't that History was difficult exactly, more that it was difficult to pay attention to Professor Binns's droning monotone lectures.

He was looking for somewhere to sit, when he saw Dylan Rosier studying alone at a table. After a moment of hesitation, Harry walked over and said, "Hi, Dylan."

Dylan looked up, startled, then smiled and said, "Hi, Harry. Where's Ginny?"

It made Harry irrationally happy, that people automatically assumed that he and Ginny were a couple and would spend their free time together. "Oh, she's busy working on a project for Professor Blackmore's class," Harry said casually. "Where's Hermione?"

"Doing some sort of extra credit project for McGonagall," Dylan replied.

"Does Hermione really need extra credit?" Harry asked. "Doesn't she already have the highest ranking for that class?"

"No, and yes," Dylan replied with a grin. "But you know Hermione. She's especially anxious because the N.E.W.T.s are coming up soon."

Harry laughed. "I'm the one who should be worried, not her. She'll probably get the highest scores of anyone in our year. Is it okay if I sit here?"

"Yeah, sure, go right ahead."

They studied in silence for several minutes, while Harry inwardly wrestled with himself. It had occurred to him that Dylan would probably understand what he was going through much better than Ron or Ginny or Hermione, but he was a little reluctant to discuss something so personal with the Slytherin boy. It wasn't so much that he disliked Dylan, but he wasn't very close to the younger boy despite his relationship with Hermione, and he was still a little intimidated by Dylan's air of perfection--there didn't seem to be anything that he wasn't good at, and he was always so smooth and self-assured.

But finally Harry hesitantly said, "Dylan...?"

"Yes?" Dylan replied, looking up from his book.

"You're really close to Professor Snape, right?" Harry asked, approaching the subject obliquely. "I mean, he's your foster father, right?"

"Right," Dylan said, looking a little confused, as if wondering what Harry was leading up to.

"And he's Theodore's real father, legally," Harry continued. "I mean, I've noticed that he calls Snape 'Father' when we're not in class. And sometimes even during class, if he's worried or upset about something."

"Yes," Dylan said cautiously.

"I was just wondering," Harry said awkwardly, "if...if you ever feel like calling Snape 'Father' or 'Dad' too? I mean, do you ever wish that he was your real dad?"

Dylan looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if thinking over Harry's question carefully. "Yes and no," he replied. "I love the Professor. He's been like a father to me ever since I came to Hogwarts. He and Remus both have. They're the only fathers I've ever really had, since my own father died before I was born. I love them as much I love my real mother and father, but I don't feel the need to call them 'Dad' or 'Father'. I've always thought of my real father as 'Dad,' and I don't think I could call anyone else that. The Professor did offer to adopt me along with Theo, and part of me wanted him to, but I couldn't bring myself to give up the Rosier name. Maybe it would be different if I had some actual memories of him, but I don't, so that name and this ring--" 

He held up his right hand, showing Harry a silver ring set with a red stone carved to look like a rose; presumably it had belonged to Evan Rosier. "--and my mother's photographs of him are all I have left of him. Well, and the estate too, now that Ms. De Lacy won it back from the Ministry for me. But I felt sort of like I would be betraying him somehow if I gave up his name and let myself be adopted into another family."

"I see," Harry murmured. Dylan had apparently thought this over carefully, in great detail. Maybe for much longer than Harry had.

Dylan gave him a shrewd look. "Do you want to call Sirius 'Dad'? Do you want him to formally adopt you?"

Harry blushed; Dylan had seen through him so easily! But he was startled by the second question; he had never thought of becoming "Harry Black". 

"Um, I never thought about him actually adopting me, and I guess I don't want to change my name from 'Potter' to 'Black,' but...sometimes I do wish I could call him 'Dad'. But then I feel sort of guilty, like I'm being disloyal to my real dad. I guess we're alike that way." Maybe it should have been obvious, but Harry was only just now realizing how much he and Dylan had in common. "I don't really know my parents. Just through stories that people tell me about them, and some photographs that Hagrid and Lupin gave me." And through the scene he had spied on in Snape's Pensieve, but Harry didn't mention that. "I have just one real memory of them, not so much an image, but their voices, shouting at Voldemort, trying to stop him, begging him not to kill me." 

Harry suddenly realized that must sound pretty unbelievable, that he could remember that far back, but Dylan just looked impressed, not skeptical. "Wow, I can't really remember anything before I was maybe four or five years old," Dylan said.

"Seeing the Dementors somehow brought the memory out," Harry confessed.

"Ah," Dylan said, nodding. "I guess that makes sense. They take away your happiest memories and leave you only the most painful ones. Have you talked about this with Sirius? About calling him 'Dad,' I mean, not about the memory."

"No," Harry said. "I'm not really sure how he'd react. He was my dad's best friend; what if he gets angry, feels like I'm being disloyal to James?"

"He loves you a lot, Harry," Dylan replied. "I don't think he would be angry with you."

"Or what if he just feels weird about it?" Harry continued. In a way, it felt good to voice all his fears out loud to someone. "What if he doesn't want me to call him that, but he doesn't want to hurt my feelings? And then what I am supposed to call Professor Blackmore? If I call Sirius 'Dad,' would I have to call her 'Mum,' too?"

Dylan laughed. "Sorry, but that does sound a little weird!"

The two boys laughed together at the thought of calling the most terrifying teacher in the school "Mum". "Although," Harry said, when they finally stopped laughing, "she is really nice to me when we're at home, just the three of us." He remembered her kissing him tenderly on the forehead or cheek on more than a few occasions, and he said slowly, "I guess maybe that might not be so bad, after all, though it would be weird."

"Then you should talk to them about it, Harry," Dylan said, his voice serious too, now.

"But what if--" Harry started to protest.

"They love you, Harry," Dylan said. "They won't be mad. Just tell them what you told me, and they'll help you work something out, something that all three of you can feel comfortable with." Harry still didn't feel convinced, and Dylan continued, "Names don't really matter, Harry. What matters is that you're a family. Theo and I call Professor Lupin 'Remus' because it seemed to be important to him, once we all started living together. I think it makes him feel closer to us, like we think of him as family and not just our teacher. But it didn't seem right to call Professor Snape 'Severus'. I think he would let us do it if we really wanted to, but it just wouldn't feel right. He seems to require something with more dignity, more respect. I mean...you know Remus and the Professor; they're like night and day." Harry nodded. "So, I just call him 'Professor,' but it's different from the way that I call McGonagall or Flitwick 'Professor'. It's not so much what you say, but how you say it."

Harry nodded again. Now that he thought about it, although Dylan always called Snape "Professor," there was a certain tone of affection in his voice when he said it. It was similar to the way that the other Slytherins talked about "the Professor" with a tone of pride and affection. They had warmed up to Snape a great deal after the war ended, perhaps because they knew how he had protected them, or maybe because their affection for Lupin had spilled over onto him, or maybe a combination of both.

"I told Theo once that it didn't matter to me that all our last names were different--Rosier, Nott, Lupin, or Snape, we're all still family," Dylan said. "My mother and I didn't even share the same last name--she was still a Donner, since my father died before he could marry her." Harry noticed that Dylan said this in a matter-of-fact voice, without any embarrassment or resentment. "And my great-uncle and aunt and cousin are Donners, too, of course, but it doesn't matter that we don't share the same last name. We're still family. I'm not saying that you shouldn't call Sirius 'Dad' if it's important to you, but it seems to me that what's really important to you is that you want to think of him as family, not just as a friend of your father who's looking after you, and that you want him to think of you as family, too."

"Maybe that's it," Harry admitted, then said shyly, "I...I never really had a family. I lived with the Dursleys, my mum's sister's family, but...well...they never really wanted me. They hated having me around. They're Muggles, and my magic scared them."

Dylan nodded. "Yeah, I kind of know how you feel. My grandmother and my uncles hated me, and they let me know it at every available opportunity. They never forgave my mother for falling in love with my father, and they never forgave me for being the son of a Death Eater."

"That wasn't your fault, though," Harry said.

Dylan smiled, a cynical and slightly sad smile. "It wasn't your fault that you were born a wizard, either."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said.

"So anyway," Dylan said, "if you're asking for my advice, I think you should talk to Sirius."  "Do you think my dad would be upset if knew?" Harry asked anxiously, although he was probably being a bit silly. After all, how would Dylan know what James Potter would have thought? That was probably a question that he should be asking Sirius, or maybe Lupin. But he felt more comfortable sounding out Dylan first.

"Well," Dylan said thoughtfully, "your parents chose Sirius as your godfather, right? That means they wanted him to take care of you if anything happened to them. So doesn't that mean that they chose him to be part of your family?"

"When you put it that way, I guess so," Harry said uncertainly.

"And Remus told me that he and Sirius and your father were like brothers," Dylan continued. "So he was already family even before your parents died. Not blood relatives, but family in the way that Remus and the Professor and Theo and I are family."

"But you don't think that my father would be upset if I started calling Sirius 'Dad'?" Harry asked. "It's one thing for Sirius to be family, like a brother or an uncle, but for him to be taking over my dad's place..."

"He wouldn't be taking your dad's place, Harry," Dylan said patiently. "Even if Sirius did adopt you, or if you just started calling him 'Dad,' would you forget about your real parents? Would you stop thinking about them?"

"No," Harry replied.

"I didn't stop loving my mother and father when I went to live with the Professor and Remus," Dylan said. "It's more like...my family grew bigger." He grinned. "I guess it's sort of like I have four parents now! And a brother. I always wanted a brother or a sister when I was growing up."

"Hmm," Harry said. It sounded better when he thought of it that way--not like Sirius and Professor Blackmore were replacing his parents, but that they were joining the family and making it bigger.

"And I guess Blaise and Damien are sort of like my brothers, too," Dylan continued, then laughed. "I guess you could say that Blaise will probably become my brother-in-law!"

Harry laughed, flushing a little, as he recalled Blaise and Theodore's dramatic kiss at the Yule Ball. "Uh...I guess you could say that."

"Anyway, I don't really know what my father would think about all this," Dylan said. "But the Professor was his friend, so I hope he'd be happy that his old friend was looking after me. My mother named the Professor and Remus as my guardians in her will, so I know she that she wanted me to live with them. And I know that she would have wanted me to be happy. I would have wanted the same for her, if the situation were reversed. She would've missed me, of course, the way I miss her, but I wouldn't have wanted her to be miserable for the rest of her life." He smiled at Harry, in a serious but friendly way. "I don't think that your parents would begrudge you being happy with Sirius and Professor Blackmore." 

Harry slowly nodded. His parents had loved him; they had given their own lives to save him. So they would want him to be happy. And they had loved Sirius, too. So maybe they wouldn't mind after all, if he loved Sirius and Professor Blackmore like family. "I...I need to think about this a little more before I talk to Sirius," Harry said hesitantly. "But that helps a lot. Thank you, Dylan."

"You're welcome, Harry," Dylan replied.

They both picked up their books and began studying again, but Harry was thinking more about their conversation than the Potions text in front of him. He remembered when Dylan had first come to Hogwarts, that he had thought the other boy's face had seemed like a mask. His cool, polite smile that had never changed, even when some of the other students called him a Death Eater to his face, and the way that his silver-gray eyes had always seemed to remain guarded, even when he was laughing and flirting with the girls, who had never seemed to notice his air of aloofness. 

This was one of the few times that Harry felt he had seen the real Dylan Rosier. The only other time they had ever talked about such personal things with each other was the night during the summer at Grimmauld Place when Theodore had woken up screaming from a terrible nightmare, and Harry and Dylan and the others had gone down to the kitchen for some hot milk. They had talked a little about their fathers then, too, come to think of it, about how it had come as a shock to both of them when they had realized that their fathers weren't perfect.

Dylan had shared some incredibly personal things just now, about his parents and Lupin and Snape, simply because Harry had asked him for advice. And now Harry felt a little ashamed of how he had behaved in past, suspecting Dylan of being a Death Eater, and how he had never stopped Ron or the other Gryffindor boys from insulting Dylan, even if he hadn't actually called Dylan names himself. That reminded him uncomfortably of the way that the young Lupin in the Pensieve memory had not stopped James and Sirius from tormenting Snape, even if Harry's friends had never gone as far as they had, and Dylan had never seemed to be bothered much by their name-calling. Or maybe he had just been better at hiding his feelings than the young Snape had. That was a rather disturbing thought.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out.

"For what?" Dylan asked, sounding puzzled.

"For suspecting you of being a Death Eater," Harry said, flushing a little. "Before, I mean."

Dylan gave him a thoughtful, slightly quizzical look, then said, "It's all right, Harry. You were right to suspect me, at least at first. I did want to become a Death Eater, until I found out what they were really like."

"Hermione believed in you all along," Harry said, then sighed. "She's always right about things. It gets to be a little annoying after awhile."

Dylan laughed. "She's not infallible. I'll tell you a little secret, if you promise not to tell Hermione."

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"I didn't join S.P.E.W. because I believed in house-elf rights," Dylan said with a grin. "I joined so I could spend time with Hermione."

"Well, that's not really that hard to figure out now," Harry said wryly. "Although back then, Ron and I couldn't figure out why you had joined."

"Hermione would be mad, though, if she knew that I joined just so I could make time with her," Dylan said, still grinning. "I'm sure she'd think it quite shallow of me."

"If you wanted to be a Death Eater," Harry said, "wasn't it a little odd of you to like a Muggle-born girl?"

"Yes, I knew that I shouldn't like her," Dylan admitted. "But I did. She seemed different from all the other girls. She would talk to me, actual conversations about things that she cared about, house-elves and books and her studies, instead of just flirting and simpering at me. And she wasn't afraid to say what was on her mind, even when people made fun of her for it, like S.P.E.W." Dylan's expression went a little dreamy. "And she was so passionate about it. I loved hearing her talk about S.P.E.W., even if I didn't particularly believe in it."

"You know that she still wants to free the house-elves," Harry said.

"I know," Dylan said. "And I'll help her, if that's what she wants."

"Even if you don't believe in house-elf rights?"

"Well, I'm not really opposed to it," Dylan said, looking more serious now. "Actually, she did make me think about things I had never considered before. She'd probably be horrified to know that the Donner estate has house-elves; I guess I'll have to figure out a way to break it to her gently before I take her home to meet Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin." He hastily assured Harry, as if imagining an outraged Hermione in front of him, "I'm not so sure about my late grandmother and uncles, but Math and Goewin have always treated the house-elves more like family than servants."

"I'm not the one you have to convince," Harry told him, and Dylan laughed.

"You're right. And I don't think that people should be allowed to mistreat their house-elves. I have no objection to giving them their freedom if they want it. I just don't think that most of them will take it."

"A few might, like Dobby," Harry said. "Even if Hermione only ends up helping one house-elf who wants to be free, it would still be worth it to that elf."

"That's true," Dylan said, nodding, then grinned slyly at Harry. "Maybe you should come to our next S.P.E.W. meeting."

"Oh no!" Harry groaned in exaggerated horror. "I'll make a deal with you--you don't drag me to any S.P.E.W. meetings, and I won't tell Hermione about your ulterior motives for joining! Or that your family has house-elves."

"Done!" Dylan said, laughing. "You know, maybe there really is a little Slytherin in you, after all, Potter!"

Harry laughed, thinking ruefully to himself, _You have no idea!_ But Harry felt that he had revealed enough secrets for one day, and kept to himself the knowledge that he was indeed a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, through Tom Riddle, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort. He pushed that uncomfortable thought out of his mind, and they both settled down to study. And Harry found, feeling pleasantly surprised, that he felt as if he had made a new friend today, even though he had known Dylan for almost four years.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The characters all struggle with their various problems, until the tension builds up and escalates into a violent confrontation on the day of the Quidditch Cup finals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Japanese terms:
> 
> Oniisan (or shortened form Niisan)=Older brother
> 
> Okaasan=Mother
> 
> Otoosan=Father
> 
> -kun=Suffix added to a name; used by a superior when addressing a subordinate, or by close friends and family members. Usually used only when addressing a boy in the second case.
> 
> -chan=Similar to "kun" but usually refers only to girls or young children.
> 
> -hime=Princess (In this case, it refers to Professor Chizuru from "Phoenix Rising," who is the daughter of the ruler of the crane clan).

Things were fairly quiet for the next couple of weeks. On one hand, Snape being under house arrest was one step closer to getting him arrested, but on the other, that made it more difficult for Williamson to frame him. Cyril Diggory was being very careful, too; Williamson wrote to Stewart Ackerley, asking him to keep an eye on the werewolf, and Stewart wrote back that Diggory was spending nearly all his free time in the company of his fellow teachers. Obviously he'd learned his lesson from the first incident, and was being careful to establish an ongoing alibi for himself. 

The only small consolation was that the werewolf didn't really enjoy being sociable, and the enforced companionship was getting on his nerves--Stewart reported that Diggory had been in a very bad mood lately, being irritable and short-tempered during class. And the other teachers, except for Lupin, weren't enjoying spending time with a grumpy werewolf, although they still took turns pulling "alibi duty". They were mostly sympathetic, and inclined to make allowances for his behavior under the circumstances. Except for Trelawney--it seemed that the werewolf had thrown her crystal ball across the room when she predicted that dire misfortune would befall him.

Williamson smirked; maybe things weren't so bad, after all. The werewolf was obviously on edge, and it probably wouldn't take much to provoke him into violence, which would then give the Aurors an excuse to arrest him. An attack on one of his pack members would probably do the trick, but Williamson found himself thwarted again. The pack didn't venture out of their townhouse unless they absolutely had to, and when they did, they Apparated or traveled by Floo, giving Williamson few opportunities to attack them unseen. He did not dare attack them at their residence, since he knew that Blackmore's elementals would be watching. 

On the bright side, a few more of the werewolves had lost their jobs, including the girl who worked at the Magical Menagerie. Parents buying familiars for their children made up a large portion of the shop's clientele, and what parent would want to bring their children to a shop where a dangerous beast worked? And Williamson had of course made sure that word got out that a werewolf was working there. Maybe if he could drive the rest of the employed werewolves out of their jobs, that would be enough to provoke Diggory into doing something foolish. Either that, or the werewolves would get desperate enough to resort to illegal methods of earning income, and the Aurors would be ready to arrest them when they did. But that would take time.

And Snape was the one that Williamson really wanted, not Diggory. But still, Snape was protective of the werewolves since his lover was one. Arresting Diggory or one of the other werewolves might be enough to goad Snape into breaking his confinement or doing something else that would get him arrested. Or maybe he could coerce one of the werewolves into testifying against Snape--not likely, since they were a stubborn lot, but in Williamson's experience, there was always one person in a group who would fold under pressure, who could be threatened or bribed. A parent, for example, might do anything to protect their child and avoid being separated from them, especially when they were the only parent that the child had left to depend on. And there were at least two single mothers in Diggory's pack.

So Williamson decided to bide his time for the moment, and wait. Besides, he and Dawlish were spending so much time together on the investigation, that he had little free time to be carrying out fake werewolf attacks or planting evidence. But neither could he afford to let the public's animosity fade. If something didn't happen soon, the fickle public would begin to forget, and the outrage would die down. So Williamson waited, but he was not idle during that time. With Dawlish's help, he continued to put pressure on the werewolves' employers, and spread dark rumors about the werewolves throughout the wizarding world, hoping that would be enough to draw Diggory and Snape out into the open. But in case it wasn't, Williamson secretly continued to plot and plan his next move...

*** 

Meanwhile, Lukas's trial resumed. The full moon passed without incident, and both Pritchard and Baddock were declared healthy and uninfected. But although Pritchard's wounds had long since healed, he had come close to suffering a nervous breakdown, and it was not until the end of May, when the fifth and seventh-year students were taking their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, that he was both physically and mentally strong enough to resume his Wizengamot duties. Arthur had proposed appointing a substitute, but the rest of the Wizengamot, as well as Lamont Whitby, had objected. Lukas and Morrigan had not fought them on it, since that would only make it look as if Lukas were trying to get Pritchard out of the way, and they hoped that the extra time would give them a chance to find proof of the werewolves' innocence. However, the attacks were still unsolved, and the public was still restless and suspicious when the trial resumed...

Whitby, of course, tried to implicate Lukas in the werewolf attacks, while Morrigan argued that there was no proof that he was involved in them, and that he even had an alibi for the second attack. But Whitby didn't have to prove that Lukas was involved; all he had to do was plant doubt in the minds of the Wizengamot. He brought in Dawlish and Williamson to testify about the details of the werewolf attacks, and although there was no direct evidence linking Lukas to them, the lawyer's ploy seemed to be working--Pritchard was far from the only member of the court to cast fearful and hostile glances in Lukas's direction. 

Morrigan cross-examined the Aurors thoroughly, and forced them to admit that they had no grounds to arrest Lukas or any other member of his pack, but the damage was already done. She also brought in the Peasegood family to testify about Lukas's heroism in the Graphorn incident, but she feared that it didn't make nearly as much of an impression as the Aurors' insinuations did.

"I propose that we call for a vote now," Whitby declared, when all the witnesses were done testifying. "We are ready to rest our case." He smiled maliciously at Morrigan. "Unless Ms. De Lacy has further evidence to present."

Morrigan did not, and they both knew it. "I object, Madam Bones," Morrigan said. "It would be unfair to my client to take a vote now, when a cloud of suspicion has been cast over him, even though there is no evidence that he is guilty of any wrongdoing." She glared at Whitby. 

"Are you doubting the integrity of our honored Wizengamot members, Ms. De Lacy?" Whitby asked, affecting a look of shock and indignation. "Are you suggesting that they would not judge your client strictly on the evidence presented in court? That they would allow themselves to be swayed by rumor and gossip?"

They both knew that the Wizengamot--most of them, anyway--would do exactly that, but Morrigan could not say so out loud without offending them and generating further hostility against her client. Madam Bones rapped her gavel on the desk, an impatient look on her face. "Stop posturing, both of you. Ms. De Lacy has a point, but we cannot delay these proceedings indefinitely."

"I merely ask for some time, Madam Bones," Morrigan said respectfully, "to allow the Aurors to finish their investigation and discover the true culprit behind these crimes, and clear my client's good name." She knew that Dawlish and Williamson wouldn't bother conducting a fair investigation, but she knew that Tonks and Shacklebolt were working hard to prove Lukas's and Severus's innocence.

Bones thought it over for a few moments, then decided, "I will give you two weeks. At the end of that time, a vote will be called for if there is no new evidence to be presented."

Morrigan only hoped that two weeks would be enough time. "Thank you, Madam Bones."

"Then court is adjourned," Bones said, rapping her gavel again. "We will meet again two weeks from today."

The Wizengamot and the spectators began to file out of the room. Normally, Amos would have done the same, but following some advice that Williamson had given him, he began to taunt his nephew. "You will never inherit the title! You will be caged and locked up like the beast you are!"

Lukas merely gave him a contemptuous look. "You already tried to lock me up, Uncle, and your cage could not hold me. Oh, excuse me--it was not you, but the Gravenors who locked me up. You couldn't even do your own dirty work. You let a family of Slytherins, whom you claim to despise, do it for you. But you didn't mind reaping the benefits of their work, did you?" He spat on the floor at Amos's feet. "You are nothing but a common thief, Amos. You stole the title that belonged to your brother, my father!"

The people who were leaving the courtroom suddenly paused to watch the argument, and Morrigan whispered, "Don't let him bait you like this, Lukas; it will do you no good to be seen arguing in public. Come, let us go."

Lukas started to follow her, but Amos shouted, "Your father did not deserve the title! He was the thief--he stole the money that belonged to our parents to try to buy cures for your lycanthropy! He sullied our name by becoming a Slytherin and dabbling in the Dark Arts! Who knows, maybe it was his meddling with Dark Magic that caused you to be born a werewolf!"

Lukas slowly turned to face Amos. "Is this really about me and my lycanthropy, Uncle?" he asked softly. "Or has it always been about my father?"

"What are you talking about?" Amos blustered.

But Lukas saw him flinch, and he smiled in a very sinister and predatory way. Amos turned pale and took a step backwards; Lukas did not realize it, but he looked very much like his father at that moment--the same way that Cynric used to look when confronting an enemy. Lukas took a step forward, like a wolf scenting weakness on its prey. "I thought it was me that you hated, Uncle--your inconvenient werewolf nephew. But perhaps it was Cynric that you hated all along. Mother told me once that they used to call him the golden boy; Snape would probably get a laugh out of that. It's what he calls Potter sometimes, but he means it sarcastically, while people at Hogwarts used to say it in earnest about Cynric, for his golden good looks, his charm, his cleverness. Were you jealous of Cynric, dear Uncle, the older brother that you could never live up to, that outshone you in class, on the Quidditch Pitch, and with the girls?" 

Amos's face turned red, and his mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged from it; the crowd watched in fascination, and even Madam Bones seemed enspelled, making no move to reach for her gavel. Lukas's eyes narrowed and he said, "Ah, I've struck a nerve, haven't I? Yes, my father was interested in the Dark Arts. He devoured knowledge as eagerly as any Ravenclaw; it was that impulse that drew him to Slytherin, because he wanted to pursue avenues of study closed to the other Houses. And regardless of what they thought about his House or his morals, his teachers all praised his abilities as a mage. 

"Did it bother you, Amos, when your teachers said what an excellent student your brother was? Did they regard you with just a touch of disappointment when you didn't prove to be his equal? Not that you were a bad student--just not as good as Cynric. You were hardworking and reliable, like a good Hufflepuff, but never exceptional. Did it bother you that the girls all chased after Cynric and ignored you, even though he was never interested in anyone but my mother? Did it eat away at you to know that your golden brother was a rising star at the Ministry and the heir to the title, while you would never be anything more than good old dependable, mediocre Amos? To know that you would always be in Cynric's shadow?"

"Shut up!" Amos screamed. How had the mangy werewolf managed to turn the tables on him so quickly? Now he was the one losing control, not Cyril. He looked at the mocking smile on his nephew's face, and saw instead his brother, whom he had always loved and hated at the same time. Cynric, who had always laughed so easily and carelessly, and had always done as he pleased, ignoring generations of Diggory family traditions, rejecting their Hufflepuff values to become a Slytherin. He had flaunted it, too, wearing that damned snake-headed torc like a badge of honor, as if to deliberately mock his family.

The werewolf gave him that same condescending smile that Cynric had so often used, then turned to leave with his lawyer. But if Cyril knew Amos's weak spot, Amos also knew his nephew's weak spot, because they were one and the same--Cynric Diggory. He knew exactly what to say that would most hurt and enrage Cyril.

"Your father deserved to die!" Amos shouted, and Lukas abruptly spun around on his heel.

Bones finally snapped out of her daze and said sharply, "That's enough, Mr. Diggory!" But both the Diggory men ignored her, eyes fixed on each other and oblivious to anything else around them.

"What did you say?" Lukas growled softly, his voice low and menacing.

"I said that your father deserved to die," Amos repeated defiantly.

"Enough, Amos," Whitby whispered to him nervously. "Don't do this, at least, not in public."

"Don't let him bait you, Lukas," Morrigan pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm in an attempt to lead him away, but he jerked his arm free of her grasp.

"He was a thief, a liar, and a blackmailer," Amos sneered. "What kind of son blackmails his own parents?"

"A father who wants to protect his own son," Lukas growled.

"And he was a murderer, too," Amos said, ignoring him, and the spectators gasped. This was hurting the Diggory family image that he had worked so hard to protect all these years, but he was too far gone to care. "More than one of those potion-peddlers who swindled him disappeared and was never seen or heard from again."

"That's how con men work," Lukas snarled. "Once they're exposed, they move on to greener pastures."

"But one didn't just disappear," Amos retorted. "One particular swindler didn't just sell Cynric an ineffective potion; he sold him one that made you sick and almost killed you." 

Lukas fell silent; he remembered that potion, remembered becoming violently ill and throwing up until his stomach was empty, and then coughing up blood when there was nothing else left to vomit. Looking back, he realized that it had probably contained aconite--but in too high a dosage or improperly brewed, which was not surprising. It had taken over a decade for two of the most talented Potions Masters in the world to come up with the proper formula, and that swindler had been no Master. He remembered how terrified his parents had been, and he remembered how his father had left the house the next day, looking furious, then returned hours later with a grim but satisfied smile on his face. Neither Lukas nor his mother had ever asked Cynric where he had gone or what he had done.

"He turned up floating in the river two days after the full moon," Amos continued. "It appeared that someone had force-fed him one of his own potions."

"Some might call that poetic justice," Lukas said caustically.

"Some might call that murder," Amos snapped. "He did that for you, too, Cyril--how does it feel to know that you are the reason that your father sank to such depths, to lie and blackmail, to deal in illegal drugs and even murder for your sake?"

This time it was Cyril's turn to flinch, and Amos smiled in satisfaction. But that still was not enough; he had to make the werewolf lose control completely. "Your father was always cocky and reckless," he taunted. "He always had to show off on his broom, fly higher than everyone else. He swam in the lake despite the mermen and giant squid, and even once snuck into a dragon's pen on a dare."

"Mr. Diggory!" Bones said, pounding her gavel on the desk.

"Only an idiot would have gone out flying during a thunderstorm!" Amos continued, heedless of the warning. "Your father thought he was better than everyone else, thought he could break the rules and get away with it! Well, he finally took one chance too many, and he got exactly what he deserved! He's got no one to blame for his death but himself!"

That finally broke Lukas's self-control, and he lunged forward at Amos with a howl of outrage, his teeth bared and his yellow-green eyes glittering madly; there was no humanity at all left in them. The spectators cried out, and Amos blanched in fear, suddenly realizing that he had not fully considered the consequences of provoking a werewolf into a state of fury, and he silently cursed Williamson and his crazy ideas.

"NO!" shouted Morrigan, and grabbed him from behind, trying to restrain him--with limited success. She was not strong enough to hold him back, but the weight of her body did slow Lukas down, and he looked back to see what was hindering him. The sight of Morrigan's face--angry, concerned, and determined--restored just enough of his sanity for him to halt his attack, although he was still wild-eyed, and panting heavily with his teeth bared, staring at Amos as if he wanted to rip his uncle's throat out. 

Both he and Amos gradually became aware that Madam Bones was still pounding her gavel loudly, shouting, "Order in the court!" And then Lukas also noticed while most of the spectators and Wizengamot members were frozen with fear and shock, a few had managed to keep their wits about them and had their wands out and pointed at him, apparently prepared to stop him from attacking Amos. One of them was Mathias Donner, looking grave and concerned. When he saw that Lukas had come to his senses, he smiled in relief and put his wand away. 

Another was Percy Weasley, looking pale and frightened, but he held his wand steady. He too looked relieved when he saw that he wouldn't have to attack Lukas, after all. Lukas knew from overhearing Ron talking with his friends that the younger Weasley boy did not think too highly of his older brother, considering him something of a prig and a pest, but perhaps Ron was wrong about Percy. Or maybe the war had changed and matured him, as it had matured many of the other Hogwarts students, particularly the Slytherins. And as he stared at Percy's pale face--the boy still looked almost young enough to be one of his students--Lukas finally shook off the wolf's anger and became completely sane once more, and he realized the magnitude of what he had just done and how badly he had damaged his case.

Whitby looked as stunned as everyone else, but he was quick to recover. "Did you see that?" he demanded. "The werewolf tried to attack my client! I could have him brought up on assault charges!"

"My client was provoked!" Morrigan said hotly. "Amos deliberately goaded him--"

"Both of your clients behaved in an inexcusable manner!" Madam Bones interrupted, glaring at all four of them. "I am sorely tempted to slap both of them with a contempt of court charge!" Whitby started to protest that court had not been in session when the quarrel broke out, but saw the look in Bones's eyes, and quickly fell silent. "Your behavior was deplorable, Mr. Diggory," Bones told Amos sternly, "and it is obvious that you were trying to provoke your nephew." Then she turned to Lukas and said in an equally stern voice, "But no insult, however deplorable, is justification for assault. At least, not in my courtroom! If either of you step out of line again, I will let you cool off in a prison cell! Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lukas said in a subdued voice.

"Yes, Madam Bones," Amos said, but he did not look particularly repentant.

"Very well," Bones said. "We will meet again in two weeks; hopefully the break will give you time to get your tempers under control. I expect your behavior to be impeccable at our next session." She rapped her gavel and said pointedly, "Court is adjourned--again."

Whitby hustled Amos out of the courtroom whispering, "That was a foolish move, Amos. You should not have lost control in front of the Wizengamot--and the public--like that."

"What are you talking about?" Amos asked. "They all saw that Cyril is a dangerous beast!"

"Yes, and they all heard you say that you hated your brother and thought he deserved to die!" Whitby retorted tartly, giving Amos a disapproving look. "Whatever animosity there was between you and Cynric, you went too far today, Amos. Rita Skeeter was in the audience, and what if she prints an article in the Daily Prophet quoting you on saying that your brother deserved to die? She could twist your words around and give credence to Cyril's accusations that you killed his father. At the very least, you will come off sounding cold and callous--not exactly the image we are trying project!"

Amos looked a little uneasy, but he said, "People will understand that those words were spoken in the heat of anger, and that I didn't really mean them. There was bad blood between Cynric and myself, but he was still my brother, and I still loved him even though I was angry at him."

"I believe you, Amos," Whitby said, "but other people might not! This might even generate sympathy for Cyril, if people see him as a son defending his father's reputation."

"They might, if he were a normal human," Amos conceded. "But he isn't. He's a werewolf, and all they'll see is a beast showing its true nature."

"Hopefully they will," Whitby said, still looking disapproving. "But no more outbursts in court, Amos. Leave the defense up to me in the future--that's what you're paying me for, after all."

"Yes, Lamont," Amos said placatingly, but no matter what the lawyer said, he still felt that he had done more good than harm today. But he would have to be careful about provoking Cyril in the future. Amos did want his nephew to be arrested, but he wouldn't be able to enjoy his victory if he got killed in the process.

*** 

Meanwhile, Morrigan was likewise dragging her errant client out of the courtroom. Lukas opened his mouth to speak, and she snapped, "Not one word out of you until we're alone!" At the moment, she looked furious and almost as intimidating as Snape and Blackmore, so Lukas kept his mouth shut as they made their way past the exiting spectators (who gave him a wide berth) and Rita Skeeter. Morrigan gave a curt, "No comment," to the reporter as she shouted questions at them.

Finally, when they were alone in her office, Morrigan shouted, "Didn't I warn you before not to lose your temper? You played right into their hands back there!"

"Look, I know I screwed up, all right?" Lukas shouted back, although he was more angry with himself than he was with her.

"No, it's not all right!" Morrigan shot back. "Your impetuous action may very well have undone everything we have worked to accomplish these past five months! I've told you over and over, that we have to convince the Wizengamot that you are a man, not a beast--"

"I _am_ a beast!" Lukas shouted, and Morrigan stared at him in shock. "That's what none of you seem to understand, not even Lupin!" Lukas raged, although he knew that he was unfairly taking his frustration out on the lawyer, who was, after all, only trying to help him. "In a way, those bigoted purebloods are right; I'm a beast pretending to be a man! Lady Selima can dress me up in velvet robes and teach me fine manners and how to dance, but in my heart, I am a wolf!" 

His anger suddenly drained out of him, leaving him with a sense of weariness. "You don't know how hard it's been, trying to keep the wolf under control all these months, trying to act like a 'proper' pureblood. I have to think about every move I make, every word I speak, so that I don't reveal my true nature, so that I don't growl and snap at the people who annoy me."

"I'm sorry, Lukas," Morrigan said quietly. "I know it's been difficult for you, but I didn't realize just how difficult."

"It was different once, when my parents were alive," Lukas said. "I tried very hard to be human then, to fight my wolfish nature as Lupin fought his. But when they died and I was left alone, I had to become the wolf in order to survive."

"I'm sorry," Morrigan repeated. "It's not fair that you should have to put on an act to regain your rightful inheritance, but we both know that life isn't fair. We've come so far; can't you maintain the act just a little longer? Or will you give up your father's inheritance to Amos?"

"Maybe it's not worth it," Lukas growled, beginning to get angry again. "It's because of this damned lawsuit that Amos and the Aurors have come after my pack and my friends. They have the head of the Snape family under house arrest, for Merlin's sake! Can you imagine what they could do to a werewolf with no clan and no wealth?"

"That is why you must win this case, Lukas," Morrigan told him. "As head of the Diggory family, you will be better able to protect your pack." Her anger, too, had receded, and she gave him a sympathetic look. "Go back to Hogwarts and get some rest, Lukas. Don't make any decisions that you might regret later until you've had a chance to calm down and think things over."

Lukas nodded and took the Floo back to Hogwarts, and was almost immediately sought out by an anxious Lupin and a sour-looking Snape.

"We heard what happened today, Lukas," Lupin said.

"Bad news travels fast," Lukas said sarcastically.

"Math sent us word," Lupin said. "He was concerned about you."

"And I've no doubt that we'll be getting an owl from my mother before long," Snape grumbled. "If we're lucky, that is. If we're not, Lady Selima will come in person to vent her wrath upon us. Like the time she decided that we had to throw a party at Snape Manor to make up for you howling at the moon."

"Severus," Lupin said nervously as he saw the look on Lukas's face. At least one of them was able to pick up on the fact that Lukas wasn't in the mood for this right now. The other, unfortunately, was not.

"I don't know why I always get blamed for everything you do," Snape continued. "I swear, Diggory, if my mother decides to hold another party--"

"Tell your mother to stop interfering in my life!" Lukas snarled, and the Potions Master stared at him in shock. He knew that Snape's complaining was mostly good-natured, but Lukas's nerves were on edge, and he was heartily sick of the pureblood world and its cutthroat politics. And he also couldn't help but remember that it was Selima who had gotten him into this mess in the first place, first by exposing his identity and then by urging him to challenge Amos for the title. 

If he had remained an anonymous werewolf, then perhaps his pack would not be suffering the way they were now, losing their jobs and being threatened by Aurors and vigilantes. He should never have let Lady Selima badger him into this lawsuit...no, that wasn't really fair. His real mistake was taking this damn job at Hogwarts in the first place. He should have known that sooner or later, with all the pureblood children that attended the school, he would have encountered someone who would notice his resemblance to his father.

"We'll go now, Lukas," Lupin said quietly. "It's obvious that you need some time alone. But please don't forget that you have friends who are willing to share your burdens. Don't make the same mistake I once did, of shutting out the people who care about you."

"Does he always lecture people this way, even when he's not in class?" Lukas growled.

"Constantly," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "He's a typical sanctimonious Gryffindor; you're lucky you don't have to live with him." Lupin just smiled at his lover, gave Lukas one last worried look, and then both of them left. 

Lukas paced around his quarters restlessly, still feeling like he wanted to pick a fight with someone, or at least smash some of the furniture. Then he noticed that there was a letter lying on his desk; could Lady Selima already have gotten word about today's fiasco? 

But when he took a closer look at it, he recognized the handwriting as Takeshi's. He tore open the envelope and read the letter inside:

"The other werewolves don't want to worry you, but I think you ought to know, or at least be forewarned. Rachel was fired from her job at the Leaky Cauldron yesterday, after several regular patrons threatened to boycott the inn if they didn't 'get rid of the werewolf'. And someone threw a rock through the window of the bookstore that Brian works at. No one was hurt, although they were a little shaken up. The owner refuses to fire Brian, though, saying that he's a friend and a hero of the war. And don't worry, my father and I have warded the store quite thoroughly. We should have thought of that before, that the places where the pack works would need to be protected, not just the townhouse and the clinic."

_Since when is Takeshi's father an expert on protective wards?_ Lukas wondered, then recalled Snape telling him that the Kimuras were more than simple restauranteurs. Well, there was not much need for protective wards now, since nearly all the werewolves but Brian and Lukas had lost their jobs, Lukas thought to himself bitterly. The letter went on to assure Lukas that the Sakura would offer refuge to the werewolves if the Ministry came after them, but Lukas did not find that reassuring. 

It was his fault that his pack was in danger. Because he had allowed himself to be tempted by the offer of the job at Hogwarts and the chance to win back his father's inheritance. Their lives may have been hard before, but they had gotten by. The pack had survived because they were unimportant and had not attracted the attention of the purebloods before. It was true that most of the pureblood elite despised anyone with tainted blood, but they didn't really care if a few mangy werewolves scraped together a living by doing a little petty thievery or smuggling, so long as they confined their activities to Knockturn Alley, away from the shining mansions of the pureblood Lords and Ladies. But Lukas had challenged the social order, and that they could not ignore. He had been a fool not to realize that there would be consequences for his actions.

Lukas suddenly found his heavy velvet robes oppressive; what the hell he was doing, trying to ape the manners of a pureblood Lord? Why on earth was he trying so hard to become like the people he hated? He tore off the robes in revulsion and flung them to the floor, not wanting to wear them even a second longer. What was the point in trying to become something he wasn't, anyway? Putting a jeweled collar on a wolf wouldn't turn it into a pureblood lapdog. And then the gold torc suddenly seemed too tight, as if it were choking him, although he knew it was only his imagination. But it was the wolf who reacted, and not the man, the wolf who could not stand to be bound or confined--or collared. Without thinking, Lukas pulled the torc off his neck and flung it across the room.

It hit the wall with a loud clang, and one of the snake-head knobs broke off, and both pieces of the broken torc fell to the floor with a clatter. And as the wolf's rage receded, Lukas was filled with remorse as remembered that the torc was not simply part of his pureblood costume, but a cherished love-token, a gift from his mother to his father, one of the few keepsakes he had left of his family. And he was also reminded that he did not hate all the purebloods; he had loved his parents, who had done their best to protect him, and of course he cared about Gwen and Tristan. And even if most of the purebloods were bigots, there were still a few who were his friends and were trying to help him: Arthur, Morrigan, Snape, Branwen, Sirius, and even Lady Selima, as annoying as she was.

Lukas crossed the room and knelt down to examine the torc, thinking that perhaps he could have it repaired. But as he picked up the torc, he saw a bit of parchment sticking out of the end, and realized that it was hollow. He picked up the snake-head knob and examined both pieces more closely, and saw that the knob was actually a cap designed to close off the hollow ring of metal. The knob had not actually snapped off; the force of the blow had simply loosened it. Lukas smiled; people had sometimes said that his mother Anya was too gentle and good-natured to be a Slytherin, but she had certainly been as sly as anyone else in that House. The torc was not a just a piece of jewelry, but a receptacle to hide important documents. His curiosity piqued, Lukas gently eased the tightly-rolled piece of parchment out of the torc, moving very slowly and carefully since the paper looked brittle and yellowed with age.

Just as carefully, Lukas unrolled and flattened out the parchment; it turned out to be not just one, but two handwritten pages that, judging by the jagged edges on the left side of the papers, had been torn out of a book. Lukas let out a sharp hiss of surprise as he read them; he immediately understood why Cynric had stolen and hidden these papers, and he also understood why the Diggory family might have wanted to kill their own son and brother. Cynric must have hidden the papers as a form of insurance, but he had never passed down the secret to his son, probably because he had not expected to die so young.

"Oh, Father," Lukas whispered sadly. "Amos was right about one thing--you were always reckless. Ruthless Slytherin that you were, did you never imagine that your family might seek revenge for this?" But Cynric had probably thought that his Hufflepuff family was too meek and mild to resort to murder. Or perhaps it had simply never occurred to him that his own family would turn on him that way, no matter how angry they were.

Lukas stared at the sheets of parchment for a very long time, torn as to what he should do. He was certain now that his father's death had not been an accident, but the papers were only proof of motive, not murder. They were not enough to get Amos sent to Azkaban. But the information in them was damaging enough that he could probably blackmail Amos into surrendering his claim to the title. The practical side of him told him that was exactly what he should do, to use the papers as leverage to win the estate, and then he could use the Diggory wealth and name to protect his pack. But the wolf--no, not just the wolf, but the young boy who had been orphaned at an early age--wanted revenge. It was not enough for Amos to be humiliated and stripped of his title; Lukas wanted Amos to pay in blood for Cynric's death.

"An eye for an eye," Lukas whispered, still staring at the yellowed pages of parchment. "A life for a life."

Except that the wizarding world would not see it that way. They would see it as murder. And if he were caught, he would be sent to Azkaban or executed. Right at this moment, Lukas didn't particularly care what would happen to him afterwards; his own life seemed like a small price to pay in order to finally avenge his parents. The only thing holding him back was the knowledge that his pack would be alone and unprotected if anything happened to him.

Finally he cast a spell that made copies of the two pages. A magical examination would prove them to be duplicates, and they would not be admissible in court, but they should be proof enough to Amos that Lukas possessed the originals. He rolled up the duplicates, slipped them into the torc, and put the knob back on the end. Then he placed the originals in an envelope and sealed it with wax. He pricked his finger and let a single drop of blood fall onto the wax, then took out his wand and chanted a brief incantation.

He was still not certain what he intended to do, but he had two weeks until his next court date. Two weeks to decide between practicality and revenge. But whatever the outcome, the original documents needed to be stored in a safer place than the torc or his quarters.

*** 

A few minutes later, Morrigan looked up in surprise as Lukas stepped through the fireplace into her office. "Lukas? Is something wrong?"

"Yes and no," Lukas said with a mirthless smile, and Morrigan gave him a puzzled look. "Never mind," he said. "There is a decision I must make on my own, and I am afraid you cannot help me with that."

"Then what can I do for you, Lukas?" Morrigan asked.

He handed her an envelope with a glowing red wax seal. "Please keep this safe for me," he said. "If anything happens to me, I want you to make the contents public." He smiled again, that strangely grim and humorless smile. "Have Rita Skeeter print it in the Daily Prophet. She'll be delighted to have such a juicy scoop."

"What do you mean, if anything happens to you?" Morrigan asked in alarm.

"Just a precaution, Morrigan," Lukas replied. "Will you keep it safe for me?"

"Of course," Morrigan replied. "But--"

"Thank you," Lukas said, and vanished back through the Floo.

A concerned and puzzled Morrigan examined the seal more closely, casting a few exploratory spells to determine the exact nature of the enchantment, and what she learned alarmed her even more. The envelope was protected with a Blood Ward that could only be released by Lukas's personal command or upon his death. It was considered to be a form of Dark Magic, and only a Slytherin, or someone who had been raised by a Slytherin, was likely to know how to cast it. Technically, it was a defensive rather than a combative spell, and did no harm to anyone, but most wizards tended to see any type of Blood Magic as evil.

Morrigan was very curious about the contents of the envelope, but her duty as a lawyer was to respect her client's wishes. And besides, the Blood Ward was a simple but very strong spell that was almost impossible to break. If the envelope had not been warded, perhaps she would have given in to temptation and snuck a peek at what lay inside, and Morrigan wondered, smiling wryly, if that was why Lukas had warded the envelope.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she sighed, and locked the envelope away in a safe that was not only sealed by a combination lock and magical wards, but was hidden behind a panel in the wall. But she still wondered what information Lukas had that was so sensitive that it could only be released upon his death. The most likely answer was some secret scandal in the Diggory family, but in that case, she did not understand why he would not let her use it against Amos. Perhaps it was something that might make his own parents look bad? But then, why not destroy the evidence altogether? Why give it to Morrigan to be published after his death?

She uneasily hoped that he wasn't trying to cut a deal with Amos on his own, and that he wasn't going to do something stupid that might get him killed. But she kept remembering Lukas saying, "If anything happens to me," and she also remembered Amos saying how reckless Cynric Diggory had been. From things Lukas had said in the past, and the gossip Morrigan had heard from her own sources, it was a cruel but accurate description, and she hoped that Lukas had not inherited this particular weakness from his father.

*** 

Although Snape normally spent most of his time in the dungeon and rarely left the castle except on business, now that he was forbidden to leave it, the huge building seemed strangely claustrophobic. No wonder Black had nearly gone insane being cooped up in the mansion on Grimmauld Place, which was a much smaller and much less pleasant place to live than the castle. Snape became more ill-tempered than usual, and frequently found himself snapping at Lupin even though he knew that his lover didn't deserve it. Lupin was compassionate and understanding as always, but Snape suspected that even his saintly patience was being sorely tested what with having to keep company not only with a cranky Potions Master, but also a surly werewolf. Lupin pulled "alibi duty" with Diggory more often than the other teachers, mostly because he was the least intimidated by the way Diggory growled and bared his teeth, and partly because Diggory seemed more at ease in the company of another werewolf than with a human.

But it seemed that Lupin had finally had enough, because he showed up at Snape's office a couple of days after the trial with a picnic basket tucked under one arm. "Let's go, Severus," Lupin said firmly. "You need to get some fresh air."

"Go where, Lupin?" Snape asked irritably, as he looked up from the papers he was grading. "You know that I'm not allowed to leave the castle."

Lupin grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up from his chair. "We don't have to leave the castle to get some fresh air," Lupin said with a wink. "Come on, follow me."

Since it was obvious that Lupin wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, Snape let his lover lead him out of the dungeon and up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Grinning proudly, Lupin pulled a blanket out of the basket and spread it out on the Tower landing. "You see, technically we are still in the castle. But I thought it might be nice for you get a little fresh air and feel the breeze against your face."

Snape took a deep breath, drinking in the fresh air, and looked out over the castle grounds, admiring the view. He hadn't been up here in years, except for the time that he had come to apprehend his two wayward Slytherins, Malfoy and Dietrich, when Sinistra had caught them drinking, and he hadn't really been paying much attention to the view at the time. There was indeed a gentle breeze blowing, and it did feel very pleasant against his face. "Thank you, Remus," Snape said, feeling much calmer than he had in weeks. "It is nice."

Lupin beamed at him, obviously delighted that he'd made Snape feel better, and Snape felt touched, that making him happy should make Lupin so happy. "Come and eat, Severus," Lupin said, and began unloading the picnic basket, laying out bread, cheese, sliced meats, fruit, and a bottle of wine on the blanket.

Well, it was almost dinnertime, and although he had not had much of an appetite lately, Snape suddenly felt hungry. So he sat on the blanket beside Lupin, and they enjoyed a picnic dinner together.

Later, after they had devoured most of the food, Lupin snuggled up against Snape, resting his head on Snape's shoulder, looking sleepy and contented. Snape sipped at his glass of wine, feeling equally contented. He supposed that they should get back to the dungeon, but he didn't feel like moving, and Lupin didn't seem inclined to move anytime soon, either. He probably shouldn't let Lupin fall asleep up here, though, since he didn't fancy trying to carry the werewolf down the stairs.

"Pass me a grape, will you, love?" Lupin asked in a lazy voice. Snape obligingly reached over and plucked a grape from the nearby plate of fruit, and held it to Lupin's lips. Lupin took the grape from Snape's fingers, but not before allowing his lips and tongue to brush against Snape's fingers in a deliberately sensual manner. Startled, Snape glanced down at Lupin, and saw that while his eyes were still half-lidded, he no longer looked sleepy at all. Lupin calmly chewed and swallowed the grape, then smiled at Snape in a very predatory manner that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Ah...Lupin..." was all Snape managed to say before Lupin sealed his mouth over Snape's. He felt Lupin's tongue slide into his mouth and playfully dart around his own tongue, thereby distracting Snape from any protests that he might have made. A very long moment later, they came up for air, and only when Snape felt a breeze blowing through his hair did he remember that they were on the Astronomy Tower.

"Lupin!" Snape said indignantly, when he felt the werewolf's hands unfastening his robes and then sliding beneath them. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Why, I thought that would be obvious, Severus," Lupin said coyly, batting his eyelashes at Snape. One of his hands caressed Snape's chest, and the other dropped lower, into his lap. 

Snape's pale face turned beet-red, and he jumped to his feet, shouting, "LUPIN!"

Lupin burst out laughing, and stared up at Snape with that boyish, mischievous grin that he remembered so well from their schoolboy days--Lupin looked more like a Marauder than a Professor at the moment, and Snape didn't know whether he wanted to kiss him or kill him.

"Please get your bloody exhibitionist urges under control, Lupin!" Snape growled, glaring at him.

"My goodness!" Lupin chortled. "And you always talk about how prudish and priggish we Gryffindors are! Have I, a noble Gryffindor prig is the phrase I believe you like to use, actually managed to shock a jaded Slytherin? With such a little thing as a kiss and a grope on the Astronomy Tower? Why, I'm sure that half the students in the school have done as much!"

Snape tried to regain his composure, gathering his robes--and what remained of his dignity--around him. He looked down his nose at Lupin in a superior manner (not difficult, since Lupin was still sitting on the ground), and said coolly, "That is because the students do not have places more private in which to conduct their amorous activities. But we do. I believe it's called a bedroom. This is not quite what I had in mind when you mentioned 'getting some fresh air'." But the werewolf had meant well, after all, and Snape's temper was beginning to cool while certain portions of his body remained quite heated, so he said in a slightly more conciliatory tone, "I do appreciate your attempts to cheer me up, Remus, but perhaps we should go back to the dungeon and continue this in our quarters?"

"But we've never made out on the Astronomy Tower, Severus," Lupin protested.

"There are many things we have never done, Lupin," Snape said dryly. "For example, we have never run through the castle courtyard in our underwear in the middle of winter. That doesn't mean that we should do it."

"James did," Lupin snickered. "When he lost a bet with Sirius."

"Yes, I remember," Snape said. "It was not a pretty sight. I recall wishing that I could Obliviate the sight from my mind."

"James was a handsome lad," Lupin defended his old friend, "if not quite as good-looking as Sirius or Evan. But I suppose that he wasn't really your type."

"You were my type, Lupin," Snape said solemnly. "You and no one else."

Lupin rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Snape. "There were so many things denied to us when we were students, Severus," he said softly. "We couldn't hold hands in public and stroll by the lake, or go to the Yule Ball together, or make out on the Astronomy Tower, or even simply tell our friends that we were seeing each other. So I suppose I'm attempting to make up for lost time."

"Silly werewolf," Snape said gruffly. "We've already gone strolling by the lake, and you made me dance with you at the Yule Ball. And just about everyone in the wizarding world knows that we're a couple now. Exactly how many more of your childhood fantasies am I expected to fulfill?"

But Lupin just smiled tenderly at him, unfazed by Snape's snarkiness, probably because he knew that Snape didn't really mean it. "One more?" Lupin asked. "And can you honestly say that it was never a childhood fantasy of yours?"

Snape's teenage fantasies had not really involved making out in public places, mainly because he had wanted to keep Lupin all to himself, like a miser hoarding gold. Most of his fantasies had contained only himself and Lupin, with no teachers, parents, classmates, and most of all, no annoying Marauders to interfere with them. But he had to admit to himself that the thought of snogging Lupin on the Tower had once or twice crossed his mind during Astronomy class.

"What if Sinistra catches us?" Snape asked. "Or worse, the N.E.W.T. examiners and students--aren't they holding the Astronomy N.E.W.T. up here tonight?"

"Not for another three hours," Lupin assured him. "I checked with Sinistra. And I...er...asked her if I could borrow the Tower for our picnic, so we don't have to worry about her interrupting us, either." 

Snape groaned, wondering if Sinistra had been able to guess that Lupin had wanted the Tower for something more than a picnic--as if the idea of the Head of Slytherin having a picnic wasn't embarrassing enough in itself! "What if a couple of students get the same idea as you, and aren't aware that the Tower is currently occupied?" Snape asked sulkily. 

"Well, everyone should be at dinner for at least another half-hour," Lupin said reasonably. "Assuming we don't waste any more time arguing. And didn't you tell the boys once that it's easier to give in when the werewolf has his mind set on something?"

"Very well," Snape sighed with a show of resignation. "But you owe me one, Lupin."

"I am sure I can find a way to properly repay you, Severus," Lupin whispered, and kissed him.

Snape kissed him back, then quickly pulled away and said, "But let's ward the door first, just to be on the safe side!"

Lupin laughed, pulled out his wand, and cast a warding spell on the door that led to the Tower landing. Then he kissed Snape again and pulled him back down onto the blanket, shoving aside the empty and half-empty plates of food. Then Lupin resumed what he'd been doing earlier, sliding his hands beneath Snape's robes. Snape responded to Lupin's caresses and returned them in kind, but he tensed a little when Lupin started to undress him, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being exposed out in the open (well, under the open sky, anyway, although the walls of the Tower landing surrounded them). Lupin seemed to sense his unease and immediately backed off, then smiled at Snape and began to doff his own robes instead. Snape watched spellbound as Lupin slowly slipped out of his clothing in a deliberately enticing way, then stood up, flung out his arms, and tilted his head back, laughing as the wind blew through his hair and against his bare skin.

"This feels wonderful!" Lupin said. The sun was setting, and Lupin looked beautiful, bathed in its red-golden light.

In fact, he looked so beautiful that Snape was struck speechless, and it took him several tries to get something more than a hoarse croak out of his throat, but finally he managed to say, with something approaching his normal sarcasm, "You're such an exhibitionist, Lupin."

"No one else is around, Severus," Lupin said serenely. "There's no one here to see me but you."

_Good,_ Snape thought possessively. He liked the idea that this beautiful vision of Lupin was only for him and no one else. He silently held out his hand, and Lupin dropped back down to the blanket to take it. Snape pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him, running his hands along Lupin's bare skin as the werewolf gasped and moaned.

After a few minutes, Lupin squirmed away and reached into the basket, then grinned as he held up a small jar of lavender oil. Snape raised an eyebrow and tried not to smile. "So you had this planned all along, Lupin? I should have known."

"I just wanted to be prepared for whatever might happen," Lupin said with a look of wide-eyed innocence--or at least as much innocence as a naked, aroused werewolf could manage, which was to say, not very.

"Come here," Snape said, and Lupin came over and handed him the jar. He coated his hands with the oil as Lupin let out a little whine of anticipation, but Snape did not try to enter him right away. Instead, he slowly caressed Lupin's chest, arms, and thighs, admiring the way that the oil glistened on Lupin's body in the fading sunlight, and enjoying the way that Lupin was whimpering in an increasingly frustrated manner.

"Please, Severus," Lupin whimpered. "At this rate, we'll still be up here when the N.E.W.T. class arrives."

"And you'd probably get a kick out of that, you exhibitionist," Snape retorted tartly as he continued to stroke the inside of Lupin's thigh. But the werewolf did have a point. He did want to finish this before dinner was over and teachers and students started roaming the castle again.

"Severus, please, I--oh!" Lupin's pleas dissolved into wordless moaning and growling as Snape's fingers slipped into him, stretching and preparing him. After a few minutes of this, Lupin groaned impatiently and pushed Snape's hand away. Then he opened Snape's trousers just enough to free his erection, and coated him with what remained of the oil, running his hand slowly up and down the shaft.

"Remus," Snape moaned, wrapping an arm around Lupin's waist and pulling him closer.

"Now who's the impatient one?" Lupin teased, but he crawled onto Snape's lap and slowly lowered himself down, and Snape felt himself sliding into his lover's body. He just sat there for a little while, moaning softly, as Lupin straddled and rode him, allowing himself to drown in the delicious sensation of being sheathed within Lupin's body. And then he heard Lupin growl in his ear, and felt Lupin's teeth nipping at his throat, and suddenly enflamed, he abruptly pushed Lupin onto his back and began thrusting hard into him. Lupin responded with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his legs around Snape's waist and raising his hips to meet each thrust, urging him on with hungry wolfish growls that excited Snape even more. It was not long before Lupin tilted his head back and Snape leaned forward to bite down on his exposed throat, and they both came as Lupin howled.

They lay there panting quietly for a couple of minutes, trying to catch their breath, then Snape said, "I really hope that they couldn't hear you howling all the way over in the Great Hall!"

Lupin laughed, "As long as no one sends the Aurors out to investigate the noise!" Then a look of consternation crossed his face; he obviously regretted bringing up the Aurors when he had been trying to distract Snape from being under house arrest.

But Snape's mood had improved dramatically, and he grinned as he imagined Dawlish and Williamson showing up, hoping to catch Snape in some sort of Dark Magic experiment or Death Eater ritual, and finding instead only an amorous werewolf. Although he probably wouldn't have found it quite so funny if the two Aurors actually had shown up right now, Snape laughed and Lupin smiled in relief.

"Well, we'd better get back to the dungeon before either the Aurors or the N.E.W.T. class shows up," Snape said. He cast a quick cleaning spell on his now rather damp and sticky robes, and Lupin got dressed and packed up the picnic basket.

The werewolf rubbed his back, wincing a little as they made their way down the stairs. "My childhood fantasies never included bruises from lying on a stone floor," he said with a rueful grin.

"This was all your idea, Lupin," Snape informed him in a haughty voice. "You could have had a nice soft bed to lie in, but no, you had to indulge in your little exhibitionist fantasy about the Astronomy Tower. You have no one but yourself to blame."

"That's true, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully. "I'm not complaining."

"Oh, and Remus?" Snape asked.

"Yes, Severus?"

Snape looked away, avoiding Lupin's gaze. "Thank you," he said gruffly.

"You're welcome, Severus," Lupin said tenderly, and Snape felt Lupin's lips brush lightly against his cheek. Then the werewolf quickly moved away before Snape could scold him for "mauling" him in public. Lupin smiled at him mischievously, and although Snape tried to glare at him, he felt his lips curve upwards into a smile.

*** 

Lukas was heading from the Great Hall to his quarters, when he happened to pass by Lupin and Snape. Lupin smiled and nodded at him pleasantly, and Lukas nodded back, then wrinkled his nose. "Phew, Remus, you reek of lavender!"

Lupin grinned widely, and Snape's sallow face turned bright red. "Oh, you know how clumsy I am," Lupin said innocently. "I'm afraid I managed to spill a bottle of lavender oil all over me."

"Yes, I'm not letting the werewolf anywhere near my potion supplies again," Snape snarled, his face still red.

But Lukas's keen sense of smell picked up a faint whiff of something muskier beneath the cloying perfume of the lavender, and that, along with Snape's red face, gave him a much clearer idea than he really wanted of just why Lupin and Snape had been absent from dinner. "That would probably be wise," Lukas said, trying to keep a bland expression fixed on his face.

Snape quickly grabbed Lupin's arm and hustled him off in the direction of the dungeon as Lupin giggled. Lukas shook his head and continued on his way, muttering to himself sourly, "Well, at least someone around here is getting laid."

*** 

Takeshi stifled a yawn as he bottled up a batch of healing salve at St. Mungo's. He was exhausted, but fortunately, it had been a slow day with few patients to tend. He had finally stopped dreaming about the black wolf, but he wasn't sleeping any easier, because he had still dreamt of Aric nearly every night since his drunken visit to the clinic.

Only instead of dreaming of Aric turning into a wolf (or rather, the wolf turning into Aric), he dreamt that he had not stopped Aric and sent him home that night. In his dreams, he gave in to desire and let Aric take him right on top of the desk. Or bent over the desk. And once, even under the desk. Which would probably be rather unpractical and uncomfortable, if not downright impossible in real life, but practical details didn't really matter in a dream. Another time he dreamt that they made love on the examining table, which they had never even gone near during Aric's visit. But it seemed that Takeshi's subconscious had no problem coming up with a seemingly endless variety of places and positions in which to have sex.

The dreams were starting to scare him, because the sex was so good, his climaxes so intense, that he feared no real lover would ever be able to compare. Certainly none of his past encounters could match the intensity of his dreams--not his first love from Japan; not his last serious boyfriend, a former Ravenclaw classmate; and not even his werewolf friends Kian and Ash. He yearned for the dreams, because they were the only way he could be with Aric, and he hated them at the same time, because they were only an illusion. 

There were several illegal types of narcotic potions that would give the users blissful dreams, and he didn't want to end up like the addicts he'd seen treated at St. Mungo's--pathetic, pitiable creatures who preferred false dreams to bleak reality, and who lived only for their next fix. Takeshi feared he was becoming addicted to the dreams, but unlike the potion addicts, he couldn't make the dreams cease simply by not taking a potion. And the dreams always made him feel worse than ever when he awoke to find himself alone, his loneliness and despair magnified by the joy he'd felt in his dreams--rather like drinking a sweet potion that left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

Working himself into a state of exhaustion no longer seemed to stave off the dreams, so he found himself sleeping as little as possible. But he couldn't stay awake forever, of course, so eventually he would fall asleep and the dreams would come. And then he would awaken feeling so lonely and frustrated and angry that what little sleep he got was not restful at all.

"I'll finish up," a voice said, startling Takeshi and nearly causing him to drop the jar of healing salve he was holding. "Why don't you go home early, Mr. Kimura?"

"Healer Smethwyck!" Takeshi exclaimed, looking up to see his supervisor smiling at him in a concerned manner. "But I still have another hour left on my shift."

"It's a slow day; I'm sure we can manage without you." Smethwyck gave him a stern look. "And I want you to go straight home. No stopping by the clinic."

"But I--"

"I've sent Mr. Pye to keep an eye on things for a couple of hours. It's more than a week till the full moon, and there's a good supply of Wolfsbane Potion on hand, so everything should be fine."

"But--"

"If an emergency does come up involving the werewolves, I promise I'll call you," Smethwyck said. "Now go home and get some rest. You won't be doing your patients any good if you're so tired that you put the wrong ingredients into a potion or fall asleep in the middle of treating a patient."

Takeshi had been careful so far not to let his fatigue affect his work, but he knew that Smethwyck was right. "Yes, sir," he said meekly. 

So he signed out and took the Floo home. But when he stepped through the fireplace into his living room, he caught sight of someone sitting on the couch--which should be empty, since he lived alone and wasn't expecting company. He automatically started to chant an incantation as he reached for his wand until he recognized his uninvited guest.

The man sitting on the couch was tall and handsome, with glossy, shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a long kimono of indigo silk dyed with a pattern of stylized white feathers. Ichiro Kimura grinned and said in Japanese, "Is that any way to greet your elder brother?"

"Oniisan!" Takeshi shouted, and ran forward to hug his brother. And as his brother's arms folded around him, Takeshi suddenly felt tears well in his eyes, although he didn't know why. Maybe it was just that his brother's embrace felt so familiar and comforting after everything he'd been through in the past few weeks.

Ichiro must have sensed his mood, because he held Takeshi a little longer and a little more tightly than he normally would have. But then Ichiro released him, and Takeshi blinked back his tears and attempted to smile in a cheerful manner. "What are you doing here, Oniisan? You should have told me you were coming; I nearly hit you with a stunning spell just now! Things are a little tense right now in London, with the anti-werewolf faction up in arms. I thought for a moment that a vigilante had somehow broken into my apartment."

"I'm sorry," Ichiro said. "I didn't mean to startle you. I thought I would pay you a surprise visit, but I should have realized you would be nervous, since you wrote to me about people throwing rocks and eggs at the clinic in your last letter. But you did a good job on your protective wards; they're all still intact. I was only able to enter because you had enspelled them to allow family members to pass through the wards."

"So why are you here, Niisan?" Takeshi asked, although he could probably guess at the answer. "Isn't everyone busy getting ready for Chizuru-hime's wedding? Okaasan said that your family has been commissioned to make the robes for the bride and groom and their attendants." Ichiro was married to the daughter of the Head Weaver of the crane clan. A skilled weaver himself, he had met his future bride while working as an apprentice under her mother.

"I can spare an hour or two to visit my dear little brother," Ichiro said with a smile. "Portkey travel is instantaneous, after all. As for why I'm here--our parents are worried about you, Takeshi-kun. They say that you haven't stopped by the restaurant for over two weeks, and Otoosan says you looked very tired when he helped you set the wards on your werewolf friend's bookstore. Even your supervisor at St. Mungo's seemed concerned about you, when I contacted him and asked if he could send you home early today." 

"Ah, so that's why he sent me home early," Takeshi murmured, feeling a little chagrined. Even his boss was conspiring with his family against him--for his own good, of course.

"I can see why they're worried," Ichiro said. "You look terrible; you have dark circles under your eyes, and you look like you haven't slept in days."

"I'm fine," Takeshi said, not very convincingly.

"Won't you tell me what's wrong, Take-chan?" Ichiro asked gently, using his old childish nickname for Takeshi, which he had not used in many years.

And that was all it took for Takeshi to break down and spill out the whole story of Aric and the betrothal and Roderick Dietrich's stroke, and even the dreams, as embarrassing as it was to discuss such a thing with his brother. He wasn't sure how much of this Ichiro actually understood, as he kept switching back and forth from Japanese to English, and was sobbing between words by the end. But Ichiro listened patiently, saying nothing, but nodding occasionally, and when Takeshi finally finished speaking, he wrapped his arms around his younger brother and held him close, allowing him to weep on his shoulder.

By the time the tears finally stopped flowing, Takeshi was exhausted and his eyes and throat were sore, but strangely enough, he did feel a little better. He lifted his head from his brother's shoulder, and took off his glasses and wiped them on his robe. He then started to wipe his face on his sleeve, but Ichiro conjured up a handkerchief and handed it to him.

"Why didn't you tell us what was wrong earlier?" Ichiro gently chided.

"I'm sorry," Takeshi said, wiping his face. "I didn't want to worry you. And I didn't really want to talk about it. It hurts so much to talk about Aric, or even just to think about him. Only I can't stop thinking about him. And I should have known that Okaasan and Otoosan would be worried about me. I'm sorry."

"You have been searching for your true love for most of your life," Ichiro said in a musing tone. Takeshi flushed; his family often called him a romantic and gently teased him for his fondness for fairy tales. "But as it often happens, it seems that love found you when you were not looking for it."

"This isn't how it was supposed to be!" Takeshi wailed. "I never thought that when I found my true love, he'd be engaged to someone else!"

"Not all fairy tales end happily, Take-chan," Ichiro said quietly. "But this boy, he does love you?"

"Yes," Takeshi said miserably. "For all the good that does. It would be easier to let go of him if he didn't."

"And you believe that his family has deceived him?" Ichiro asked.

"I think so," Takeshi replied. "I couldn't question the staff too closely without making them curious as to why I was asking, so I can't be absolutely certain. But I believe that Aric arrived at the hospital after the Healers had already stabilized his grandfather."

"Then perhaps you should tell him this?" Ichiro suggested.

"I couldn't!" Takeshi protested. "I don't want to tear him apart, between his family and me! And won't it seem like I'm bad-mouthing his family in a desperate attempt to win him over?"

"If he truly loves you, he will not think so ill of you," Ichiro said.

Takeshi wasn't so sure. He loved Aric, but he was also aware of his beloved's shortcomings: his prejudices and his short temper. The first reaction of a typical pureblood when something went wrong was to look for someone else to blame, as the Dietrich family had blamed Theodore for Rafe's death. And Aric loved his family, and was a little scared of his feelings for Takeshi. He might well react instinctively and lash out against the bearer of bad news.

"He is scared," Takeshi said. "The pureblood elite generally do not react very well to change, and I have unintentionally turned his world upside-down. But it isn't just that. He will be hurt if I tell him that his family has deceived him, and I don't want to cause him any more pain than I already have."

"And you don't think that it will hurt him to be trapped in a loveless marriage for the rest of his life?" Ichiro asked pointedly. "What are you really afraid of, Takeshi?"

"I'm afraid that he'll still choose his family over me," Takeshi whispered. "I'm afraid that I will lose him a second time. I don't know how many more times I can stand to have my heart broken."

"He is already lost to you now," Ichiro said bluntly. "What do you have left to lose?" When Takeshi remained silent, Ichiro added, "Sometimes you can't just wait for love to come to you, Takeshi-kun. Sometimes you have to fight for it."

"It's asking a lot of him, to give up his family for me," Takeshi sighed. "I don't know that I would be able to do the same thing for him."

"It will still be his choice," Ichiro said. "I can't promise that he will choose you."

"Aren't you supposed to be cheering me up?" Takeshi asked wryly.

"But he should make his decision based on the truth and not a lie," Ichiro continued. "If someone that you loved deceived you, wouldn't you want to know the truth even if it hurt?"

"Yes," Takeshi admitted reluctantly.

"By trying to protect him, you are taking the choice out of his hands," Ichiro said. "Tell Aric the truth and let him make his own decision."

"Yes, Niisan," Takeshi said meekly. "But he's in the middle of taking his exams right now. I'll talk to him after the N.E.W.T.s are over. I don't want him failing his N.E.W.T.s because he was too upset to concentrate."

"Fine, but don't wait too long," Ichiro cautioned. "Or you'll end up watching him walk down the aisle with that girl Miranda."

Takeshi felt a sudden stab of fear and pain at the thought. "Yes, Niisan."

Ichiro hugged him and said in a kinder voice, "I know this is hard for you, Take-chan. The blood of our ancestors flows strong in you. That can be a curse as well as a gift."

Which reminded Takeshi that he had not been entirely forthcoming with Aric about certain other things as well. "Do you think he would still love me if he knew?" Takeshi asked in a small voice.

"If he doesn't, then he is not worthy of you," Ichiro said firmly. He hugged his brother once more and said, "I have to go now. You were right; we are busy preparing for the wedding. But write to me, or take the Portkey to see me, if you need someone to talk to. And go show your face at the Sakura so that Okaasan will stop worrying."

"I will, Oniisan."

Ichiro smiled at his brother tenderly. "And when all this is over, come visit me in Japan. Hopefully with your young man by your side. But if not, at least let the people who love you share the burden of your sorrow."

"Thank you, Oniisan," Takeshi said, giving his brother one last hug. "I promise I will come visit you no matter what happens. But I cannot leave until I am sure that my werewolf friends will be safe."

"If worse comes to worst, then bring them with you," Ichiro said with a grin.

"A pack of wolves running loose among the cranes?" Takeshi laughed. "That will cause some feathers to fly!"

Ichiro laughed as well, then departed through the Floo, to go back to the Sakura and take the Portkey home to Japan. And Takeshi found that while the thought of losing Aric still hurt, he didn't feel quite as alone as he had before. Although he had been trying to conceal his pain from his family, he was glad now that his brother had come.

*** 

Takeshi decided to attend the Quidditch Cup finals at Hogwarts; the N.E.W.T.s would be over by then, and it would be a good excuse to stop by the school and talk to Aric. What he had to say needed to be said in person, not through a letter. It was not unusual for alumni to attend school games and chat with old friends and teachers, and since he was friends with Remus and Lukas, his visit should not arouse any undue suspicions. Perhaps Remus could even arrange for him to discreetly meet Aric in private; he knew that the werewolf would like nothing better than to play matchmaker for them.

Remus was an optimist; deep in his heart, he believed that love would triumph over all. But Takeshi was not nearly so optimistic, and he was dreading the thought of facing Aric. Because right now he could cling to a fragile thread of hope that Aric might change his mind when he learned that his family had tricked him into agreeing to the betrothal. But once he spoke to Aric, it would all be over, for good or for ill. If Aric decided to remain with his family and marry Miranda, then this time his decision would be final, and although it was cowardly of him, Takeshi would rather live with this agonizing uncertainty than lose hope altogether.

And Aric might be angry, if he didn't want to believe that his family had lied to him; he might choose to blame Takeshi rather than admit to himself that his family had betrayed him. And while Takeshi had never lied to Aric, he had deceived by omission, by failing to tell Aric certain things about himself and his background. A casual friend or a one night stand did not need to know these things, but a lifemate did. Aric deserved to know the whole truth before he made his decision, even if it turned him against Takeshi in the end. But if they had to part, he did not want his last vision of his beloved's face to be one filled with anger and contempt. And then he flushed with shame as he remembered that their last meeting had ended in angry words, at least on his part. Those words had not been entirely unjustified, but still...perhaps, if nothing else, he could at least say goodbye properly to Aric this time.

"Takeshi!" a voice shouted, breaking his train of thought. "Hey, Takeshi!"

Takeshi blinked and saw that Augustus Pye was standing in front of him. "Yes, Augustus?" he asked politely.

"I called your name about five times!" Pye exclaimed. "I thought for a minute that maybe you had been stunned or petrified!" Then the young Trainee Healer grinned. "Or that you'd fallen asleep standing up. You've been looking awfully tired lately."

"No, I was just lost in thought," Takeshi said with a smile. "What can I do for you, Augustus?"

"I know it's short notice, but can you please switch days off with me?" Pye asked. He clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please? You would be a real lifesaver! I really need next Friday off."

"Friday?" Takeshi asked. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I was planning to attend the Hogwarts Quidditch finals."

"Please?" Pye begged. "It's really important, and no one else is able to switch with me! I promise I'll make it up to you!"

"What's so special about Friday?" Takeshi asked.

Pye blushed. "You see...there's this girl I'm dating, and it's her mother's birthday. They're having a party for her that day, and it will look bad if I don't show up. My girlfriend's family is very well-to-do, and I get the impression that they think she could do a little better than a Trainee Healer. Skipping the party won't make me look any better in their eyes."

"Well..." Takeshi said hesitantly. He had been mentally preparing himself to face Aric at the match, and he didn't really want to change his plans, but he could certainly feel a bit of sympathy for someone who was also having problems in his lovelife.

"Come on, Takeshi," Pye wheedled, sensing a weakening in the mediwizard's resolve. "Ravenclaw isn't even playing in the finals this year."

Takeshi couldn't tell him the real reason that he wanted to go to the match, of course. "No, but it will be Harry Potter's final game at Hogwarts. That's certainly worth seeing. And I wanted to visit Remus and Lukas, and say hello to Professor Flitwick."

"You can go see the Professors anytime; it doesn't have to be at the match," Pye said. "I know it's rotten of me to ask you to miss the match, but I have a cousin who goes to Hogwarts, and I promise I'll have him record it for you. And I'll volunteer at the clinic to make it up to you--I'll go in on my days off for an entire month! Please, please, please, Takeshi--I really need to make a good impression on her parents!"

Takeshi sighed. "Is it serious between you and this girl, then?"

A silly, lovestruck grin spread across Pye's face. "I think she's the future Mrs. Pye," he said. 

Well, Takeshi supposed that he didn't really have to talk to Aric at the match. He could stop by Hogwarts later that night after he got off work. Or maybe the next day. Part of him was relieved to have an excuse to postpone what was likely to be his final confrontation with Aric. And it would be good to have a substitute to fill in at the clinic, especially since he'd promised his parents that he'd stop pulling so many double shifts. 

Pye was a decent sort who didn't object to treating werewolves, and he did volunteer at the clinic for a few hours here and there, although not as regularly as Takeshi did. The only problem was that his lack of a proper bedside manner tended to put his patients off. The young Healer was so enthusiastic about his work that he tended to view his patients as interesting case subjects, and the werewolves in particular did not like being viewed as lab experiments. 

He didn't mean any harm by it, and his enthusiasm was motivated by a desire to help his patients, but he sometimes forgot that his patients were often frightened and traumatized (since he worked in Creature-Induced Injuries), and that they might need some gentle reassurance from their Healer just as much as they needed his healing skills. But Smethwyck was confident that Pye would mature with time, and learn to temper his enthusiasm with compassion.

"Well," Takeshi said, with a great show of reluctance, "I usually visit my relatives in Japan during the summer, and I do need someone to look after the clinic while I'm gone..."

"I'll do it!" Pye said eagerly. "You can count on me!"

"...but I'll probably be gone for two months, not one."

"No problem!" Pye promised recklessly.

Takeshi had to smile, in spite of his worries. "You shouldn't be so quick to agree to everything I say, Augustus. If I were a Slytherin, I would be taking shameless advantage of you."

Pye grinned and shrugged. "What can I say? I'm in a bind, and you know it. Besides, I don't mind helping out at the clinic."

"All right," Takeshi said. "I'll work your shift next Friday if you'll help out at the clinic this summer. I hope this girl is worth it."

"Oh, she definitely is!" Pye said dreamily. "Thanks, Takeshi!" 

"I'm probably getting the better end of the deal, but you're welcome," Takeshi replied. The Healer walked off, whistling cheerfully, and Takeshi stared after him with a wistful smile, wishing that his own problems could be solved so easily.

*** 

But soon Takeshi had bigger problems to worry about. The day before the Quidditch match, Kyra and Brian showed up to see him at the hospital, looking distraught, angry, and tearful. After he heard what they had to say, he sent them back home and warned them to stay put and to tell the other werewolves not to leave the house, either. Then he contacted Morrigan De Lacy and Tonks. And finally, grateful that Pye owed him a favor, he asked the Trainee Healer to cover for him, got permission from Smethwyck to leave, and took the Floo to Hogwarts.

*** 

Lukas received a message that afternoon to report to the Headmaster's office, and found Takeshi waiting there, looking pale, frightened, guilty, and close to tears. Dumbledore, Lupin, and Snape were there as well, looking very concerned.

"Oh no," Lukas groaned. "What have the Aurors done this time? Has there been another werewolf attack?"

"I'm so sorry, Lukas!" Takeshi cried, bowing deeply in a gesture of contrition, so low that the end of his braid brushed against the floor. "It's all my fault!"

It alarmed Lukas to see the normally calm and composed mediwizard in a state of near-hysteria, and he grabbed Takeshi by the arm and pulled him up--a bit more roughly than he'd intended--and growled, "Stop that and just tell me what happened!"

"It's Ash," Takeshi said, his eyes filled with tears. "He's been arrested for selling contraband goods!"

"WHAT?!" roared Lukas

Takeshi flinched a little, but remained where he was standing, which might have impressed Lukas if he had not been consumed with anger and fear. Even his werewolves would back away cringing in fear when he was that angry.

"I'm so sorry, Lukas!" Takeshi repeated.

Snape stepped forward and said in a cool voice, "This is cause for concern, of course, but I fail to see why Mr. Kimura should be held accountable for Mr. Randolf being arrested."

Lukas wasn't really angry at Takeshi, but he could see that Snape thought he was, and was prepared to defend his former student if Lukas should attack him. So the werewolf leader released Takeshi's arm and backed off a few paces, and beneath his rage and fear, he felt a spark of amusement, that the Potions Master, whom the students lived in fear of, should be so protective of those very same students. Poor Snape; he would be mortified if he knew what Lukas was thinking, so the werewolf kept this observation to himself.

"It is my fault, Professor," Takeshi said in a low voice, looking guilty and miserable. "I gave Ash the video games he was selling. My brother sends them from Japan, and I pass them on to Ash."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You're involved in Muggle merchandise smuggling, Mr. Kimura? And you were always such a model student. I'm positively shocked." But although his voice was stern, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were trying not to smile.

"I don't understand," Lupin said in a puzzled voice. "Video games might be frowned upon by the more traditional wizards, but they're not illegal."

"Ash was selling them without a license," Takeshi said. "But that's not the main problem; normally such an offense would only merit a fine. But one of the games Ash sold was...er...I believe that the Muggle term is a 'first person shooter' game." The other wizards all stared at him blankly, and he explained, "Basically you take on the role of the lead character and shoot your enemies with a gun."

"How crude," Snape said disdainfully.

"The game has a plastic gun as a controller, that you point at the TV screen to aim and shoot," Takeshi continued. "And that's the problem. Ash has been arrested for selling illegal Muggle weaponry." 

"That's ridiculous!" Lukas shouted. "For selling a toy gun?"

"The game is a somewhat realistic simulation game, where you start off shooting at targets and graduate to shooting at people," Takeshi said, grimacing slightly. "In poor taste, perhaps, but not illegal. But the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office is taking the position that the game is a learning device that teaches people how to shoot, and therefore falls under the ban on Muggle weaponry."

"Dawlish and Williamson are behind this," Lukas growled.

"I believe so," Takeshi said. "Although the Aurors are only supposed to deal with Dark Magic, not illegal Muggle devices. I can't prove it, of course, but I'm sure that they're the ones who tipped off the people at Muggle Artifacts about Ash, and convinced them to arrest him."

"Why was that idiot out selling video games in the first place?" Lukas demanded. "I told the pack to lie low until this mess was over!"

"Kyra says that Ash got a message from one of his customers, who wanted that game and a few others, and was willing to pay double the normal price for them," Takeshi said. "It was someone that Ash had done business with on a regular basis, so he wasn't suspicious. Even then, he wouldn't have disobeyed your orders, but with so many of the pack out of work, he thought they needed the extra money..."

"That idiot!" Lukas shouted, slamming his fist down on Dumbledore's desk. The force of that blow knocked over a picture frame and a candy dish that were sitting on the desk, sending several lemon drops rolling across the desk and onto the floor. Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, who had been dozing quietly in the corner, woke with a start and shot up from his perch with an indignant squawk. He flapped around the room in agitated manner, before allowing Dumbledore to coax him back down and soothe him with a piece of candy.

"Kyra and the others tried to stop him, but you know how stubborn Ash is," Takeshi said apologetically. 

"Yes, I know," Lukas sighed. "Almost as stubborn as his pack leader."

"I'm very sorry. If I hadn't given him the games--" Takeshi started to say.

"It's not your fault," Lukas interrupted. "He was working in the black market long before he met you. He would not have been arrested if he had stayed put at home like he was supposed to."

"I called Ms. De Lacy and Tonks," Takeshi said. "They're both still at the Ministry, trying to get him freed." He started to look guilty again. "Tonks says that he's refused to tell them where he got the games from."

"If the games are labeled in Japanese, I doubt that it would take a genius to figure it out," Snape said dryly. "And since no one has come to arrest you yet, they probably don't care. They don't want you, Mr. Kimura. They want a werewolf, someone close to Diggory, that they can use against him. Although I would keep a low profile if I were you. They might start coming after the werewolves' allies next."

"I'm not afraid," Takeshi said. "Healer Smethwyck will stand up for me, and the Japanese council of wizards won't simply stand by and let me be thrown in Azkaban. Both my parents come from families of old lineage and high rank back home. Perhaps it would be better if I took responsibility for the games instead of Ash; I don't think the Ministry would risk causing an international incident over it."

Lupin gave the mediwizard a startled and curious look, and Lukas was suddenly very curious himself. The Kimuras never talked much about their family back home, and he'd had no idea that they were wizards of high rank. Although the Sakura was a popular and profitable restaurant, shopkeepers and merchants were usually regarded as "middle class" at best by the pureblood elite, no matter how prosperous they were.

Snape did not look particularly surprised, though, and come to think of it, he had once mentioned something vague about Haruko belonging to an old and noble clan. "That would not be wise, Mr. Kimura," Snape said sternly. "Even if you took all the blame, I don't think that they would release Mr. Randolf. Even if you provided him with the games, he was still the one who was caught selling them. And now that the Dark Lord is defeated, the Ministry no longer needs its Japanese allies. I don't think that they would imprison you if the council protested, but they would likely deport you, and Mr. Randolf would still be in prison."

"Then what should we do, Professor?" Takeshi asked humbly. Before Snape could reply, green flames flared up in the fireplace and Morrigan entered the room.

"What happened?" Lukas asked anxiously. "Were you able to get Ash released?"

"No, I am sorry, I was not," Morrigan said wearily. "A hearing will be held next week, after the full moon has passed, and I will be allowed to argue for bail or a dismissal then. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement does not want a rogue werewolf running around during the full moon."

"Ash isn't a rogue!" Lukas protested hotly.

"I know that, and you know that!" Morrigan snapped; it seemed that her patience had been tested by the incident as well. "But the Ministry does not. Dawlish and Williamson have been playing on their colleagues' prejudice and paranoia, and the idea of a werewolf is scary enough on its own, let alone a werewolf wielding Muggle firearms." As Lukas opened his mouth to protest again, Morrigan quickly added, "And you don't have to tell me that it was only a toy gun! It's a ridiculous charge, and against anyone else, it would have been immediately dismissed. But Mr. Randolf is not anyone else. He is a werewolf, and right now werewolves are objects of fear and suspicion, however unfair that may be."

"That meeting was a setup, wasn't it?" Takeshi asked. 

Morrigan nodded. "Mr. Randolf's client was caught in possession of illegal Muggle artifacts, and he agreed to help lure Mr. Randolf into a trap in order to avoid being prosecuted."

"Can you convince the Ministry to drop the charges when the hearing takes place, Morrigan?" Lupin asked, looking concerned. "And will Ash be safe until then?"

"There are no more Dementors in Azkaban," Morrigan replied. "And I think that Dawlish and Williamson will want to keep him alive for now, if only as a hostage to use against Lukas. I believe he will be safe enough, at least until the hearing. But I don't know if I can get him released."

"And Arthur is unable to help?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Morrigan nodded. "Most of the Ministry already believes that he has been giving the werewolves special treatment, thereby putting humanity at risk. Miss Tonks says that a petition has been circulating around the Ministry, calling for Arthur Weasley to be removed as Minister. I think it's very likely that a conclave of the Wizengamot will be called for within a few weeks to remove Arthur and select a new Minister."

"We can't let that happen!" Lupin cried. 

"You can't stop it," Morrigan said. "Not unless you expose the truth behind the so-called werewolf attacks."

The time had come for Lukas to make his choice, and it seemed that he would have to choose practicality. He felt a pang of regret that he would not be able to kill Amos after all. But Cynric and Anya were dead, and nothing could bring them back, while Ash was still alive, and it was his duty to protect his pack.

"I might be able to help," Lukas said, with a bitter little smile. "I think I can get Amos to back off, at least. And depending on how much influence he has over Dawlish and Williamson, perhaps he can bring them to heel as well."

Everyone stared at him in bewilderment. "What are you talking about, Diggory?" Snape asked, sounding both confused and annoyed. "If you have something on your uncle, why haven't you used it before this?"

"It's some information that only came to light recently," Lukas said.

"Does this have something to do with that en--?" Morrigan started to ask.

"Shh," Lukas said, laying a finger across his lips. "Lawyer/client confidentiality, Morrigan."

Lupin, Snape, Dumbledore, and Takeshi turned to stare at Morrigan, who fell silent, looking unhappy and worried. "What are the two of you talking about?" Lupin asked.

Lukas knew he ought to tell them, but he needed to keep this to himself for awhile longer. He knew that Amos wouldn't talk in front of witnesses, and he wanted to know what had really happened to Cynric. He thought that there was a chance that Amos would actually tell him the truth if they were alone and Lukas confronted him with the papers.

"This is between me and Amos," Lukas said. "If it works out, I'll tell you about it afterwards."

"Lukas, this really isn't wise," Morrigan said, still looking worried. "If you have some sort of hold over Amos, fine, but let me handle the negotiations."

"No," Lukas said firmly. "I need to handle this on my own. Remember my instructions to you."

"Lukas!" Dumbledore called after him as he turned away. The old wizard gave him a stern look, as if addressing a recalcitrant student rather than a teacher. "We are your friends, Lukas, and we wish to help you and your pack. We will be more effective working together than alone."

Everyone in Hogwarts, students and teachers alike, deferred to Dumbledore, even Snape, however much he sometimes grumbled about it. But Lukas was the leader of a wolf pack, and he bowed to no man, not even the most powerful mage in the wizarding world. "This is between me and Amos," he said adamantly, then turned and walked out of the room before anyone could argue with him further.

*** 

"Morrigan?" Lupin asked. "What's going on? What sort of information does Lukas have? It sounds like he intends to blackmail Amos!"

"I have to respect my client's confidentiality, Remus," Morrigan said unhappily. "And to be honest, I don't really know much more than you do. But keep a close eye on him; I'm afraid that he might do something foolish." Then she exited through the Floo before Lupin could question her further.

"Lukas is very stubborn," Takeshi sighed. "All the werewolves are, actually, but Lukas is the worst of the lot. I suppose that's partly why he became the pack leader. Some of the werewolves resisted his efforts to build a pack in the early years, but none of them could hold out against his determination."

"He is a great deal like his father," Dumbledore said, shaking his head and smiling sadly. "Although he is more serious and less mischievous than Cynric was, but I suppose that's not surprising, considering the life he has led. Well, we will have to do as Ms. De Lacy said, and try to watch over Lukas until we can figure out what is going on."

"Great," Snape grumbled. "Now I get to baby-sit two werewolves instead of one."

*** 

A short time later, an owl arrived at the Diggory home and dropped off a letter for Amos. His face turned pale when he opened and read it:

Dear Uncle,

Have you looked at the family histories recently? If you have, then perhaps you might have noticed that there are a couple of pages missing from Lord Cyrus Diggory's diary. I've enclosed a copy of one of the pages to jog your memory. If you don't want this information published in the Daily Prophet, call off your attack dogs. I want the Aurors to release Ash Randolf, and I want them to stop harassing me and my pack. You will also give up your claim to the estate and cede the title to me. Meet me by the lake after the Quidditch match tomorrow to give me your answer, and make sure you come alone. And just to warn you--I've arranged for this information to be made public in the event of my untimely demise. I think that Rita Skeeter would find it fascinating, don't you?

Your loving nephew,  
Cyril

*** 

Amos stared at the piece of paper enclosed with the letter, which showed a hand-drawn diagram of the Diggory family tree from several hundred years ago. There was a name on it that been removed from the official family tree tapestry hanging up in Amos's study.

"Dear?" Helen Diggory asked anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

"Er...nothing, dear," Amos replied, hastily folding up the pages and shoving them into his pocket. "Something's come up at the Ministry, and I need to consult with Williamson."

"Again?" Helen asked disapprovingly. "You've been putting in a lot of overtime lately."

"This won't take long, dear," Amos assured her, kissing her on the cheek.

"Well, try not to be too late for dinner," Helen sighed.

Amos took the Floo to Williamson's flat, and the Auror asked, "What's the matter, Amos? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"We have a problem," Amos said in a tense voice.

"Well, what is it?" Williamson asked, beginning to look worried.

"Ian...we're friends, right?" Amos asked nervously, loathe to reveal information that his family had kept secret for hundreds of years. "If I tell you something in confidence, you'll keep it a secret, won't you? On your honor as a Gryffindor and an Auror?"

"Of course," Williamson said, looking hurt. "Haven't I trusted you? Haven't I put myself at risk to help you? If you told anyone what I've been doing, I would be sent to Azkaban."

And so would Amos, since he was Williamson's co-conspirator, but it did make him feel better. They were both in this together. They were both equally guilty, at least in the eyes of the law. He pulled out the letter and showed it to Williamson. 

"What is this?" the Auror asked in a puzzled voice as he looked at the page that showed the family tree. "Obviously it has some significance to you."

"Do you see this name?" Amos asked, pointing at one of the branches of the tree.

"Cynthia Diggory," Williamson said. "Daughter of Cecil, sister of Cyrus. Never married and died young, when she was only twenty years old."

"That name is not on the official family tapestry," Amos said. "Lord Cecil had it removed after she died. All traces of her existence were wiped out to hide the family's shame, except for a couple of pages in her brother's diary."

Williamson's eyes widened; the Auror was quick at putting two and two together. "She was a werewolf, wasn't she? The lycanthropy comes from the Diggory side of the family, after all. Have you known all along?"

"We didn't know at first," Amos replied. "The information was so well-concealed that later generations knew nothing about it. But Cynric went digging through the old family histories, and he finally found a reference to Cynthia in Lord Cyrus's personal diary, which had been stored away from the rest of the histories in a trunk in the attic. There is another page after this one, that details Cynthia's story. Her family kept her locked up in the attic to hide her away from the rest of the world."

"To protect the family's reputation," Williamson said.

"Yes, but also for her own protection," Amos said. "Back in those days, werewolves were automatically put to death, even if they had never attacked anyone. She eventually went mad from the isolation and the pain of the transformations, and she committed suicide on her twentieth birthday. She jumped out of the attic window, broke her neck, and died instantly. But Cyrus mourned his sister, and he couldn't bear for her to be completely forgotten. So he secretly recorded her name and her pitiful tale in his diary, but it was forgotten, at least until Cynric went digging up the past. Damn him, why couldn't he have left well enough alone?"

"He blackmailed your parents," Williamson said. "This is why they didn't disown him."

Amos nodded. "And now his son is trying to blackmail me!"

"Like father, like son," Williamson said, then smiled slyly. "But still, this could work to our advantage, Amos. You have a chance to rid yourself of your nephew once and for all."

"What do you mean?" Amos asked.

"You will go meet him by the lake as he requested," Williamson said. "But I will have hidden myself there beforehand. And I can testify later as to what happened: Cyril lured you out to the lake, saying he wanted to discuss a settlement of the lawsuit. But it was a trap; knowing that he would likely lose the trial, he attacked you and tried to kill you with Dark Magic. But fortunately, you did not trust Cyril, and asked me to secretly observe the meeting. I battled with Cyril, and he perished in the fight, but fortunately, I was able to save your life." The Auror grinned. "At least, that will be the official version of events."

Amos hesitated, faced with a life-altering decision. Despite what Cyril thought, Amos had not murdered Cynric. He might have lied, he might have faked Cyril's death and given him over to the Gravenors to be hidden away, but he had never killed anyone before. And if he did this, he would be crossing over a line, unseen but still inexorably drawn, from which there could be no turning back. He would have blood on his hands--the blood of his brother's son.

But if he did not, then he would have to either turn over the estate to Cyril or let the family's shame be made public. And then he would have broken his vow to his parents that he would protect the family name, and everything that he and his parents had suffered, all the secrets he had kept for so many years, would be for naught. After struggling with himself for a few minutes, Amos made his decision.

"Very well," Amos said. "I will help you. But what about Cyril's threat, that the information will be made public if he dies?"

"Don't worry," Williamson said reassuringly. "He probably left it with his lawyer. I can break into her office and steal the papers before she has a chance to send them to Skeeter. Maybe I can even get a warrant to raid her office, if I say that she was Cyril's accomplice. We could say that he implicated her--and Snape, too--with his last dying breath."

"Will people really buy that?" Amos asked dubiously. "Weasley--"

"Arthur Weasley's days are numbered," Williamson said confidently. "In fact, this will likely be the straw that breaks the camel's back and gets him removed from office. Trust me, Amos. I'll get those papers back for you."

*** 

In truth, it didn't really matter to Williamson whether Amos's secret was exposed or not. As far as he was concerned, it was sort of like locking the barn door after the horse was stolen--everyone already knew that Cyril Diggory was a werewolf, and that there was a fifty percent chance that he had inherited it from his father's side of the family. He doubted that it would come as a big surprise to anyone in the wizarding world to have that guess confirmed. What really concerned Williamson was using Cyril Diggory to get to Snape.

Since the Snape family had been backing Cyril's claim to the title, they would look guilty by association when the werewolf was caught trying to murder Amos. And perhaps Williamson could plant some false evidence on his body that might further implicate Snape, perhaps a vial of the Werewolf Potion. If Williamson could manage to break into Morrigan De Lacy's office, he could plant some false evidence there, too, as well as steal back Amos's papers, but he would have to be careful; the office was likely to be heavily warded, and it would look very bad if he should be caught breaking into it. He would get the papers back if he could, but he didn't intend to ruin his all his hard work and carefully laid out plans just to soothe Amos's pride.

But Amos seemed to believe his reassurances, which was good because Amos was a crucial part of his plan. If Williamson simply killed the werewolf, it might arouse suspicions, even if he claimed that it was in self-defense. But if Amos testified that Cyril had attacked first, most people would believe him--especially if he had visible wounds as proof of the attack. 

Williamson had not yet informed Amos of that part of his plan, and did not intend to until after they confronted Cyril by the lake, since he suspected that Amos would object; the man was definitely not Auror material. Williamson intended to inflict some showy but nonfatal wounds on Amos, and possibly on himself as well, to make their story more believable. It was absolutely imperative that no one suspect that they had simply murdered Cyril. (Although in Williamson's mind, it was nothing more than putting down a Dark Creature, as one might put down a rabid dog.)

Well, Snape and his friends would probably suspect the truth, but no one was likely to believe them. Not with Amos posing as the tragic hero, who had first lost his son to the Death Eaters, and then was nearly killed by his werewolf nephew. Maybe Cyril's death would even be enough to provoke Snape and Lupin into seeking revenge, which would then allow Williamson to arrest them. Which reminded him, he would have to make sure that the Aurors watched Cyril's pack closely. They were likely to go mad with grief and anger, and if they went on a rampage, that would certainly be a good excuse to arrest them, but he didn't want them actually killing anyone, either.

So Williamson sent an anxious Amos back home, reassuring him that everything would be fine, and continued plotting and preparing for his confrontation with Cyril Diggory tomorrow...

*** 

Stewart Ackerley had been watching Master Diggory and reporting on his actions to Williamson as the Auror had requested. He was a little confused, because he hadn't thought that the werewolf leader was associated with the Death Eaters, but if Williamson said he was, then it must be so. Williamson had pointed out that Diggory was friendly with Snape...except that Stewart got the impression that it was more that he was friendly with Lupin, and tolerated Snape because he was Lupin's lover. Or maybe he had befriended Lupin as an excuse to associate with Snape. Because although Stewart disliked Lupin--or more accurately, disliked his choice of lovers--he could not by any stretch of the imagination picture Lupin as a Death Eater. He did, however, think that Lupin was gullible and softhearted, and blind to what Snape and the Slytherins really were.

At least Snape was currently under house arrest, and Williamson promised that soon he would be locked up for good. That made Stewart gloat, but at the same time he felt a little uneasy. He had looked at the books he had stolen from the library before sending them to the Auror, and from the description of the incriminating evidence found in the Shrieking Shack that was reported in the Daily Prophet, Stewart was able to figure out that Williamson had used the books to frame Snape. That wasn't quite what Stewart had had in mind; he had wanted to expose Snape's real crimes, not invent new ones. Framing someone didn't seem like the sort of thing an Auror should be doing...

Except that Stewart himself had framed Theodore Snape for the Porvora attack on Aric Dietrich shortly before Christmas vacation. He had not felt any remorse at the time, but now he squirmed in his seat as a faint stirring of guilt pricked at his conscience. Although he still hated Theodore, there had been nothing noble behind that attack, which had been more about getting petty revenge on Dietrich than trying to expose Theodore as a Death Eater.

But the Snapes, both Theodore and the Professor, deserved it, didn't they? Did it really matter that Snape was being punished for a crime he didn't commit when he had probably committed plenty of other crimes that he had never been punished for? The Death Eaters and the Slytherins didn't play by the rules, after all, as Isabelle had once pointed out. So why shouldn't the Aurors and the R.A. resort to unorthodox methods in order to expose them?

But then...if Snape had not made the Werewolf Potion, then who was behind the recent werewolf attacks? Had Master Diggory or his pack committed them, or had Williamson taken advantage of the actions of a couple of rogue werewolves? But no, a normal werewolf could not be responsible for the attacks, since the the victims had not been turned. Could Williamson have staged those attacks in addition to planting the false evidence in the Shrieking Shack? But Williamson was an Auror; surely he would not hurt innocent people, not even to arrest Snape...would he?

While Stewart was wrestling with his conscience, an owl arrived with a letter from Williamson. The Auror wouldn't go into details but he promised that "something big" was going to happen tomorrow. He said that he suspected Master Diggory was going to "make a move" after the game, and he didn't want anyone else interfering and possibly ruining his chance to arrest the werewolf. He told Stewart to make sure that nobody--particularly Lupin, who had been sticking close to Diggory since he had been accused of being involved in the werewolf attacks--followed Diggory after the game, and that he should provide a distraction if necessary. He said he believed that this would be the first step in taking down Snape and the other Death Eaters, and that soon he would have them all in custody. He also praised Stewart's efforts on his behalf and said that he had the makings of a fine Auror, and promised to recommend him for a position when he graduated from Hogwarts.

His excitement at receiving the letter caused Stewart to forget about his doubts, at least for the moment. Williamson was an experienced Auror; of course he knew much better than Stewart what must be done. Things probably just seemed confusing because Stewart wasn't seeing the whole picture; there was a lot of information that Williamson had to keep secret so as not to give away his plans to the Death Eaters, or perhaps because he was afraid of endangering Stewart, who was only a student and not a full-fledged Auror, after all. 

Not that Stewart was afraid of risking himself to expose and capture the Death Eaters, but as an Auror, Williamson would never put an underage student in danger. Stewart felt a little better as he reminded himself that Williamson had been a close friend of his father; of course he could trust him! Everything would probably make perfect sense once the Death Eaters were all safely locked up and Williamson was able to explain the whole story.

The letter had arrived the night before the Quidditch match, and Stewart did not have a chance to talk to Isabelle about it that evening, but he pulled her aside after breakfast the next morning. They went to the R.A. meeting room to talk in private, and Stewart showed her the letter; he had not told any of the other R.A. members about it since his role in helping Williamson was supposed to be a secret.

"Isn't this great?" Stewart said excitedly. "Soon all the Death Eaters will be locked up and the wizarding world will be safe again!"

To his surprise, Isabelle frowned, looking worried and unhappy. "But surely it can't be that easy," she said. "Surely there are some Death Eaters deep undercover who appear respectable on the surface. It could take a lifetime to root them all out."

It wasn't like Isabelle to be so pessimistic, and Stewart gave her a puzzled look. "Williamson sounded very confident," he said. "Snape is probably the ringleader; he's the highest-ranking Death Eater left now that Lucius Malfoy is dead. Once they arrest him, they can question him with Truth Potion and get him to give up the names of his fellow Death Eaters."

"I'm just saying that we should not become complacent," Isabelle said. "We must always keep our guard up. Isn't it true that some of the Death Eaters kept their identities secret even from each other?"

"That's true," Stewart reluctantly agreed. "According to my father, it seemed like even the other Death Eaters hadn't known that Peter Pettigrew was one of them, not until he was forced to drop his disguise as Weasley's pet rat."

"I just wish that we could do something dramatic at this match," Isabelle said wistfully. "Something like the hexed ribbons, or another Morsmordre spell."

"We'd better not," Stewart cautioned. "It might mess up Williamson's plans."

"I know, but I just--"

Suddenly the door swung open and an outraged Susan Bones burst into the room. "So the two of you are behind those hexes--and those threatening notes to Harry, too, right?" she said accusingly. "I had a bad feeling about it, but I didn't want to believe that my friends could do such a thing!"

"Now, calm down, Susan," Stewart said, trying to sound soothing. "We can explain--"

"Explain what?" Susan shouted. "That two of my best friends betrayed me? Especially you, Isabelle--Hufflepuffs are supposed to be loyal to each other!"

"I am being loyal," Isabelle said quietly. "I was working to expose the Death Eaters who murdered your relatives as well as mine, and I didn't tell you about it because I didn't want you to get in trouble if we got caught. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Susan asked incredulously. "I think you were trying to protect yourself, because you knew I'd turn you in if I had known what you were doing! Dylan and Theodore were nearly killed by your stupid hexes!"

"So what?" Stewart retorted. "They're Death Eaters! How many people did their fathers kill?"

"We don't know that they're Death Eaters!" Susan shouted. "We were only supposed to be trying to find out the truth about the Slytherins, not kill them or frame them!"

"Sometimes when your enemy does not play by the rules, you have to bend the rules a little as well, in order to win," Isabelle said calmly.

Susan stared at her two friends with a look of disgust on her face. "Sneaking around, lying, manipulating people--isn't that how the Slytherins are supposed to act? If you have to become like your enemy in order to win, then maybe winning isn't worth it! And now I'm not so convinced that the Slytherins are our enemies, after all. I think maybe we were wrong about them--I was certainly wrong about you!" Then she turned and ran out of the room.

"Shouldn't we follow her?" Stewart asked anxiously. "What if she tells someone? It'll ruin everything!"

"Oh, don't worry," Isabelle said with a cool smile. "She won't be able to say anything. Don't you remember the contract that all of us signed, that said we would not talk about the R.A. with outsiders?"

"You put a curse on the contract?" Stewart asked, still feeling worried. "Like the one the D.A. used?"

"No, not like the one the D.A. used," Isabelle replied smugly. "I used something much more powerful and much more effective than a jinx spelling out 'sneak' on someone's forehead. Come on, we'd better get going or we'll be late to the match."

Stewart obediently followed her, but he nervously wondered exactly what kind of curse Isabelle had used in the contract. He had come very close to telling Williamson about the R.A., but he had not, because it wouldn't be right, at least not without getting the other members' permission first. And as an Auror, Williamson would have technically been obligated to turn them in, no matter how sympathetic he was to their plans. Stewart didn't really believe that the Auror would have turned them in, but he hadn't wanted to put Williamson in the position of having to break the rules. Not that the Auror seemed overly concerned about such things. But now Stewart was very glad that he had not broken the contract.

"Er...the curse...it won't hurt Susan, will it?" he asked.

"No permanent damage," Isabelle said reassuringly, except that Stewart did not find it all that reassuring. "Although she may be missing a few memories afterwards."

Then a group of students walked by, and Stewart was unable to question her further. They headed to the Pitch with the other students, while Stewart nervously hoped that Isabelle was right about Susan not being able to reveal their secrets.

"Hey, have you seen Susan?" Dean Thomas asked. He looked puzzled rather than suspicious, so apparently Susan had not confided in him about her concerns. But then, Susan was a typical loyal Hufflepuff, and she wouldn't want to speak out against a housemate without proof, not even to her boyfriend. She had probably intended to confront Isabelle first before speaking to anyone else, and that had been her mistake--fortunately for Isabelle and Stewart.

"We saw her a little while ago, but then she hurried off," Isabelle said innocently. 

"Maybe she's already on her way to the Pitch?" Stewart suggested.

"But we were going to walk down together," Dean said, looking a little hurt. 

"It's been a bit hectic with all the excitement surrounding the match," Isabelle said. "Perhaps she missed you in the crowd and decided to go on ahead."

"Maybe," Dean said. "I'll go take a look outside; maybe she's waiting for me in the courtyard. If you see Susan, tell her I was looking for her, okay?"

"Okay," Isabelle said with a sweet smile.

*** 

Susan ran to Sprout's office, but the Professor wasn't there. As she ran through the halls in search of her Head of House, she nearly ran over Professor Flitwick.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir!" she exclaimed. "By any chance have you seen Professor Sprout?"

"I believe she has already headed out to the Pitch," Flitwick replied, then gave Susan a concerned look. "Is something wrong, Miss Bones?"

"I really have to to talk to her!" Susan said, frantic with guilt and worry. "I...I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake."

"Is there something I can do to help?" Flitwick asked gently.

Susan hesitated for just a second. She had wanted to speak to her Head of House, but this was important enough that she should report it to the first teacher she saw. What if Stewart and Isabelle hurt someone at this match the way they had done at the others? And it sounded like their Auror friend was up to no good, too. She had to report this right away; she couldn't take the chance that someone might get hurt in the time it took to find Sprout and convince her that one of her own Hufflepuffs had been behind the pranks and threats that had been plaguing the school all year.

Susan thought, with a bit of ironic humor, that she should probably just be glad that she had run into kindly Flitwick instead of Snape! She doubted that he would react well to the knowledge that she had been involved with a secret society that had hexed his sons, albeit unwittingly. She realized now that she should have gone straight to Dumbledore, but she hadn't been thinking clearly. But Flitwick was here now, so she would tell him about the R.A., and then he could help her find the Headmaster.

"I--" was all Susan could get out before her throat constricted painfully. She clutched at her throat, making choking noises. Suddenly her eyes widened, looking blank and puzzled, then rolled up back in her head, and she fell to the floor in a faint.

"Miss Bones!" Flitwick cried. "Oh dear, oh dear!" The Charms teacher ran back and forth in a panic for a few moments, then firmly said, "Get a grip on yourself, Filius! You have a student who needs your help!" Then he felt a bit silly for talking to himself, but at least it had served to calm himself down. He conjured up a stretcher, put Susan on it, and pulled it along behind him with a levitation spell as he headed for the hospital wing, pausing only long enough to send a charmed message to Madam Pomfrey.

*** 

Madam Pomfrey was on her way to the Pitch when a little paper bird fluttered towards her. Frowning, she plucked it out of the air, unfolded and read it, then looked alarmed.

"What's wrong, Poppy?" Lupin asked.

"I need to go back to the castle," Pomfrey replied. "It seems that a student--Miss Bones--has collapsed."

"Oh no!" Lupin said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Pomfrey said. "Apparently she was talking to Filius, and just fainted. I'll have to go take a look at her before I can determine what was wrong. Hopefully it's just stress; the N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s have had many of the students exhausted and on edge."

"Should I come with you?" Lupin asked.

"No," Pomfrey said, shaking her head. "You should be there to cheer on the Slytherins since Severus isn't able to attend the match. But here, take my first aid kit. You and the other teachers should be able to handle minor injuries, and if any of the players are more seriously injured, send them to the castle. Oh, and please tell Professor Sprout what happened. I'm sure she'll want to know, since Miss Bones is her student."

"All right," Lupin said, taking the first aid kit. "And if you need any help, please ask Severus. I'm sure he's grumpy and restless, being cooped up in the castle while the match is going on. He might as well make himself useful instead of pacing back and forth in the dungeon."

Pomfrey nodded politely, although she didn't have any intention of calling on Snape. A grumpy Potions Master was not likely to make a sick or injured student feel any better.

However, after she had done a thorough physical and magical examination of Susan, she changed her mind. She could tell that there was some kind of complicated curse cast on the girl, one that she was not sure she could remove herself without hurting Susan further. And Snape, however unpleasant or irritable he might be, was an expert on Dark Magic.

So she sent a message to Snape, who was not pacing back and forth in the dungeon, but rather, pacing back and forth on the Astronomy Tower. This could well be Slytherin's year to win back the Quidditch Cup, and he was damned if he would miss it because of those conniving Aurors! He intended to watch the match, even if he had to watch it from a distance. So when the message came, he was a bit annoyed, but his expression changed to one of concern once he had finished reading it, and he immediately headed for the hospital wing.

*** 

Meanwhile, Lupin passed on Pomfrey's message to Sprout, who hurried back to the castle to check on her student. Then he quietly informed Dumbledore and Hooch of the reason for Pomfrey's absence. Dumbledore decided to let the match carry on, since the students had been looking forward to it all year. Any serious injuries probably would have had to be treated in the hospital wing, anyway, even if Pomfrey had been here.

Most of the students and spectators were too excited to notice Pomfrey's and Sprout's absences, although some of the Hufflepuffs wondered where Susan had gone. "Maybe she decided to sit with Dean in the Gryffindor section," Ernie Macmillan suggested.

But Dean was also wondering where she was. He had not been able to find her outside the castle, and finally went to sit in the Gryffindor section with his housemates. He hoped that she wasn't avoiding him. She had seemed distant and distracted lately, and he wondered if she was planning to break up with him. But they hadn't fought with each other the way he and Ginny had when they had been going out together, and she had never complained about him being unromantic or too possessive or anything like that. Maybe it had nothing to do with him at all; maybe she was just worried about her N.E.W.T.s. They had finished taking the exams, but were still waiting for the results, and he knew that she was worried about getting a good score. 

That must be it, he decided, feeling relieved. She must be worried about how she had done on the N.E.W.T.s, so he wouldn't give her a hard time about forgetting to meet him before the match. And maybe after the match he could invite her to a celebratory party at Gryffindor to cheer her up, because surely Gryffindor was going to win the finals! They had Harry Potter on their team, after all, and surely beating the Slytherins was nothing compared to defeating You-Know-Who. 

Dean suddenly regretted that he had been so stubborn and insisted on remaining off the team rather than apologize to the Slytherins. He should have swallowed his pride if that was what it took to get back on the team, so that he could be on the Pitch today to help kick the Slytherins' arses and win the Cup. But although he was disappointed, and although he didn't agree with Harry about a lot of things, he was still a Gryffindor, so he cheered loudly when his team took the Pitch.

The Slytherin spectators cheered equally loudly, and from the teachers' section of the stands, Lupin cheered and waved a Slytherin pennant. He was still worried, about Susan, and also about Severus, but he tried not to let it show, for the Slytherin team's sake. He was also recording the match with one of Cassidy's magical spheres, so that Severus could watch it later--if Slytherin won. He doubted that Severus would want to see it if Gryffindor won.

"Let's win this match for the Professor's sake," Draco told his teammates in a determined voice. "Let's make him proud of us and help him win his bet with McGonagall!"

"For the Professor's sake!" The Slytherin team shouted.

"And keep a close eye on the Gryffindors, and don't let them play any sneaky tricks on you," Draco added, remembering how Dean Thomas had won their first match against Gryffindor with that stealthy throw when no one had been watching the goals.

"I want a nice fair game from all of you," Madam Hooch said, and as if echoing Draco's thoughts, glared sternly at both the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams.

Both teams were equally determined to win, and for the seventh years, it was their final chance to win the Cup, so they all played with even more vigor and intensity than usual. Damien just barely managed to avoid being hit in the head with a Bludger, and Crabbe had a foul called on him for accidentally-on-purpose jostling Seamus Finnigan, one of the Gryffindor Chasers. Both Ron and Millicent were relentless in defending their respective goals, and by the time the Snitch flew into view, each Keeper had only allowed one shot to get past them. However, thanks to the penalty shot allotted to them for Crabbe's foul, Gryffindor was leading by ten points, twenty to ten. 

Draco and Harry chased after the Snitch as it darted across the Pitch, then swooped dangerously low over the Gryffindor stands, causing the spectators to gasp as the two Seekers whizzed by overhead, so close that Harry accidentally knocked a hat off the head of an elderly witch. In Harry's defense, it was a very tall hat, topped off with a stuffed vulture.

"Sorry!" Harry shouted as Neville Longbottom's grandmother shook her fist at him, and Neville covered his mouth with one hand to hide his smile.

*** 

Potter had a slight edge with his Firebolt, but Draco pushed his Nimbus to the limit, pulling up nearly even with his rival. _Please, please, please!_ Draco silently prayed, to Merlin, to Morgana, to whatever gods might be listening. _Please, just this once, let me win the game! Let ME be the hero just this once, not Potter and not Dylan! Potter's the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived--surely that's more than enough glory for him! Even if he loses this match, every Quidditch team in the country will still be recruiting him, or he could get a job at the Ministry of Magic if he doesn't want to become a professional Quidditch player._

 _Hell, they'd probably make him Minister of Magic if he asked--looks like they'll be getting rid of Weasley soon, anyway! I'm just the son of a dead, disgraced Death Eater, and I don't exactly have a lot of job prospects, so let me have just this one moment of glory, please!_ Draco didn't exactly hate Potter anymore, but just this once, he wanted to triumph over his old rival. Just this once, he didn't want to be second to Potter or anyone else, even if his father was no longer around to see it.

The Snitch was just ahead, and Potter was reaching out to grab it. He was only a few inches ahead of Draco, but those few inches were going to make all the difference. Draco couldn't make his broomstick go any faster, so he desperately lunged at the Snitch, flinging his body forward, and he grabbed the Snitch just before a startled Potter could grasp it.

Draco tried to keep his legs hooked over his broomstick, but his momentum carried him too far, and he lost his balance and fell off the broom, plummeting towards the ground. But even as he fell, he continued to clutch the Snitch tightly in his fist. It was strange; he knew he was in danger, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph at finally having beaten Potter.

He heard Potter scream, "DRACO!" and Dylan curse and say, "Does someone have to fall off their broomstick at every bloody match?!" All of the players, along with Madam Hooch, raced after him, but it was Potter and Dylan who reached him first. Potter grabbed hold of an arm, and Dylan managed to grab his ankle, and then Hooch and a couple of the other players were able to get a more secure grip on him and lower him safely to the ground.

"Are you insane, Malfoy?!" Potter shouted. "What did you think was going to happen after you jumped off your broomstick?!"

"You know you've gone too far when even a Gryffindor thinks you've done something reckless," Damien joked, but his face looked a little pale.

"It's not funny!" Dylan snapped, then grabbed Draco by the front of his robes and shook him. "A stupid game isn't worth being killed over, you moron!"

"Even if it's the Cup finals?" Goyle asked, and Dylan glared at him.

Draco knew that Dylan was right, and he had just done something incredibly stupid, but he couldn't stop grinning. Maybe later the full impact of what he had done would hit him, but right now he was too caught up in a wave of euphoria to feel any fear.

"But I caught the Snitch!" Draco laughed, holding it up triumphantly, knowing that the others probably thought he was crazy, but not caring. "I won the game! We won the Cup!"

The Slytherin spectators, who up until now had been watching in stunned silence along with the rest of the crowd, suddenly began cheering and applauding. The team members, now that they knew Draco was safe, began to smile and laugh excitedly as well.

"We did it!" Millicent laughed. "We won the Cup!"

"Good going, Draco!" Crabbe said, slapping him on the back. "You did it! You won the Cup for us!"

Theodore grinned and said, "Well, I still think you're nuts, Malfoy, but you did win the game--and Father's bet." He held out his hand and Draco shook it. "But Remus will probably scold you for making him worry."

Dylan sighed, shook his head, then smiled and shook Draco's hand. "Congratulations, Draco. I guess this makes us even now."

"Too bad," Draco laughed. "I liked the idea of you and Professor Snape owing me a favor!"

Weasley shook his head, regarding Draco with a look of disbelief mingled with a hint of admiration. "You are positively insane, Malfoy," he said. "Not even Fred and George would have done something that crazy." He held out his hand, saying, "Good game."

Draco shook his hand, and Potter's as well. "I think you're crazy, too," Potter said with a rueful smile. "But I guess if you want it that badly, you deserve to win. I don't think I could have done that."

"Says the guy who broke his arm catching the Snitch in second year," Weasley pointed out.

"I crashed," Potter protested. "I didn't jump off my broom!"

"Slytherin wins the match!" Hooch announced, then added, "Although you're very lucky that you didn't break your neck, not to mention every other bone in your body, Mr. Malfoy."

The Slytherins cheered, and Crabbe and Goyle lifted Draco up on their shoulders. He grinned and waved at the cheering spectators, basking in his moment of glory.

*** 

Meanwhile, back at the castle, Pomfrey, Sprout, and Snape had no time to think about the match. Snape used an Aperio spell, along with a few other identifying spells, to study the curse laid on Susan while Sprout fidgeted impatiently, obviously fighting the urge to tell the Potions Master to hurry up and get on with it.

"It is not one curse, but a blending of two curses," Snape finally announced. "And actually, it involves a third spell which is not precisely a curse--a conditional spell, which triggers the curses when a particular requirement is met." He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Very subtle and skillful work--much better than I'd expect from your average student."

"Maybe it wasn't a student who cast it," Pomfrey suggested.

"We can worry about who cast it later!" Sprout snapped. "Right now, the most important thing is Susan's safety. Is she going to be all right? Can you remove the curses?"

"Yes, but it will take time," Snape replied. "We'll have to be very careful, or the spells might snap back and rebound on Miss Bones if we do not remove them properly. I'll need your help, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, Severus," Pomfrey said. "What type of curses are we dealing with?"

"A Silencing Hex," Snape said. "Not the usual sort of silencing spell that simply keeps noise from escaping a room, but a hex that prevents the victim from speaking." 

"Which fits in with what Filius said, that Miss Bones suddenly choked and fainted," Pomfrey mused. "And the other curse?"

"Well, technically it's not classified as a curse, although it certainly acts like one," Snape said. "An Obliviate spell."

Pomfrey's eyes widened. "Someone wanted very badly to keep Susan from talking about something."

Snape nodded grimly. "All the more reason to lift the curse and find out what that something is."

It took them a long time to successfully untangle the three spells, one by one, and then remove them. Fortunately, Snape had gotten some experience with this sort of thing before during the previous school year, when trying to restore the hexed bunny-Bane to his proper raven form. Even so, the Quidditch match was almost over by the time they were done, although they were not yet aware of that.

Susan's eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. She saw Snape staring down at her, and said in a hoarse whisper, "Pr...Professor?"

"Are you all right, Susan?" Sprout asked anxiously.

"I...think so," Susan replied hesitantly, sitting up in bed. "But I feel strange. Like there are holes in my memory." She looked around the room. "I'm in the hospital wing, but I don't remember how I got here. What happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Snape asked.

Susan frowned, her forehead wrinkling in thought. "I...I was talking to someone, but I can't remember who. The last thing I can remember clearly is having breakfast in the Great Hall."

"You ran into Professor Flitwick after breakfast," Pomfrey told her. "He said that you seemed very upset. You said that you needed to talk to Professor Sprout, that it was very important, something about how you had made a terrible mistake. Then you started to choke, and fell unconscious."

Susan frowned again, looking worried. "I don't remember any of that."

"Someone hexed you, Miss Bones," Snape said bluntly. "Someone who didn't want you to talk about this 'terrible mistake'. You truly have no recollection of what that was?"

"I...I'm sorry, Professor," Susan said tearfully. "I don't know what I was trying to tell Professor Flitwick, but I have this feeling somehow that I've done something wrong. Something that I have to fix." She clenched her fists in frustration. "But I don't know what it is!"

"Will she recover from the Obliviate spell?" Sprout asked.

"It could be permanent, or it could wear off in a few days, a few weeks, or a few years," Pomfrey replied. "It all depends on the strength of the spell, the skill of the caster, and what the caster was trying to Obliviate. It's fairly easy to erase the memory of a brief, specific incident from a person's mind. It's much harder to erase a series of events, or a person that the victim knows well. For example, it would probably be easy to erase the memory of Susan's last Potions class from her mind. But it would be much harder to erase her memories of Potions classes for the entire year, because there are so many of them. And it would be virtually impossible to erase the memory of someone Susan has known all her life, like her father or mother."

"An Obliviate spell doesn't actually erase the memories," Snape said. "It simply barricades them, blocking them from the victim's conscious mind. Miss Bones might recover her memories with time, or she might not. Either way, I suspect we do not have time to waste. There is a way that I could recover them more quickly."

Sprout looked confused, but Pomfrey exclaimed, "Severus, surely you're not thinking of--!"

"Do you know what Legilimency is, Miss Bones?" Snape asked, ignoring Pomfrey.

"Er...mind reading?" Susan replied.

Snape sighed irritably. "Not exactly, but close enough. I am a Legilimens, Miss Bones. I can attempt to enter your mind and recover your lost memories, but I'll require your consent in order to do it." Well, actually he didn't, but he doubted that Pomfrey and especially Sprout would let him get away with entering a student's mind by force, no matter how important it was to recover those memories. Sometimes he was able to scan the students without their knowledge, but he was only able to pick up strong emotions and surface thoughts with such a cursory scan. He would have delve much deeper into the girl's mind in order to access the hidden memories.

Susan went pale. "Will it hurt?"

"It will be extremely uncomfortable and disconcerting," Snape replied honestly, not trying to sugarcoat it. "Less so if you cooperate and try not to fight me. But although it will be unpleasant, I will not hurt you."

Susan stared at him with trepidation; no doubt letting him into her mind was the very last thing she wanted to do. "You don't have to do this, Susan," Sprout said.

Susan swallowed hard, apparently trying to gather up her courage. "I think I do, Professor Sprout. I keep feeling that there's something important, something urgent in those memories. Like someone might be in danger if we can't figure out what it is. Do whatever you have to do, Professor Snape. I...I give my consent."

"Very well," Snape said, taking out his wand. "We shall proceed on the count of three, then. One...two...three...Legilimens!"

He felt the girl recoil in surprise and fear, reflexively trying to resist his entry into her mind. Snape tried hard to control his impatience, and silently said, _Calm down, Miss Bones. I won't hurt you._ He doubted that she could understand his exact words, but she seemed to understand his intent, and relaxed just a little. She was still afraid, but she was trying not to fight him.

Snape quickly bypassed childhood memories--birthday parties, images of her parents--and more recent memories, of kissing and holding hands with Dean Thomas. He noted, with some amusement, her fear and dislike of himself. He felt her nervousness when he touched that thought, felt her brace herself for his anger, then become confused at his amusement. Silly girl, Snape thought; it hardly came as a shock to him to know that most of the students in Hogwarts despised him. It was actually more shocking when they didn't.

He came up against a wall, and quickly pushed through it, feeling Susan mentally flinch. But it caused her only brief discomfort rather than actual pain because the wall had been artificially created by the Obliviate spell, rather than by Susan herself. Breaking down mental walls that a person had built in order to repress disturbing memories could be very difficult for the Legilimens, and quite painful for the Legilimen's subject. But Susan wanted to remember what was behind the wall, which made the process easier. 

The memory he found was one of Susan listening in on Stewart Ackerley and Isabelle Laroque as they blithely talked about how they had been responsible for the hexed ribbons that had nearly gotten Dylan killed, along with the fake Morsmordre spell--which meant that they were probably responsible for all the other pranks, hexes, and threats as well. And they mentioned something about a plan Williamson had to capture the Death Eaters, something that was supposed to happen today.

Alarmed, Snape went searching for other walls and broke them down; he wasn't sure that he had found them all, but he had seen enough. He withdrew from Susan's mind, and she stared at him in horror, her eyes filled with guilt.

"The R.A.!" she cried. "Isabelle formed it and convinced us to join." She briefly described the R.A. and their activities, and Sprout and Pomfrey stared at her in shock. "We had all lost family to the Death Eaters," Susan continued in a guilty and slightly defensive voice, "and...well..."

"You believed that I was still a Death Eater," Snape said coldly. "And that my Slytherins were Death Eaters, or at least sympathizers, as well."

"I wasn't sure," Susan said, looking shamefaced. "But I thought you might be. We weren't supposed to hurt anyone! Isabelle said that we would only observe the Slytherins, and try to gather proof that they were involved with the Death Eaters! She never said anything about hexing people!"

"That would be small comfort to Dylan and Theodore if they had been killed," Snape said in a tight, clipped voice; keeping his rage in check took every ounce of self-control that he had.

Susan hung her head in shame. "I know, Professor," she whispered.

"And bad enough that you were spying on my Slytherins and dosing them with potions, but you even threatened Potter, whom I thought was your friend!"

"I didn't know!" Susan sobbed. "I didn't know what they had done!"

"But you suspected," Snape said coldly. He had seen the doubt and guilt in her mind. "That was why you were spying on Laroque and Ackerley this morning."

"I am very disappointed in you, Miss Bones," Sprout said, shaking her head and still looking stunned by what they had just learned.

"I'm sorry," Susan whispered.

Snape lost a bit of his control and turned on Sprout, snapping, "What on earth is going on in your House, Sprout? At least three members of this little secret society are Hufflepuffs!" He added in a sneering, scathing voice, "I never expected Hufflepuff to be a hotbed of insurgency!"

As Sprout flushed with both embarrassment and anger, Pomfrey quickly stepped between the two of them. "We don't have time for this now!" she said impatiently. "You can figure out who to blame later--right now we have to stop the R.A. and this Auror from hurting anyone else!"

"You're right," Snape agreed reluctantly. "Miss Bones, do you know what they intended to do at the match?"

"No, sir, I'm sorry," Susan replied. "Stewart was showing Isabelle a letter he got from Mr. Williamson, but they didn't read it out loud. All they said was that they couldn't cast any hexes at this match because it might ruin Mr. Williamson's plans."

"I knew that slimy bastard was up to something, attending all the Quidditch matches," Snape said disgustedly. "We've got to get out to the Pitch before anything happens!"

"You can't leave the castle, Severus!" Pomfrey protested. "That would give Williamson the perfect excuse to arrest you!"

Snape described in graphic detail what Williamson could do to himself, causing Susan to blush and her eyes to widen in shock.

"I believe that's physically impossible, Severus," Pomfrey said, a small smile crossing her lips, although her eyes still looked worried.

"Send messages to Dumbledore and to Lupin," Snape ordered. "And to Branwen, too--I'm sure she would be a great help with rounding up our little group of subversives. Tell them to bring all the members of the R.A. to the castle for questioning--especially Ackerley and Laroque; they seem to be the ringleaders. As for Williamson, we don't have any authority to hold him, but someone needs to at least keep an eye on him. Maybe we can actually get proof that the bastard has been breaking the laws rather than enforcing them. I'll call Tonks and Shacklebolt, just in case. Maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to arrest him, and if not, they can at least get him off the school grounds. Oh, and someone should be watching Dawlish, too--he and Williamson usually work as a pair. As for you, Miss Bones--" He glared at Susan, who went pale and shrank back in fear. "I'll deal with you later. You are not to set foot out of this room, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," she said in a small voice. "I know what I did was wrong. I'll do whatever I can to help make it right, and I'll accept any punishment you give me. Even...even expulsion."

Sprout patted her hand, a hint of sympathy creeping into her expression, and said, "We'll discuss that later, Miss Bones." Snape just nodded curtly, and the adults set out to deliver their messages.

*** 

As it turned out, Stewart did not need to distract Lupin, because the werewolf was so busy hugging and congratulating the Slytherins on their win--after thoroughly scolding Draco for being so reckless--that he didn't even notice Master Diggory quietly slip out of the stands. None of the other teachers seemed to notice, either. Stewart decided to follow at a discreet distance; he was consumed by curiosity, wanting to know what Williamson had planned, and he wanted to witness the Auror's--and by extension, the R.A.'s--moment of triumph. Surely it wouldn't do any harm if he watched, so long as no one knew he was there...

*** 

Meanwhile, in the Hufflepuff section, Tristan had been surprised but happy to see his Uncle Amos attend the match, since he and Tristan's mother had not been speaking to each other since Master Diggory had filed the lawsuit against him. Amos and Gwendolyn exchanged stiff but polite greetings, and Amos patted Tristan on the shoulder with sincere affection, although his smile looked a little strained. The Diggory family concentrated their attention on the game to avoid having to make awkward small talk with each other, but Tristan noticed that his uncle looked pale, worried, and distracted, and his mind seemed to be on something other than what was happening on the Pitch. His eyes kept darting nervously over towards the section where the teachers were sitting--where Master Diggory was sitting.

Of course he was probably upset about the trial, but he seemed scared rather than angry, which in turn worried Tristan so much that he too had difficulty concentrating on the game, and didn't even care when Slytherin won. Although he didn't like the Gryffindors much, he was beginning to think that maybe he had been wrong about Harry, and anyway, it was better to root for Gryffindor than a House full of Death Eaters. But now he was too concerned about Amos to care who won the game. After the match was over, Amos abruptly said goodbye and hurried out of the stands, but he didn't seem to be heading towards the school gates. He glanced over at the teachers' section of the stands with his binoculars, and saw that Master Diggory was heading in the same direction as Amos.

"Listen, I'm going to go say hi to a few of my friends," Tristan told his parents, but instead he followed his uncle.

*** 

Back on the Pitch, Draco was being scolded by a tearful Narcissa. "You could have been killed!" she sobbed. "What would I do if I lost you, Draco? You're all I have left!"

"I'm sorry, Mum," Draco said remorsefully, beginning to feel guilty for making his mother cry. "But see, I'm fine. I promise I won't do anything like that again." An easy enough promise to make, since this was his last match at Hogwarts, and it was very unlikely that any professional team would hire the son of an infamous Death Eater.

"You had better not!" Narcissa said, then hugged him tightly. Draco noticed that she seemed just a little thicker around the waist than normal, and then he noticed that she was wearing loose, voluminous robes rather than her usual gowns which clung to her torso and showed off her figure. Maybe she had been sampling a bit too much of her own cooking, or maybe she was eating a lot because she was depressed--he vaguely recalled seeing some of the Slytherin girls gorge themselves on chocolates after breaking up with their boyfriends. 

No wonder she was wearing loose, baggy robes--Narcissa was very proud of her beauty, and she wouldn't want any of the other pureblood women making catty remarks about how she'd gained weight. And then Draco felt even more guilty, because it was his fault that his mother was depressed, since he had forced the werewolf to break up with her. He would try to make it up to her after graduation, and spend a lot of time at home with her so she wouldn't be lonely.

Aileen Pierce came over and gently pulled Narcissa away from Draco. "There, there," she said soothingly. "Draco's fine; there's no need to cry." She handed Narcissa a handkerchief and said, "Why don't you sit down for a minute and compose yourself?" Then she said in a much sterner voice to Draco, "And don't you make your mother cry like that again! Honestly, Draco, use a little common sense!"

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said meekly.

"But he won the Cup for us, Mum!" Damien exclaimed, still exuberant over their victory. His mother swatted him on the back of his head, and he protested, "Hey, what was that for?"

"Teenage boys!" Aileen said crossly. "They're all the same!" But she looked relieved as she watched Damien and Draco laugh and accept the congratulations of their housemates, and Draco didn't realize that it was not just relief that he was unharmed.

*** 

Meanwhile, Allegra happened to notice Tristan quietly sneaking away from the Pitch. She didn't like the Hufflepuff boy because he was always making snide remarks about the Slytherins, including her brother's friend Theo. And there was something a little sly and sneaky about him, that she didn't trust. Although recently, he had been too upset about his family feuding with each other to make trouble. In fact, he had been looking so miserable that she felt a little sorry for him in spite of herself. But now it seemed that he was definitely up to something, and she wanted to know what it was.

"Come on," she said eagerly to Portia; their other friends Emma and Chloe were busy talking to their families. "Let's go see what he's up to!"

"But we're not supposed to go wandering off alone," Portia protested. "We might get in trouble."

"We won't be alone," Allegra said reasonably. "I'll be with you, and you'll be with me."

"I don't think that's quite what the teachers meant," Portia said.

"I want to see what he's up to," Allegra insisted. "He's acting kind of suspicious, and we still don't know who was behind all those hexes and pranks. And he thinks all Slytherins are Death Eaters--maybe it was him. Come on, Portia, it'll be an adventure!"

That reminded Portia that the Sorting Hat had told her that she was braver than she thought. Maybe it was time to prove it, if only to herself--to prove that she was a real Gryffindor, unlike her traitorous uncle. "Okay," she told Allegra.

*** 

To Aric's horror, the Tierneys were back from France, and had come to the match to meet the prospective bridegroom. Mrs. Tierney chattered inanely about what a handsome boy Aric was and what a lovely couple he and Miranda would make. Mr. Tierney shook Aric's hand and said heartily that he would make a fine son-in-law and he couldn't wait to welcome him into the family--in fact, he and Miranda should wed as soon as school let out.

But to Aric's ears, it sounded more like he couldn't wait to get rid of his daughter, rather than being eager to gain a new son-in-law. To Aric's relief, his mother firmly squelched that idea, saying that they must have time to properly prepare for the wedding--it must be a suitably grand occasion, not something rushed and hurried. They would hold the betrothal ceremony after Aric graduated, but the actual wedding would take at least a few months to prepare. So he had a few more months of freedom--not that it mattered; he had already lost Takeshi.

As for his betrothed, she was indeed a beautiful girl, but she said little, slouching in her seat and pouting sullenly. It seemed that she wanted this marriage as little as he did--well, at least they had something in common. She ignored him and he ignored her, while their parents happily made plans for the wedding and Aric's career at the Ministry. Mr. Tierney was especially eager to be making new allies right now, since Arthur Weasley's star seemed to be waning. Meanwhile, Aric's mother and Mrs. Tierney were discussing what kind of flowers to use at the wedding, and what sort of dress Miranda should wear.

Aric whispered to Miranda in a wry voice, "Maybe they should just marry each other and leave us out of it." His future bride actually smiled a little, which made her look a great deal more attractive. He knew that he shouldn't hate her; she obviously had no choice in the matter, either. Maybe they could become friends, but he knew that he could never love her, because his heart already belonged to Takeshi. That made him sad, not just for his sake, but for hers. It didn't seem fair for her to be tied for the rest of her life to a man who would never love her. 

He wondered if she had someone that she liked, too--well, maybe not, since it seemed like her parents had been mainly concerned about her running wild, but on the other hand, that could be a euphemism for dating the wrong guy. But even if all she wanted was her freedom, she deserved to have it. Why should she be forced to marry some man she didn't even know just so that her family could put up a front of being "respectable"?

Miranda studied his face, looking thoughtful and then sympathetic. "You don't want to do this either, do you?" she asked quietly.

"No," he replied, just as quietly. "But we don't have any choice, do we?"

"Not unless we want to be disowned by our families," she replied.

Aric's mother and Mrs. Tierney saw their children talking quietly with each other, and smiled happily. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" Mrs. Tierney gushed. "They're getting along so well; I knew they'd make a good couple!" Miranda and Aric both glared at their mothers murderously.

To Aric's relief, his parents and the Tierneys didn't linger after the match, but had to leave right away, because the Tierneys were having a party at their house.

"It's Mother's birthday," Miranda explained.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Tierney," Aric said politely.

"It was so nice of the Tierneys to come today, when they're busy getting ready for the party," Alison Dietrich declared. "You should thank them for coming."

"Thank you for coming," Aric said obediently, if without much enthusiasm.

"No need to thank us, son!" Mr. Tierney said with a grin. "We really wanted to get a look at our new son-in-law!" Behind his back, Miranda rolled her eyes, and Aric smiled a little.

"There are no classes today, are there?" Mrs. Tierney asked. "Why don't you come join us at the party? It would give you more time to get to know Miranda."

"We're not allowed to leave the school without permission from our Head of House," Aric said hastily. "And Professor Snape has been in a really bad mood lately. I don't think it would be a good idea to bother him right now."

"We wouldn't want to get Aric in trouble," Miranda said quickly. "There will be plenty of time to get to know each other after he graduates."

"That's true," Mr. Tierney conceded. "Snape's always been a nasty git. He'd probably deny you permission just to be spiteful. Well, we'd best be on our way, then. But we must all get together for dinner after Aric graduates."

"That sounds lovely," Alison said.

Aric politely said goodbye to his future in-laws, and held out his hand to Miranda. She shook it firmly while their mothers frowned. They probably thought that he should give her a kiss on the cheek, or at least a courtly kiss on her hand, but Aric didn't think he could manage that right now, and Miranda didn't seem offended. "It was nice to meet you," he told her, and was surprised to find that he meant it. It was too bad that they hadn't met under different circumstances; he wouldn't have minded having her as a friend, even if he didn't want a bride. 

"Likewise," Miranda said, with a small, ironic smile that seemed to indicate that she was thinking much the same thing.

Aric sighed with relief when he was finally left alone, and decided to go take a walk by the lake to calm down and sort out his thoughts.

*** 

Perhaps the teachers might have noticed so many students sneaking off, if they had not been preoccupied with the disturbing messages sent from the castle.

"Severus suspected Stewart from the beginning!" a distraught Lupin said. "I knew he was troubled by his father's death; I should have tried harder to reach out to him. Maybe if he'd had someone to confide in, things wouldn't have gotten to this point."

"He resented you because of your relationship with Severus," Dumbledore pointed out. "You did make overtures of friendship towards him, as you do with all your students, and he resisted them. It isn't your fault."

"The Slytherins resisted my efforts at first, too," Lupin said, not sounding comforted. "But I kept trying until I got through. But I was so busy dealing with all my personal problems that I didn't make time for Stewart. I overlooked problems with Draco, too..."

"You had your hands full with your new family, Remus," Dumbledore said firmly. "No one expects you to save the world single-handedly."

"If it's anyone's fault, it's mine," Flitwick said, looking as guilty and upset as Lupin did. "I'm his Head of House; I'm the one who should have tried harder to get him to confide in me. Of course I knew he was troubled about his father's death, but I refused to take Severus's concerns seriously. I refused to believe that one of my students could have done such a thing, but the signs were there..."

"And Isabelle," Lupin continued, as if he hadn't heard Flitwick. "I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I sensed there was something a little off about her. She and Aric both went through major changes in their lives: transferring to a new school in a different country. Aric obviously has had a difficult time adjusting, but Isabelle has adjusted very well---maybe a little too well. And she's always so guarded; I can never really tell what she's thinking. I tried talking to her once, but she brushed me off..."

"I can't believe that my Gryffindors were involved with this group," McGonagall muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Didn't they learn anything from the war?"

"You can feel sorry for yourselves later!" Branwen snapped, and Lupin, Flitwick, and McGonagall gave her sheepish looks. "But right now we have to round up the miscreants: Ackerley, Laroque, Ames-Diggory, Talbott, Thomas, Sloper, and Kirke."

"And the Aurors," Satoshi added.

McGonagall frowned. "That's odd...come to think of it, I don't recall seeing either Dawlish or Williamson at the match today, and they've attended every match since the one where the false Dark Mark was cast."

"I noticed that, too," Sinistra said. "I thought they must be too busy trying to frame Lukas and Severus to have time to come to the match."

"Speaking of which," Satoshi said, looking around. "Where is Lukas?"

Lupin frantically looked around the Pitch. "Oh no," he said. "You don't suppose Williamson's plot has anything to do with Lukas, do you?"

"Quickly then," Dumbledore ordered. "Everyone spread out, round up the R.A. members, then search the grounds for the Aurors and Lukas."

Sirius, who had come along with Branwen when Dumbledore had called the teachers together, volunteered to help as well, and his wife told him, "Search the castle; you should know all the hiding places and secret passages better than anyone."

Sirius grinned, then he and Lupin stared at each other as the same thought simultaneously occurred to them. "The Marauder's Map!" they chorused. A crowd of students was watching from a distance, looking curious and a little concerned as to what the teachers were talking about. Harry was in that crowd, and Sirius beckoned for him to come over. "Harry, you still have the Marauder's Map, right?" he asked urgently.

"Er...well..." Harry replied nervously, his eyes flickering over towards Branwen and then the Headmaster.

"This is important, Harry," Branwen said impatiently. "We don't have any time to waste."

"You're not in any trouble," Lupin added kindly.

"Yes, I have it," Harry admitted. 

"Where is it?" Branwen asked.

"In my room," Harry replied.

"Damn!" Sirius said. "We'll have to go all the way back to the castle to get it."

"It's still our best bet to locate Dawlish and Williamson--and Lukas," Branwen said. "Take Harry and go get it--you can ride that fabulously expensive and fast broomstick you bought for him. Take Bane with you; once you find out where they are, he can pass the message along to me." Sirius and Harry both stared at her uncertainly, not sure whether she meant for Bane to carry a written message, or whether she and the bird could communicate telepathically. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Branwen snapped. "Get moving!" 

Sirius and Harry decided that they could figure it out later, and jumped on the Firebolt, with Bane riding on Harry's shoulder, and they took off for the castle. 

Meanwhile, the teachers set about rounding up the R.A. members. McGonagall confronted Dean Thomas, Jack Sloper, and Andrew Kirke; the guilty looks on their faces told her everything she needed to know, and she sternly marched them back to the castle. Flitwick likewise apprehended Corbin Talbott, but could not find Stewart Ackerley.

"I don't know where he went!" Corbin sullenly insisted when Flitwick questioned him. "I saw him take off after the match, but I don't know where he went. I just figured he didn't want to watch the Slytherins celebrate their win."

When Isabelle saw Branwen heading towards her with a grim expression on her face and a steely glint in her eyes, she started to reach for her wand, but the Summonings Professor said, "Don't even think about it, girl," and Isabelle's hand dropped to her side. "Miss Bones told us everything, Miss Laroque," Branwen said. "Your curse wasn't quite as effective as you thought it was."

Isabelle looked angry and frightened, but also strangely relieved. "It's over," she whispered.

"Indeed it is," Branwen said coldly. "Where is Mr. Ames-Diggory?"

"I don't know," Isabelle replied.

Branwen pulled out her wand. "My patience is wearing very thin, Miss Laroque. I want to know where Mr. Ames-Diggory is, and I want to know now!"

"Branwen!" Lupin protested, looking alarmed.

"She could have killed your sons, Remus!" Branwen told him.

"I don't know!" Isabelle shouted, turning a little pale. "I honestly don't know! I saw him leave after the match was over; I think he wanted to go talk to his uncle."

"Amos?" Lupin asked, looking startled and worried. "Amos Diggory is here?"

Isabelle nodded. "He was sitting with Tristan's family."

"Lukas, Amos, and the Aurors missing--not a good combination," Lupin said to Branwen, who nodded.

Dylan, Theodore, Blaise, and Serafina came running up. "Remus, what's going on?" Dylan asked anxiously.

Lupin hesitated. "Nothing I can discuss right now, but there may be trouble brewing. All of you, get back to the castle and stay put in the dorm until you hear from me or Severus."

"I can't find Allegra," Blaise said, looking worried. "I checked with the Gryffindors, and they say she and Portia Pettigrew wandered off somewhere together. They don't seem to be on the Pitch, and Allegra never came over to congratulate Theo and Dylan, which is pretty odd."

"All right," Lupin sighed. "Get back to the castle, and we'll look for them, too."

"I'm not leaving without my sister," Blaise said stubbornly. "I'll help you look."

"Then we will, too," Theodore said, and Dylan nodded. Serafina said nothing but came over and stood next to them.

"Get back to the castle this instant!" Lupin snapped, in a voice that sounded more like Snape's.

"I refuse," Blaise said, quietly but implacably.

By this time, Prospero and Selima had joined them. "From what I can gather," Prospero said, "it seems that you are searching for several students and a couple of shady Aurors. It's a big campus; you can use all the help you can get."

"Are you willing to let your grandson put himself in danger?" Lupin asked incredulously.

"I know him well enough to know that we would have to Stupefy him before he would leave his sister in danger," Prospero replied. "Not that I haven't considered it, but he and his friends are adults, or nearly so."

"Selima?" Lupin pleaded, his inner wolf so anxious about protecting his cubs that he forgot to call her "Lady". 

But Selima just gave him a faint smile. "I would rather my grandson and his friends return to safety, too. But Theodore is stubborn, like his father."

"We fought against the Death Eaters," Dylan pointed out.

"Prospero and I will accompany them," Selima said, and Lupin gave them a doubtful look. "I can do more than organize dinner parties, Remus," she told him dryly, then took out her wand and smiled slyly. "I'm quite adept with curses, if I do say so myself."

"She is, too," Prospero confirmed with a grin. "I was on the receiving end of them a few times in school. We are Slytherins, Remus. We know how to defend ourselves."

Lupin sighed helplessly, too worried for his conscious mind to register that Selima had just called him by his first name for the very first time. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "I don't have time to argue further."

Branwen handed Isabelle over to the nearest teacher, who happened to be Sinistra. "Take her to the Headmaster's office, and if she gives you any trouble, Stupefy her."

"With pleasure," Sinistra said.

"Maybe I should have kept Bane with me," Branwen said regretfully. "It would be useful to have him scout the school grounds from the air."

"I can do it!" Satoshi volunteered brightly, and instantly transformed into a very plump raven. With some difficulty and much flapping of wings, he managed to get airborne. "Haven't done this for awhile!" the bird called out cheerfully. "I'm a bit out of practice!" Then he flew off, somewhat unsteadily.

"Is he really going to be any help?" Selima asked dubiously.

"If not, we're no worse off than we were before," Branwen said with a shrug. "Hopefully Sirius will be able to pinpoint their location with the map, but in the meantime, we should split up and start searching the grounds."

"I'll take my broom and search from the air, too," Hooch declared.

"You lot come with me," Lupin said firmly to Prospero's group. "I want to be able to keep an eye on you."

They decided that Hooch would search from the air; Branwen and Hagrid would head in the direction of the Forbidden Forest ("A good place ter hide," Hagrid declared); and Lupin's group would search by the lake.

"The rest of you get the students safely back to the castle," Branwen ordered the other teachers. 

"I will scry for the location of our missing students in my crystal ball," Trelawney announced dramatically.

"Yes, yes, fine," Branwen said dismissively, and the search parties set out.

*** 

Meanwhile, Lukas and Amos confronted each other on the shores of the lake. "Where are the papers?" Amos demanded.

"Not so fast, Uncle," Lukas retorted. "You will receive them when Ash is freed, and not before."

"You really think I have that much influence over the Aurors?" Amos argued.

"You'd better hope you do," Lukas snarled. "Because otherwise you're useless to me, and I might as well just give the papers to Rita Skeeter."

"No!" Amos protested, a panicked look on his face. "You can't do that!"

"Tell me the truth for just once in your life, Uncle," Lukas said in what was half an angry demand and half a desperate plea. "There is no one but here but you and me, and we both know that the word of a werewolf counts for little. Tell me what really happened to my father. You can always deny it later. I just want to know the truth."

"I didn't kill him!" Amos shouted, backing away fearfully from his nephew.

"Tell me the truth!" Lukas shouted. "I swear on my father's name that I will not kill you no matter what you tell me--if only because I cannot protect my pack from a prison cell! But I want to know the truth about how my father died! Do you honestly expect me to believe that it's just a coincidence that he died after discovering information that could have ruined the Diggory family?!" He lunged forward, grabbed Amos by the front of his robes, and bared his teeth threateningly. "Tell me the truth!"

"It was my parents who did it, not me!" Amos screamed. "I swear I didn't know about it until it was too late! I would have stopped them if I had known, I swear!"

Lukas had long suspected that either Amos or the elder Diggorys--or possibly both--had been involved with Cynric's death, but suspecting and knowing were two different things. Lukas, stunned by the knowledge that Cynric's parents actually had killed their own son, loosened his grip on his uncle's robes. Amos quickly pulled away and stumbled backwards, his face still white with terror, 

A faint rustle in the bushes alerted Lukas to the fact that they weren't alone, and Williamson jumped out of the bushes, shouting, "Impedimenta!" Lukas tried to dodge the spell, and normally would have succeeded, but his reflexes were slowed by his state of shock. The spell grazed him, paralyzing him but not having its full effect. He snarled and glared hatefully at the Auror as he fought to shake off the spell.

"It took you long enough!" Amos shouted.

"I was waiting for the right moment," Williamson replied. Actually, he had been about to attack the werewolf when he started questioning Amos about Cynric's death, and held off because he was curious to know what Amos would say. The knowledge that Amos's parents had murdered Cynric--and that Amos had concealed that knowledge--could prove useful someday, in case he ever had reason to blackmail Amos. Of course he and Amos were allies at the moment, but one never knew when things might change; it was always nice to have a little insurance. And on the off chance that Amos became Minister of Magic after Arthur Weasley was removed (as some people were speculating), it certainly couldn't hurt to have a hold over the new Minister.

The Auror lazily raised his wand, smirking as he watched the helpless frustration and anger on the werewolf's face, and Amos snapped nervously, "Stop toying with him and finish him off already!"

"Any last words before I send you to join your father, Cyril?" Williamson asked. "If you'll testify against Snape, perhaps I'll spare your life."

"Liar," Lukas snarled. "Do you think that I don't know how your slimy little mind works? Even if I would a betray a friend, which I wouldn't, you would still kill me as soon as I gave you what you wanted."

"Then I guess this is goodbye," Williamson said mockingly. "Maybe I'll send your friend Ash to join you, too--or maybe I'll just let him rot in Azkaban until he goes mad and kills himself and saves me the trouble. You werewolves don't deal well with confinement, do you? He's only been there for one day, and I hear he's practically clawing at the walls..."

Lukas finally managed to shake off the effects of the spell and lunge towards a startled Williamson. He reached into the pocket of his robes for his wand as the Auror cried out in fear and raised his wand in earnest this time.

*** 

While Amos and Williamson were confronting Lukas, Stewart and Tristan were converging on the trio's meeting place, and came to an abrupt halt as they simultaneously spotted each other and stared in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" Stewart asked.

"I was following my uncle," Tristan replied. "He seemed really upset during the match, and I think it has something to do with Master Diggory. What are YOU doing here?"

"I was following the werewolf," Stewart said. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Look, since you're already here, I'll let you in on a little secret. Williamson is going to arrest Master Diggory today; it seems that he's an accomplice of Snape and the Death Eaters. I wanted to watch it happen."

"No way!" Tristan protested. "Master Diggory would never be involved with the Death Eaters!"

"Shh!" Stewart hissed. "We're getting close to the lake; you don't want them to hear us!"

"My cousin is not a Death Eater!" Tristan whispered fiercely.

"I didn't think so at first, either," Stewart said. "But Williamson says he is, and he's an Auror, so he should know."

"Well, Williamson is wrong!" Tristan insisted.

"Well, let's go see what they have to say to each other," Stewart suggested. "I'm a little confused myself; I didn't know your Uncle Amos was involved with this. But keep quiet, and remember not to let yourself be seen, because we're not supposed to be here, and we'll probably be in big trouble if we get caught. We could even be in danger if they start dueling and we get caught in the crossfire."

"Master Diggory is not a Death Eater," Tristan muttered stubbornly, but he followed Stewart. They made their way towards the lake, trying to stick to the cover of nearby trees and bushes.

The three adults didn't notice them, perhaps because Amos and Lukas were preoccupied with their argument, and Williamson was preoccupied with watching Amos and Lukas. They arrived just in time to hear Amos scream that his parents had killed his brother Cynric, not him. Tristan opened his mouth to cry out in surprise, but Stewart quickly clamped a hand over his young friend's mouth.

"Quiet!" he hissed. "We're not supposed to be here, remember?"

Tristan nodded, and Stewart released him. "My grandparents murdered Master Diggory's father?" he whispered, his eyes filled with shock and horror. "How could they kill their own son?"

"I don't know," Stewart whispered back. "I guess they wanted to protect the family name, but that does seem a bit extreme. And I don't see what this has to do with Master Diggory being a Death Eater."

"I told you, he's not a Death Eater!" Tristan insisted.

"I know he's your cousin, but you've only known him for--" Stewart started to argue, but they both fell silent when they heard Amos say, "Stop toying with him and finish him off already!"

Then Williamson said, "Any last words before I send you to join your father, Cyril? If you'll testify against Snape, perhaps I'll spare your life."

"Wh-what?" Tristan gasped incredulously. "They're not going to arrest him--they're going to kill him!"

"No, that can't be," Stewart said, but he sounded shaken and uncertain. "Williamson must be bluffing; he's trying to scare Diggory into a confession, that's all."

But the Auror certainly didn't seem to be bluffing. "Then I guess this is goodbye," Williamson said in a taunting voice. "Maybe I'll send your friend Ash to join you, too--or maybe I'll just let him rot in Azkaban until he goes mad and kills himself and saves me the trouble. You werewolves don't deal well with confinement, do you? He's only been there for one day, and I hear he's practically clawing at the walls..."

Lukas suddenly broke free of the Impediment Curse and lunged towards Williamson as Tristan ran forward screaming, "No, don't kill him!"

"Tristan?!" Amos cried in shock and alarm.

Stewart ran forward as well, shouting, "Stop, stop!" He was not sure whether he was talking to Tristan, Williamson, or both of them, but he knew that something was horribly wrong here.

Williamson and Lukas were both distracted by the sudden appearance of the boys, but Williamson recovered first. The Auror was closer to the boys than Lukas was, and as Stewart ran past him, Williamson reached out and grabbed him, then pulled the boy up against his chest like a shield, and pointed his wand at Stewart.

"Drop your wand!" Williamson shouted. "Drop it, or I'll kill the boy!"

"You're bluffing," Lukas retorted. "Stewart's father was your friend!" But he froze in position, his wand half-raised. 

"What are you doing?!" Tristan screamed at his uncle. "Were you planning to kill Master Diggory the way your parents killed his father? And now that crazy Auror is going to kill Stewart, too!" His eyes filled with tears, and he asked in a soft but accusing voice, "What would Cedric think of all this?"

Amos, his face filled with guilt and shame, pointed his wand at Tristan and shouted, "Stupefy!" and the boy fell over unconscious.

"I'm not bluffing," Williamson said to Lukas in a cold voice. "Drop your wand!"

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Lukas snapped. "Once I do, you'll kill us both!"

Williamson moved his wand closer, until the tip of it lightly touched Stewart's cheek; the boy flinched and whispered, "Please, Mr. Williamson...Ian...don't..."

"Avada," Williamson said softly, his eyes filled with desperation and just a hint of madness, and Lukas knew he wasn't bluffing.

"All right!" Lukas shouted, and flung his wand away; it landed several feet away from him. "All right, I've dropped the wand! Let the boy go!"

Williamson lowered his wand slightly, but did not release Stewart. "Pick up the wand, Amos," he ordered.

"This is isn't how it was supposed to happen," Amos said in a distraught voice, practically whimpering. "You said it would be easy. You said all I had to do was lure Cyril to the lake, and you would take care of everything!"

"Pick up the goddamned wand!" Williamson shouted. Still whimpering, Amos obeyed. "Cast an Impediment Curse on him with it," Williamson said. As Amos raised the wand, Lukas started forward, and Williamson snapped, "Don't move, or I'll kill Ackerley!"

Lukas hesitated for a second, just long enough for Amos to hit him with the spell, full force in the chest this time. Unable to move, he whispered, "The boy has nothing to do with this, Williamson. Let him go. You can Obliviate the memory of this from his mind so he won't be a threat to you. Just let him go."

Williamson laughed. "Oh, but he has everything to do with this! You're such a fool, Cyril! You have just sacrificed yourself for a student who has been conspiring against you. He's been feeding me information about you, and he stole the Hogwarts library books that enabled me to frame Snape."

"I'm sorry, sir," Stewart said miserably, flushing with shame. "He told me that you were involved with the Death Eaters, and I believed him. Because you're friends with Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, and I thought Snape was a Death Eater." But now he was no longer so sure. Everything had just turned inside out and upside down; if Williamson was a villain, then maybe Snape wasn't a Death Eater, after all.

"He's just a boy," Lukas said to Williamson. "He made mistakes, and if I were free, I might give him a good thrashing. But at least he has the excuse of being too young to know any better--and of being influenced by someone who should know better. You are lower than low, Williamson--maybe you think that a werewolf's life is worth nothing, but to kill a child? That's the sort of thing that a Death Eater would do!"

"Oh, shut up!" Williamson snapped. "Of course I wasn't really going to kill you," he told Stewart in a reassuring tone that rang hollow. "I was just pretending, in order to trick Diggory into dropping his wand."

"I don't believe you," Stewart said, looking sick and betrayed. "You must have known all along that he wasn't a Death Eater. A real Death Eater would never have thrown away his wand and put himself at risk just to save a student."

"You're a little too smart for your own good, Stewart," Williamson snarled. He cast an Impediment Curse on the boy and shoved him aside; Stewart toppled helplessly to the ground. "Give me the werewolf's wand," he told Amos.

"You...you're not going to kill the boys, are you?" Amos asked, staring at his friend with a look of horror on his face.

"Of course not!" Williamson snapped. "We'll Obliviate them, and we'll tell the Ministry that the werewolf attacked them, and we killed him in order to save them. We'll be heroes!" But the Auror was thinking to himself that Obliviated memories could sometimes be recovered, and maybe it would be safer to kill the two boys and blame it on the werewolf. But that meant he would probably have to kill Amos, too. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to today; if only the boys hadn't followed them out here! Well, the first order of business was to kill the werewolf before he managed to break free of the spell again. He could figure the rest out later.

"What do you need his wand for?" Amos asked, as Williamson snatched it out of his hand.

"The werewolf tried to attack us with a Dark Magic spell," Williamson said, raising Lukas's wand. "But fortunately, I was able to reflect it back at him and kill him with his own spell. And a Prior Incantato spell will support my story later, if certain other Aurors--such as Tonks and Shacklebolt--should choose to question it."

"Very clever," Amos said in a tone of admiration, although he still looked nervous and worried.

*** 

Meanwhile, Aric was slowly heading towards the lake when he heard shouting. He felt a little disgruntled that his desire for peaceful solitude had been thwarted, and was about to turn back when his curiosity got the better of him, and he went closer to see what was going on. He heard a flapping noise, and looked up to see a large raven flying above him, flapping its wings in a slow and labored manner, as if flying took a great deal of effort. He thought at first that it was Bane, then realized it was too fat to be Blackmore's familiar. There were a great many creatures much stranger than a raven in the Forbidden Forest, so he supposed it wasn't that odd a sight, although a wild bird shouldn't be that fat. Maybe it was one of Hagrid's pets.

Aric shrugged it off, being much more interested in what was going on by the lake than someone's pet bird. He was expecting to see a lover's quarrel, or perhaps a bunch of Gryffindors up to mischief, but instead he saw Tristan Ames-Diggory and Stewart Ackerley lying on the ground, and Amos Diggory and a red-robed Auror confronting Master Diggory, who appeared to be paralyzed by a spell: his face was contorted with fear and rage, and his body was jerking and twitching slightly, as if he were trying desperately to move but could not.

The Auror taunted, "I got the spell from one of the books you stole for me, Stewart. So his death will be on your hands twice over." 

Aric had thought that Stewart was unconscious, but he let out a wordless, anguished groan. Then the Auror's words sank in--"his death will be on your hands". He meant to kill Master Diggory!

The Auror raised his wand and shouted, "SANGUIS VENENO!"

The raven above him screeched in alarm, and there was also the sound of a little girl screaming (where had that come from?), and Aric acted without thinking--as usual. His family and his teachers had often scolded him for it over the years, and later Aric would realize that perhaps he should have tried to cast a spell or tackle the Auror instead. But his first instinct was to protect the teacher who had befriended him, and he ran forward and shoved Diggory out of the path of spell, and the beam of red-black light hit him instead. He fell to the ground screaming as the werewolf shouted, "NOOOO!"

As he collapsed, he thought he heard Master Satoshi shouting, "Help! Remus, Branwen, Hooch--anyone! HELP!" and the Auror shouting, "Get that bird!" 

And then he heard Portia Pettigrew screaming for help, Allegra Zabini shouting, "Expelliarmus!" and Amos shouting hysterically, "Where the hell did all these brats come from, Williamson?" But Aric's body was too racked with pain to try and figure out what was going on. A searing agony rushed through his body, as if fire were flowing through his veins instead of blood...

There was a confusing blur of sounds--cursing from Amos and the Auror, squawking from the bird, shouting and screaming from the girls, and then the sound of running footsteps and new voices.

"It's Satoshi!   "Over there, by the lake!"

"Professor Lupin, help!"

"Allegra, Portia, are you all right?"

"Oh my God, it's Aric! He's hurt!" That last voice was Theo, and he sounded frightened.

There was a great deal of shouting and a flurry of spells cast, and soon Amos was lying Stupefied on the ground. Williamson was harder to take down--all that Auror training must have paid off--but he was clearly outnumbered, and he knew it. With a look of anger and desperation in his eyes, he pointed his wand at Master Diggory. "If I'm going down, you're going down with me, werewolf!" he shouted. "Avada--"

The crowd of newly-arrived rescuers all raised their wands, but it was Portia--mousy, timid little Portia Pettigrew--who pointed her wand at the Auror's back and shouted, "Impedimenta!" and Williamson froze in place. 

"Expelliarmus!" Allegra said, and the wand went flying out of Williamson's hand. 

A couple of minutes later, Amos and the Auror were lying on the ground, securely trussed up with magical black ropes. The spells cast on Tristan, Stewart, and Master Diggory seemed to have worn off, or perhaps had been removed by Lupin. Aric wasn't sure which, because he had been too busy writhing in pain and vomiting up blood to have noticed. He did notice that the blood he was coughing up was so dark that it was almost black, and very thick and viscous--it looked rather like treacle, but tasted foul and acrid instead of sweet, or even salty and coppery like normal blood. He was sure this was not a good sign. He struggled to remember his Latin, and recalled that "sanguis" meant "blood" and "veneno" meant "to poison". Definitely not good.

Master Diggory crawled over to him, and Lupin and Theo knelt down by his side. "What happened?" Lupin asked.

"Williamson hit him with some Dark Magic spell," Diggory said. "Sanguis Veneno, he said. I've never heard of it before, but from the name, I can guess what it does."

"It's a very old and nasty spell," Prospero Zabini said. What was he doing here? Aric wondered. Snape's mother was here, too.

Meanwhile, Prospero continued, "It poisons the victim's blood, literally eats away at his body from the inside out. It's almost always fatal. He'll die if he doesn't receive treatment immediately."

"We can't let him die!" Theo said frantically. "Sera, you've been learning Healing Magic, right? Can't you do something to help him?"

"I'll try," Serafina said doubtfully. She knelt beside Aric, took out her wand, and cast a healing spell. He felt the pain ebb slightly, felt a kind of pressure in his body, as if something were trying to hold back the fire coursing through his veins, like a dam trying to hold back a river. But then the dam gave way and the pain broke free, and Aric groaned and coughed up another gob of thick, black blood.

"I can't do it," Serafina gasped, her face pale and sweaty. "I haven't been trained to deal with this type of injury. I'm not sure that even Madam Pomfrey could heal him. I've managed to slow down the poison a little, but he'll die if we don't get him to a trained Healer within the next ten minutes."

"We can't Disapparate on the school grounds," Lupin said despairingly. "We'll never make it back to the castle in time!" 

"Dietrich, you idiot!" Diggory cursed, tears glittering in his eyes. "You should have let me take the spell--I'm a werewolf; I might have survived it. I'd have had a better chance than you, at any rate!"

"You could thank me for saving your life," Aric said, in a feeble attempt to stave off his pain and fear with a joke.

"That's it!" Serafina shouted, and everyone turned to look at her. "A werewolf might be strong enough to survive the poisoning until we can get him to the castle or St. Mungo's! Master Diggory, Professor Lupin--one of you has to transform and bite him. It's his only chance of survival!"

"He could still die," Diggory argued.

"He'll die if you don't!" Serafina retorted. "I may not be a full Healer, but I know enough to see that he's dying!"

Selima frowned. "Even if this works, they could be sent to Azkaban for infecting him with lycanthropy."

"Please!" Theo begged. "Please, Remus, Master Diggory, you've got to save him! Please don't let him die!" There were tears streaming down his face; one of them fell onto Aric's cheek and trickled down between his lips. It tasted warm and salty, distracting him from the taste of the poisoned blood in his mouth. Why was Theo crying? Why would he ask Lupin, his foster father, to risk imprisonment for his sake? Theo hated him...didn't he?

"Theo," Aric whispered.

"All right," Lupin said quietly. "I'll do it."

"No, I'll do it," Diggory said firmly. "You have two cubs to look after, and besides, Snape would kill me if anything happened to you." Then he turned to Aric and said, "But I won't do this against your will. For some people, lycanthropy is a fate worse than death." He asked solemnly, "Will you die as a pureblood or live as a werewolf, Aric?"

Aric hesitated, but he could already feel his hold on life slipping away. The pain was beginning to recede, which was not a good sign, because his vision was blurring and everything was beginning to go dark although it was the middle of the day. He was suddenly filled with terror and reached out blindly, and felt Theo clasp his hand; he clung to it as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was.

As a pureblood heir, he should be willing to die to keep his line pure, but the threat of the encroaching darkness made a coward of him. "Please," Aric whispered, "I don't want to die."

Diggory stood up and took a few steps back. "I can't transform when the moon is not full unless the wolf feels threatened. Someone needs to attack me. And it needs to be a strong spell."

Theo pulled away from Aric, stood up, took out his wand, and shouted, "Crucio!"

Diggory screamed, and the scream turned into a howl as he collapsed onto all fours and his body began twisting and transforming. A few moments later, a huge blond wolf with yellow-green eyes lurched to its feet, snarling and baring its teeth.

Lupin quickly stepped between Theo and the wolf, perhaps worried that the wolf might turn on its attacker. But the wolf turned away from Theo and sank its teeth into Aric's shoulder. Aric cried out, but the pain was welcome, because if he could feel pain, it meant that he was still alive, and the sharp pain in his shoulder made him feel more alert, and pushed back the cloud of darkness a little. 

The wolf snarled and tore at the wound, and Aric remembered that this wasn't a normal transformation. He wasn't sure when the next full moon was, so he had no idea whether Diggory was currently taking the Wolfsbane Potion or not. He began to worry that even if he did survive the poisoning spell, the werewolf might lose control and kill him. Wouldn't that be ironic?

"Enough, Lukas!" Lupin cried, grabbing the wolf and trying to pull it off of Aric. He was the only one there who could safely try to restrain a transformed werewolf, since he was already infected. The wolf snarled and snapped at Lupin, but the other werewolf did not flinch, only gently and soothingly said, "It's all right, Lukas, you can stop now. The bite should have been enough to infect him. Aric will be all right."

The wolf calmed down and allowed itself to be pulled away, and a moment later, Master Diggory was on his hands and knees, coughing and choking, as his mouth was filled with Aric's blood. He started to spit it out, then stopped and asked, in a slightly garbled voice, "Is the poison contagious?"

"Yes," Prospero replied. "But since you are a werewolf, I don't think swallowing a small amount of Aric's blood will hurt you."

"Good," Diggory said, then crawled over to Williamson, grabbed his face, and firmly clamped his mouth over the Auror's.

"What the--?!" Aric heard Dylan gasp, and Tristan exclaimed, "Ewww!" Everyone else stared at the pair in shock. Aric turned his head slightly to watch. Diggory's eyes did not look lustful; instead, they looked furious and vengeful. Williamson desperately tried to pull away, but his bound limbs made his struggle futile. Diggory kept his mouth fastened on Williamson's, and covered the Auror's nose with one hand. Williamson's face went red, then started to turn blue, then finally he swallowed convulsively and Diggory released him. 

The blond werewolf gasped for breath, grimaced and spat, as if to clear the taste from his mouth, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Wha...what have you done?" the Auror asked, looking horrified.

"If Aric dies," Diggory said with grim satisfaction, "then you die as well, Williamson. You had better hope that the Healers can cure you both."

The Auror suddenly began writhing in pain as the poison took effect, and the Slytherins, except for Theo, all looked impressed. "A fitting punishment, Cyril," Selima said approvingly.

"Never mind that!" Theo said impatiently. "We still have to get Aric to a Healer!" 

"By the way, Theodore," Diggory said with a faint smile, "when I said 'strong spell,' I didn't quite mean for you to hit me with an Unforgivable Curse."

"Sorry," Theo said sheepishly. "I figured an Expelliarmus spell or an Impediment Curse wasn't going to cut it, and that was the strongest spell I could think of that wouldn't kill you outright. Are you okay?"

"I'll live," Diggory replied. "And if we want Aric to, we'd best get him back to the castle."

Just then, Hooch, Blackmore, and Hagrid arrived. "You're late," Diggory said sarcastically.

"I just got the message from Harry and Sirius that Williamson and Amos were near the lake," Blackmore said. "What happened?"

"A Sanguis Veneno spell," Selima told her, and Blackmore's eyes widened in recognition. It didn't really surprise Aric that the demonic Professor Blackmore was familiar with the spell.

"I bit him to help him fight off the poison," Diggory said, "but we have to get him to a Healer right away." As Hagrid and Hooch started to ask questions, he impatiently added, "I'll explain later!" 

Diggory borrowed Hooch's broom to fly Aric back to the castle as quickly as possible; the werewolf had to bind Aric to him by the waist with a magical rope to keep him from falling off, as Aric was in no condition to keep himself upright on a broomstick. The others followed on foot, bringing along their two prisoners with a levitation spell.

When they got to the hospital wing, Pomfrey took one look at Aric and immediately declared that he must go to St. Mungo's.

"I'll take him through the Floo," Diggory said.

"I'll go with him," Dumbledore said. "You should remain here, in case the Aurors decide to arrest you for infecting Aric."

"I'm the one who turned him," Lukas insisted. "I won't abandon him."

"I cannot protect you once you leave the castle, Lukas," Dumbledore warned.

"I don't care," Diggory said stubbornly. "Aric is part of my pack now. I will remain with him until I'm sure he will be all right."

"We don't have time to argue!" Pomfrey snapped. "Go or stay, but someone must take this boy to the hospital!"

So they both took Aric through the Floo, and he was whisked away to a hospital room where several Healers and mediwizards began casting spells on him, treating his bite wound, and pouring potions down his throat. One of them was Takeshi; his face turned sheet-white when he recognized Aric, but he worked quickly and efficiently, his hands steady although his face remained pale. Aric smiled a little, glad that Takeshi was one of the people working on him, not just because of his medical skills, but because he was happy to see Takeshi one more time when he had thought he would never see him again after that night at the clinic.

Finally, Dumbledore and Diggory were allowed to enter the room, along with Lupin, Snape, and Theo, who must have arrived while the Healers had been working on Aric. "He will be bedridden for a few days," the head Healer told them, "and it will take him a couple of weeks to recover completely, but he will make a full recovery, providing that he gets plenty of rest and takes the proper medication." Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, even Snape. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you about that later, Professor," the Healer told Snape. "We didn't have much of the antidote on hand, since it's very difficult to brew and this type of curse is so rarely seen."

"I'll be happy to brew more for you," Snape told him. 

"Thank you," the Healer said gratefully. "We can discuss this further when you have time; I'm sure you're all anxious about Mr. Dietrich. You can visit with him for a little while, but don't wear him out. He needs to get his rest."

Theodore approached the bed, his face filled with relief and his eyes red from crying. "Are you really all right?" he asked.

"I feel like a herd of Graphorns ran over me," Aric replied. "But the Healers say I'll live." He hesitated, then asked, "Theo? Why...why do you care what happens to me? I know I've been a git to you...I thought you hated me."

"You idiot!" Theo said angrily, starting to cry again. "You are a git, and maybe we never got along, but...you're my cousin. You have Rafe's blood in you. I've already lost Rafe...I couldn't stand it if you died as well."

"Theo," Aric whispered, and he realized that he no longer hated his cousin. He wasn't sure exactly when that had happened. But before he could say anything else, his parents and grandparents burst into the room.

"Aric, oh Aric!" his mother cried, rushing to his bedside.

"I'm okay, Mum," Aric said, reaching out to pat her hand, and she began sobbing hysterically.

"You did this!" Karl shouted at Master Diggory. "You still have my son's blood on your lips, you beast! I'll have you sent to Azkaban--no, I'll see you executed for this!"

Aric looked up and saw that there was still blood spattered on Diggory's mouth and the front of his robes, and realized how things must look to his father. "No, Father, don't blame him," Aric said. His voice was still weak, as he was exhausted from both the poisoning and the healing process, but he tried to speak as firmly as he could. "He only did it to save my life. I would have died, otherwise."

"It's true," Takeshi said quietly. "He would have died before he could reach the hospital, without his new lycanthropic healing powers. Even then, we nearly lost him. It was a very close thing."

Aric's family stared at him in shock, and the full impact of what he had done finally hit him. He had deliberately made his blood impure. Would they ever forgive him for that? "I...I asked him to do it," Aric confessed in a shaky voice. "Don't blame Master Diggory. I was so scared...I didn't want to die, even if it meant becoming a werewolf. Do...do you hate me for that?"

His family just stood there, still looking stunned, and Aric felt tears sting his eyes. Lupin started to say something, but Snape stepped forward and said harshly, "Would you rather he were dead? Would you rather have a pureblooded corpse than a living son?"

"No!" Alison cried in horror, and Aric's grandmother began to weep. 

Karl's face turned pale, and he stuttered, "N-no, of course not, but..."

Roderick was leaning on a cane for support, but unlike the rest of his family, he remained calm. There were tears in his eyes, but his voice was steady and grave as he said, "I do not wish he were dead, but the heir of the Dietrich family must be a pureblood. I hereby remove you as heir, Aric. The title will now go to Erika. We will have to find her a husband who is willing to take on the Dietrich name."

"But we can't abandon him!" Alison protested tearfully.

Roderick held up a hand, and she fell silent. "I didn't say that we would. We will provide for him, of course; he just will not be heir. He can continue to live at home, or if he prefers to get a place of his own, I will set up an account for him to draw his living expenses from."

"Which do you prefer, Grandfather?" Aric asked bitterly. "That I hide away on the family estate where no one will see me, or remove my tainted blood from your house?"

"I am being generous!" Roderick snapped. "Most families would disown you entirely! And make no mistake, my generosity is contingent on one condition: you must never have children. If you ever try to sully our bloodline, I will cut you off without a single Knut and throw you out on the street!"

"Don't worry, Grandfather," Aric said, an ironic smile briefly twisting his lips. "I doubt that will be a problem." It had not occurred to him before, but of course the Tierney family would never let their daughter marry a werewolf. He wondered why that didn't make him happier. He could be with Takeshi now...if Takeshi still wanted him. He had plenty of werewolf friends of course, but being friends with a werewolf and sleeping with one were two different things. And even if Takeshi did want him, it came at the price of losing his family. Because even if they were oh-so-generously allowing him to live off their charity, he had lost the family of his childhood, who had loved him without question. Maybe they had never really existed. Maybe they had only seemed to love him because he had never defied or disappointed them up until now.

"And don't worry," Aric added angrily. "I don't want any of your money, not a single Knut! I can take care of myself."

"As you wish," Roderick said curtly, and turned and walked out of the room. His wife followed him, still weeping, without saying a single word to Aric.

His parents lingered behind for a moment. Karl awkwardly placed his hand on Aric's cheek and said, "I'll talk to Father, try and get him to relent a bit. Give him some time to get used to the idea."

"He'll never get used to the idea," Aric said flatly. "And you don't think I should be heir, either, do you, Father?"

"No, I don't," Karl said quietly. "I will always love you, son, but the bloodline must remain pure. You cannot be heir, but that doesn't mean you can't still be part of the family."

"I love you, Aric," Alison sobbed, and bent down to kiss him on the cheek, but his parents' professions of love left him cold. Maybe they did love him, after a fashion, but he could also see the horror and revulsion lurking in their eyes. He was a monster, a beast, to them now. 

Aric rolled over on his side, turning his face away from them. "Go away," he said, and they left without protest. Despite his words, part of him had hoped they would stay, but he was not surprised when they didn't. He began to cry, and he said, "Go away, all of you," but none of the people remaining in the room left.

"I am sorry, Aric," Diggory said, gently placing his hand on Aric's unwounded shoulder. "Perhaps it is no comfort to you right now, but you do still have a family. My pack will be your family, your brothers and sisters, and none of us shall ever betray you."

"Maybe I shouldn't have let you turn me," Aric wept, although he knew that he was being ungrateful. "Maybe it would have been better if I died. Then at least my family wouldn't be ashamed of me."

"You should not be ashamed of your wolf blood," Takeshi told him quietly. "The wolf is regarded as a divine creature in my homeland."

"I don't see what's so godlike about going mad and trying to kill people during the full moon every month!" Aric snapped.

"Don't you know that those who are touched by the gods often walk a fine line between sanity and madness?" Takeshi asked calmly, apparently unfazed by Aric's anger. "The human body and mind are fragile things, not built to contain divine power." 

"Hmm, that's a theory I've never heard before," Lupin muttered to himself thoughtfully.

"That's easy for you to say," Aric told Takeshi in a bitter voice. "You're not the one who's going mad. Your blood is pure; you're not the one turning into a beast every month."

"I never said that my blood was pure, Aric," Takeshi said in a soft voice, and Aric gave him a startled look. "I too, have animal blood."

"But you said that you weren't a werewolf," a confused Aric said. "Were you lying?"

"No, I was not," Takeshi replied. "Let me show you what I am." Smiling beatifically, he threw his head back and spread his arms wide, as if inviting an embrace, and a gust of wind appeared out of nowhere and began to swirl around him, even though the windows in the room were closed. It was not really wind, but a surge of magic so strong that Aric could recognize what it was with no need for his wand or an Aperio spell; it made his skin tingle and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The loose folds of Takeshi's robes billowed out, the cloth rustling softly; his braid came undone and his long hair fanned out behind him, a few loose tendrils floating languidly in the air around his face. Aric felt his breath catch in his throat; the mild-mannered mediwizard no longer looked human--he looked like some divine spirit of the air, an elemental, perhaps, or a creature of Faerie. He looked like a god...

The color began to wash out of Takeshi's lime-green mediwizard robes, fading to white, except at the the edges of the sleeves, where they darkened to black, and then they were no longer robes, but feathers. Meanwhile, Takeshi's black hair was molding itself to his head and likewise turning into black and red and white feathers, and his face narrowed and lengthened into a bird's long beak. And suddenly, standing in front of the hospital bed was a tall, graceful-looking crane, with stilt-like legs and a long, elegant neck. The bird was a pure, snowy white, except for the tips of its wings, which were black, and its head and neck, which were also mostly black, except for a patch of red feathers on the crown of its head, and a small patch of white on the back of its head. The crane's wings were spread wide, as if about to take flight.

Snape, Lupin, and Theo gasped, while Diggory exclaimed, "Well, I'll be damned!" Dumbledore just smiled. Aric, however, was struck speechless and just lay there in bed staring at the bird with his mouth hanging open. The crane flapped its wings, stirring another gust of wind-that-was-really-magic, and the transformation process reversed itself. A few moments later, Takeshi stood before them, human once more.

"Well," he said to Aric with a mischievous but slightly anxious smile, "do you think me a beast, something to be scorned and despised?"

"No!" Aric immediately replied, a little startled by the vehemence of his own response, then blurted out, "You're beautiful!" Then he felt his face grow hot and hastily clarified, "As a bird, I mean! Er...not that you're ugly as a human--far from it! I mean..." He fell silent, realizing that he was babbling and only digging himself in deeper. He heard Diggory chuckle, and felt his face turn even redder. 

"Thank you," was Takeshi's calm and dignified response, although a faint blush had tinged his cheeks as well.

Aric was relieved when Lupin diverted everyone's attention by exclaiming, "You're one of the crane people, like Chizuru!"

Takeshi replied, "Well, not exactly like Chizuru; she is a pure crane, while my blood is mostly human. One of my ancestors was a crane maiden who married a human man several hundred years ago. She got caught in a snowstorm and broke her wing; she would have died except that a human farmer found her and nursed her back to health."

Lupin clapped his hands together like a child being told a fairy tale. "Just like in the legends! And she married him in gratitude, didn't she? And did she weave her feathers into silk?"

"In the version you told me, the crane was rescued by an old married couple who adopted her as their daughter," Snape said to Lupin.

"There are many different versions," Takeshi laughed. "And fortunately, this one had a happy ending. In the fairy tales, the crane maiden eventually has to leave her husband or surrogate parents when they discover her true identity, but my many-times-over great-grandparents remained together until they died, after a long and happy life, surrounded by their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And my ancestress passed down to me her blood, and the gift of transformation, as well as a minor Healing Gift."

"So...can everyone in your family turn into a bird?" Aric asked weakly.

"The crane blood runs only in my mother's side of the family," Takeshi replied. "And not all of them can shapeshift; my mother and brother cannot. The blood seems to run stronger in some than in others, sometimes skipping a generation or two."

"Not unlike inherited lycanthropy," Lupin murmured.

"So I assure you," Takeshi told Aric, "that I do not think any less of you now that you are a werewolf." He walked over to the bed and laid his hand over Aric's. "I'm just glad that you're alive; I don't care whether you're a wolf, a bird, or a monkey!" Despite his joking words, his voice was fervent and shook a little. Then he smiled and leaned down over the bed; his long hair, which was still loose, brushed against Aric's face, feeling cool and silky. "And I'm glad you think I'm beautiful," Takeshi whispered, and Aric felt his face turn red again. 

Takeshi's wire-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, and the mediwizard caught them just before they fell. He straightened up, pushing his glasses back into place, then said in a brisk, professional tone, "Well, I'd better let you get some rest. Professors, please don't stay too long; he needs to rest so that his body can heal." Diggory opened his mouth to protest, but Takeshi anticipated his response and said, "I know you don't want to leave a newly-transformed member of your pack alone, Lukas, so you can stay if you promise to be quiet and let him sleep."

"Yes, sir," Diggory said with false meekness and an ironic little bow.

Takeshi just smiled. "You can use the spare bed tonight; there are no other patients in this room."

"What you really mean is that no one wants to share a room with a werewolf," Aric said, not as bitterly as he might have, because he was still distracted by the sensation of Takeshi's hair brushing against his face. He could swear that his skin was still tingling even though the contact had lasted only for a few seconds, and wondered if this was some sort of magical residue left over from the transformation. 

"Well, at least it means that you get a private room," Takeshi said cheerfully. "I'll let the staff know that you're in here, Lukas, so that they aren't...ah...startled by your presence. Sleep well, Aric."

"You...you will come back later?" Aric asked, unable to keep the pleading note out of his voice, and cringed a little.

"I'll check in on you later," Takeshi promised, smiling gently at him. "Although I doubt you will wake again till tomorrow morning." He stroked Aric's cheek lovingly, his fingers slowly sliding along Aric's skin as if he didn't want the contact to end. "Sleep well, my wolf," he whispered tenderly. Aric gave him a puzzled look, startled by the unusual if apt endearment. "In my dreams, you always appeared to me as a black wolf, although I didn't understand why until now."

"You dreamed about me?" Aric asked, surprised but flattered. Diggory chuckled again and Aric blushed, then realized what Takeshi had said: not just that he dreamed of Aric, but that Aric appeared as a black wolf in his dreams. "Are you a Seer?"

"Not exactly," Takeshi replied. "I'll explain it to you later. It's a rather long story, and you need to get some rest." Aric opened his mouth to say that he wanted to hear the story now, but a yawn emerged instead of his intended protest. "Sleep," Takeshi said sternly. "Healer's orders."

"Yes, sir," Aric yawned, then closed his eyes. He felt Takeshi's hand touch his face one more time, then heard quiet footsteps and the sound of the door closing. He didn't know whether it was some sort of wolf sense, but even with his eyes closed, Aric could feel Master Diggory's presence in the room, a guardian wolf standing watch over him, and it made him feel secure and comforted--the same feeling he used to get when his father had sat beside his bed after he'd had a bad dream when he was small. He shifted his weight slightly, settling in a more comfortable position--or rather, a less painful one, since his entire body ached, especially the bite wound on his shoulder. As his hand slid along the bed, it touched something soft, and Aric opened his eyes. It was a long white feather, about the length of a quill pen; Takeshi must have shed it while he was in his crane form. He ran his finger along it; it felt as smooth and silky as Takeshi's hair.

Clutching the feather in his hand, Aric drifted off to sleep smiling, and his rest was untroubled by any nightmares; instead, he dreamed of birds in flight, and the sensation of silk against his skin.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amos and Williamson are questioned by the Aurors (and Snape and Lupin); the R.A. members face questioning and punishment at Hogwarts; and Aric recovers at St. Mungo's.

Meanwhile, the Aurors had not been idle, and after they left Aric's room, Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin learned that Tonks and Kingsley were in the hospital interviewing Williamson. Snape sent Theodore back to Hogwarts, then joined the others in Williamson's room.

"We've questioned him under Truth Potion, Severus," Tonks said. "He's confessed to staging the werewolf attacks and planting evidence in the Shrieking Shack to frame you--he persuaded Stewart Ackerley to steal the Dark Magic books from the library for him. He also set up Ash's arrest and conspired with Amos Diggory to murder Lukas."

"Were he and Dawlish behind all the hexes, pranks, and threats at the school as well?" Snape asked. "Did he convince Ackerley and his friends to carry them out?"

"No, he doesn't know anything about that," Tonks replied. "And he says that Dawlish had no knowledge of any of his illegal activities."

"Are you sure the Truth Potion you gave him was not defective?" Snape asked skeptically. 

"Not unless you're questioning your own potion-brewing abilities," Kingsley told him. "It was from a batch you brewed for the Order. Dawlish was incredibly shaken when he learned what Williamson had done; he couldn't believe that his partner had been running around committing all these crimes right under his nose. He willingly submitted to questioning under Truth Potion to prove his innocence."

"It does make sense," Tonks said. "I don't like Dawlish very much, but he's known in the Ministry as a by-the-book type. He always follows the rules, whether the rules make sense or not, and he always obeys the orders of his superiors, even if those superiors are incompetent or corrupt. He might use a legal loophole to go after you or Lukas, but he wouldn't break the law and frame you."

"How comforting," Snape said sarcastically.

"I suspect that Williamson was using transfigured dogs in the fake werewolf attacks," Lupin said anxiously. "The victims said they were attacked by two wolves, but only one dog was found in the Shrieking Shack. What happened to other dog? Did he kill that one as well?"

"Aric and Lukas nearly died because of him, and you're worried about the bloody dog?" Snape asked incredulously.

"It's an innocent creature," Lupin insisted. "It shouldn't have to suffer because of its master's crimes."

Tonks cleared her throat to gain their attention and head off a potential argument. "Ahem. Actually, I can answer that question for you, Remus. Williamson got two dogs from a Muggle pound to use as fake werewolves. He killed one dog to plant as evidence, but the other is still alive and well. He was hiding the dog in a flat he rented under a false name, and Frank and Alice are retrieving it as we speak."

"Thank goodness," Lupin sighed.

"The dog is evidence that will be used against Williamson at his trial," Kingsley said practically.

"I felt bad about killing the dog," Williamson muttered from his hospital bed. "But I needed something more dramatic than a couple of spell books and some potion ingredients to frame Snape."

"You felt bad about killing the _dog_?" Snape asked in outrage. "When you were about to murder Diggory in cold blood, not to mention my student Dietrich and your own ally, Ackerley!"

"Diggory's a werewolf," Williamson said scornfully. "A dangerous beast who should be put down; the dog's life is worth more to me than his." He sounded slightly remorseful, but also sullen as he added, "As for the kids, they weren't supposed to be there..."

"Why you--" Snape snarled, his face turning red with fury, and he pulled his wand out of his pocket.

"Severus, no!" Lupin cried.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill him!" Snape demanded.

"Well, for one thing, Tonks and Kingsley would have to arrest you," Dumbledore pointed out reasonably. "And I know that would make them feel very bad."

"Sparing their feelings is my highest priority," Snape said sardonically, but he put his wand away.

The head Healer of the Spell Damage ward had been watching all of this quietly up until now, but he finally spoke. "You don't need to kill him, Professor Snape. His life is already in your hands."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, looking puzzled and suspicious.

"I believe that my colleague already told you that we need more of the antidote," the Healer replied. "We used up nearly our entire supply treating Mr. Dietrich and Mr. Williamson. Mr. Dietrich received a much higher dosage of the poison, since he was hit with a full-strength spell, but his lycanthropic healing powers, in combination with the antidote, will allow him to recover without any permanent damage. Mr. Williamson received only a small dose of the poison, but his body is unable to heal itself the way Mr. Dietrich's can. We managed to stabilize him for now, but his body suffered permanent damage, and he will die unless he receives a regular dose of the antidote each week."

"Every week?" Snape asked. "For the rest of his life?"

The Healer nodded. "That's right. So you see, Professor, his life is in your hands. The antidote to the Blood Poisoning spell is very difficult to brew, even more so than the Wolfsbane Potion. There are only a handful of Potions Masters in the world capable of brewing such a potion, and I believe that you are the only one in Britain with the necessary skill. I consulted with the Apothecary, Mr. Jigger, and he concurs."

Williamson looked dismayed, and Snape smiled at him maliciously. "And are you asking me to brew the potion for this worthless piece of slime?"

"I am," the Healer said solemnly. "As a Healer, I have taken a vow to do no harm. That includes allowing harm to come to a patient through inaction. I must do my best to save this man, no matter what crimes he has committed. However, by law, I cannot force you to brew the potion. If you refuse to brew it, I will try to obtain it from another source, perhaps your friend, Professor Kamiyama. But it is unlikely that I will be able to get enough of it on a regular basis to keep the patient alive."

"I'll brew it for Aric, for as long as he needs it," Snape said in a cold voice. "But not for him." The word "him" was laced with venom and scorn as he glared at Williamson.

"I think you should reconsider, Severus," Lupin said.

"Surely even your admittedly generous sense of compassion must have some limits, Lupin!" Snape exclaimed. "He not only tried to frame me and the werewolves, he tried to kill Diggory and very nearly succeeded in killing Dietrich and--"

"It's not out of compassion or generosity that I'm asking you to save him, Severus," Lupin interrupted, and Snape looked confused. Lupin smiled, but in a rather nasty way, with a very predatory and vicious gleam in his eyes--the sort of expression that one might expect to see on Diggory's face, or Snape's, but that was alien to Lupin's gentle nature. 

"Just think, Severus," Lupin practically purred. "Williamson, who hates and despises you, will be dependent on your charity for the rest of his life. Every breath he takes, every bite of food that he eats, every day that he lives to see another sunrise, he will owe to you, and he will never be able to forget it, since the potion that he has to take every week will remind him that he is utterly at your mercy." Williamson had a look of horror on his face, as if he might be wishing that the poison had finished him off, after all. Lupin's smile grew wider, exposing his sharp canine teeth, and Williamson's face turned white. "So you see," Lupin continued, "I do not think you should let him die, Severus--because death is much too swift and merciful a punishment. I want him to live, and to suffer for what he's done."

Tonks and Kingsley were both a little taken aback by Lupin's speech. "Brrr," Tonks laughed nervously, pretending to shiver. "That gave me the chills, Remus! You sounded almost as bloodthirsty as Severus for a moment!"

But Snape was gazing at Lupin with pure admiration in his eyes. "I'm impressed, Remus," he said. "You would have made a good Slytherin, after all!" Then, to Lupin's surprise and delight, Snape kissed Lupin soundly on the mouth, right there in front of the Aurors and the Healer, and laughed, "I knew there was a reason that I fell in love with you!"

Lupin momentarily forgot his anger and relished this rare public display of affection until Williamson stammered, "B-b-but everyone says that you're--"

"What?" Lupin snapped, turning to glare at the Auror. "That I'm a soft touch? Don't mistake compassion for weakness, Williamson. You not only endangered my students and tried to murder one of my best friends, but you threatened my mate." A low growl rumbled in his throat and he bared his teeth at Williamson, who cringed. "It is never wise to threaten a werewolf's mate or cubs." 

Lupin leaned over the bed, and Williamson whimpered, sinking as far into the mattress as he could, clawing at it with his hands as if he were trying to dig an escape route or a hole to hide in. "And everything else aside, you deserve to suffer just for what you did to that poor dog in the Shrieking Shack! That poor creature died in pain and misery just so you could manufacture some false evidence against Severus--that's despicable!"

"It almost sounds like you're more concerned about the damned dog than me," Snape grumbled petulantly.

"Don't be silly, Severus," Lupin said, managing a smile although anger still smoldered in his eyes. "But you are capable of defending yourself, while the dog was not. It was an innocent animal dependent on its master's kindness, and you used and betrayed it, Williamson."

"Don't preach at me, you--" Williamson started to retort, but Snape interrupted him.

"It would not be wise to insult my lover," Snape purred, a malevolent smile slowly spreading across his face. "Considering that your life is dependent on my mercy--and as all the students at Hogwarts can testify, I have none." Williamson immediately fell silent. "In fact," Snape continued, thoroughly enjoying himself, "I suggest that you apologize to him."

"I apologize," Williamson said through gritted teeth.

"That didn't sound at all apologetic or respectful," Snape said disapprovingly. 

"Please forgive me for my rudeness, Professor Lupin," Williamson said humbly, although he looked as though the effort of it might finish him off where the poison had not.

Apparently the Healer thought so, too, because he quickly said, "I'm afraid the patient must get some rest now, if you want him to live to stand trial."

"We've gotten all we need out of him at the moment," Kingsley said, not sounding particularly concerned about Williamson. "We've arranged to have a guard posted outside his room."

"That's fine," the Healer said. "Although he isn't going to be capable of getting out of bed for at least a couple of days. Professor Snape, I take it that you have decided to brew the antidote? We only have a few more doses left, and aside from Mr. Williamson's needs, Mr. Dietrich will need to continue taking it for a couple more weeks."

"I will brew it--for now," Snape said, giving Williamson a significant look. "I'll start a batch tonight."

"Thank you," the Healer said gratefully, and politely but firmly ushered them out of the room.

*** 

They went to the Ministry of Magic next, to sit in on Amos Diggory's questioning. They were joined by Dawlish, Arthur Weasley, and Morrigan, who came as Lukas's representative, since he refused to leave Aric's side. Dawlish seemed very subdued and uncomfortable, and avoided meeting either Lupin's or Snape's eyes. They all sat down together in a small room that was bare of furnishings except for a long table and several chairs. The bleak gray stone walls and the lack of windows gave it a grim, claustrophobic air--which was quite intentional, as it was meant to intimidate to the suspects who were questioned there.

"Ash Randolf has been released, with the Ministry's apologies," Arthur informed Morrigan.

"Thank you," Morrigan said. "I'm sure that Master Diggory will be relieved to hear that."

"We have a warrant to question you under Truth Potion," Kingsley told Amos, holding up a piece of parchment stamped with the Minister of Magic's seal. 

Amos just remained slumped in his chair, his eyes looking dull and defeated. He put up no resistance when Kingsley ordered him to open his mouth, then poured three drops of Veritaserum onto his tongue. In an emotionless, droning voice, he answered all of the Aurors' questions, admitting to his role as a conspirator in Williamson's crimes.

"I was trying to protect my family's reputation and keep the promise I made to my parents," he said in a hollow voice. "Cyril tried to blackmail me, the way his father blackmailed my parents."

The others looked a little confused, except for Morrigan, who explained, "Master Diggory recently found evidence that his father had hidden years ago, pages from the diary of Lord Cyrus Diggory, which proved that the lycanthropy came from the Diggory side of the family. Unfortunately, Master Diggory tried to handle this privately between Amos and himself, and did not share this information with me until I stopped by the hospital to see him just before I came here."

"I see," Tonks murmured. "He told Amos to back off, or he'd expose the truth about the Diggory family, so Amos decided to kill him."

"It wasn't just about the estate, or even getting the Ministry to release Mr. Randolf," Morrigan said. "He could have handled that through an intermediary, such as myself. But he wanted to learn the truth about how his father died, and he knew that Amos would never discuss such a thing with a stranger or in front of witnesses, so he arranged to meet with Amos alone today, and, well..."

"So how did Cynric Diggory die?" Snape asked Amos, knowing that Selima, as well as Lukas, would want to know the answer to that.

"Cynric went searching through the old family histories, trying to discover clues that might indicate whether the lycanthropy came from our side of the family," Amos replied dully. "Anya did the same with the Gravenor histories, but she found nothing, while Cynric found a reference to a Diggory girl with inherited lycanthropy, whose name had been removed from the official family tree hundreds of years ago. My parents' patience with Cynric was wearing thin, and they were just about ready to disown him. Even if he went public with Cyril's lycanthropy, it would hurt Cyril more than it would hurt us. 

"And even if Cynric tried to claim that the lycanthropy came from our side of the family, without any proof, people would be much more likely to believe it came from the Gravenors, since they were known for practicing the Dark Arts. But then Cynric did find proof that the lycanthropy came from our side of the family, and he threatened to tell the entire wizarding world about it if our parents disowned him. They saw that as a betrayal--an unforgivable offense, especially since our family have always been Hufflepuffs, and prized loyalty above all else."

"They didn't exactly show a lot of loyalty to their own grandson," Snape muttered, but Amos either didn't hear him, or was able to ignore his comment since it wasn't actually a question.

"They decided that Cynric had become a threat that must be eliminated in order to protect the family's reputation," Amos continued. "They sent him a message purporting to be from one of his illegal potion suppliers, claiming to have found a potential cure. The Wizard Wireless Network had predicted a thunderstorm that night; it had been raining all week. So they sabotaged the carriage beforehand, knowing that the crash would be blamed on the storm rather than foul play. It helped that my brother had a reputation for being reckless; flying out in the middle of a thunderstorm was exactly the sort of idiotic thing he would do, and no one really found it suspicious. Well, a few people--mostly Cynric's Slytherin friends--did, but there wasn't enough of an outcry to get the Ministry to launch an official investigation. Most people chalked it up as the usual sort of malicious gossip that the Slytherins like to spread."

"Were you in on the plot to kill Cynric?" Snape asked. Lukas had already told them that Amos had claimed that he hadn't known about it, but Amos had not been under the influence of Veritaserum at the time.

"No," Amos replied. "I loved my brother. As much as I argued with him, disagreed with him, and sometimes even hated him, he was still my brother and I loved him." Those passionate words were uttered in a dull monotone; an eerie contrast that was an unintended side effect of the Truth Potion, which rendered the imbiber preternaturally calm and emotionless. "If I had known what my parents were going to do, I would have tried to stop them. But they did not tell me about it until the carriage had already crashed."

"And what did you do then?" Tonks asked curiously.

"Cynric was dead, and sending my parents to Azkaban wouldn't bring him back," Amos said. "I had to protect them. Right or wrong, they were my family. Besides, it was partly Cynric's fault. He drove them to it. If he hadn't been so stubborn..."

"What about Lukas...er...Cyril?" Snape interrupted. "Whose idea was it to hide him away on the Gravenor estate?"

"Mine," Amos said. "My parents meant for Cyril to die in the crash, too. The message they sent to Cynric said that he should bring his son with him, in order to test the cure right away. The whole point of this was to erase any evidence of lycanthropy in the Diggory family, after all. But while my brother was foolhardy with his own life, he would never do anything to put his wife or son in danger. Well, aside from feeding Cyril experimental potions. But I could have told my parents, if they had asked me, that Cynric wouldn't bring Cyril with him to the meeting--especially if it meant flying in a thunderstorm. So I contacted the Gravenors. We agreed that with Cynric dead and Anya too overwhelmed by grief to function, it was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Cyril."

"So you let the Gravenors do your dirty work, because you were too cowardly to do it yourself," Snape said contemptuously.

Amos just stared at him blankly, still drugged by the potion and unable to summon up enough emotion to take offense. "I didn't want any more blood shed. Lord Gravenor was a sneaky Slytherin bastard, but he loved his daughter. He wouldn't have hurt Cyril, at least while Anya was still alive. The Gravenors had a large country estate in Wales, and agreed to keep Cyril safely confined there. Except that they didn't do their job. He escaped after Anya died. I kept expecting him to show up at the Diggory mansion to confront us, or maybe go to the press or one of his father's friends, but he never did. Maybe he was afraid that we would kill him. 

"Maybe he didn't think that anyone would believe him if he said that he was Cyril Diggory, since Cyril was supposed to be dead. After awhile, I figured he would never show up. And then the war was in full swing, and everyone, myself included, was more worried about the Death Eaters than one stray werewolf. If I had known how much trouble he would cause me later, maybe I would have killed him when I had the chance, when he was still a puppy." A hint of contempt crept into his voice, a sign that the Truth Potion was beginning to wear off.

"I've heard enough," Arthur said disgustedly. "Lukas is your nephew, Amos--it was your duty to protect him as a child, not to lock him up and steal his inheritance!" Then he added in a scathing, sarcastic voice, "But I guess your vaunted Hufflepuff loyalty doesn't apply to werewolves." Snape was impressed; he almost sounded like a Slytherin. He had never seen cheerful, idealistic Arthur Weasley look so angry before. But then, Hufflepuffs were not the only ones who valued loyalty. The Gryffindors did as well, and Arthur considered Lukas to be a friend.

"He destroyed my family," Amos said sullenly. "None of this would have happened if he hadn't been born a werewolf."

"Listen to yourself!" Arthur shouted. "Lukas didn't ask to be born a werewolf! And what difference does it make, anyway? He and his pack risked their lives to fight the Death Eaters and save the very people who made them outcasts. While you, a respected pureblood, plotted to murder your own nephew, and endangered innocent students in the process! Tell me, Amos, which one of you is really the monster? What would Cedric think if he could see you now?" Amos hung his head, and Arthur snapped, "Take him away!"

Tonks and Kingsley escorted Amos to a holding cell, and he went along meekly. His spirit seemed to have been broken the moment he realized that his family's reputation, which he had been willing to commit murder to protect, was utterly ruined.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "He was a friend, once. I wonder if things would have gone this far if Cedric had lived? The thought of his son seeing him as a criminal might have prevented him from stooping to murder. And Cedric was a kind lad; I don't think that he would have held Lukas's lycanthropy against him. Perhaps he would even have tried to encourage a reconciliation."

"Or that might have given Amos even more reason to kill Lukas," Snape pointed out. "In order to prevent his werewolf nephew from 'corrupting' his son, or to keep Cedric from learning that his grandparents committed murder."

"Amos was always very protective of Cedric," Arthur conceded, sighing again. 

"He had the capacity within him to kill, even before Cedric died," Snape said. "He covered up his brother's murder. He handed his nephew over to the dubious care of relatives who despised him. Did you notice that he said Lord Gravenor wouldn't have harmed Cyril while Anya was still alive? Which means that he also knew that the Gravenors would probably kill him if anything happened to Anya. And once she died, Amos doesn't seem to have wasted any time worrying about his nephew's welfare, only about what might happen to his family's reputation if the supposedly dead Cyril Diggory turned up alive. It's a small step from condoning murder to committing it." Snape smiled bitterly. "And believe me, I know. The Dark Lord used that tactic often enough. Most of the Death Eater initiates simply observed kills and sacrifices at first, before graduating to actively participating in them. Although a few, like the Lestranges, needed little encouragement..."

Dawlish gazed at Snape, a very thoughtful expression on his face, until the Potions Master glanced in his direction, and Dawlish quickly looked away. There was a brief awkward silence, which Dumbledore broke by asking, "What will happen to Lukas, Arthur? He won't be charged for infecting Mr. Dietrich, will he?"

"Technically, it's a crime to infect someone with lycanthropy," Arthur said. "But since he did it in order to save his student's life, and Mr. Dietrich consented to it, I think that I can prevent any charges from being filed. Mr. Dietrich is a legal adult, is he not?" Dumbledore nodded, and Arthur continued, "Then his parents cannot press charges in his name. If Mr. Dietrich does not wish to file a complaint, the matter should end there."

Lupin sighed with relief. "Thank Merlin!"

A few minutes later, Kingsley and Tonks returned, along with Frank and Alice Longbottom. Frank was walking a large dog on a leash; it appeared to be a mongrel that was mostly German Shepherd, with one or two other unknown breeds mixed in. Its fur was black on its back, shading to a combination of gray and tan on the rest of its body.

"We found this dog in the flat Williamson rented under an alias," Frank said. "Along with a few of the same ingredients found in the Shrieking Shack, and some notes on the Sanguis Veneno spell. I don't think that there's any doubt that Williamson used this dog, and the one found in the Shrieking Shack, in the 'werewolf' attacks on Pritchard and Baddock. Nor is there any doubt that he tried to frame Professor Snape."

"And the staff at St. Mungo's also retrieved a vial of what turned out to be the so-called Werewolf Potion from the pocket of Williamson's robe," Alice added. "Apparently he intended to plant it on Master Diggory's body after he killed him, in order to link him to Professor Snape and imply that they were conspirators."

Frank and Alice exchanged a look, both of them looking uncomfortable and a little ashamed. "It seems that we owe you an apology, Professor," Frank told Snape. "We doubted your loyalties, despite the fact that Remus and Albus both vouched for you, and despite the fact that by all reports, your help was crucial to winning the war. Like most people in the wizarding world, we had trouble believing that the Death Eaters were no longer a threat. But it turns out that we were chasing shadows--there were no Death Eaters at work here, only a corrupt Auror-turned-vigilante playing on people's paranoia and prejudice."

"So we most humbly and deeply apologize," Alice said.

"We apologize to you, too, Remus," Frank told Lupin. "We should have trusted you, instead of just assuming that you were blinded by love like an infatuated teenager. And we should have listened to Neville, too. He told us once that you always tell your students to judge people by their actions, and not by their Houses or their families."

"Thank you, Frank, Alice," Lupin said quietly. "That means a lot to me."

"It takes a great deal of courage to admit that you're wrong," Dumbledore added, with a sidelong glance at Snape, who just grunted and nodded curtly, not exactly accepting the apology, but not rejecting it, either.

"What will happen to Williamson and Amos?" Lupin asked, changing the subject, and the Longbottoms looked grateful.

"They will have to stand trial," Arthur replied, "but I am certain that they will receive long prison sentences. Amos may get off a little lighter, since it seems that he was mainly following Williamson's lead, and Williamson carried out most of the dirty work by himself. But he's still guilty of attempted murder, and I won't let him get off with a slap on the wrist."

"Whatever sentence he receives, his life has already been ruined," Dumbledore pointed out. "All his crimes were committed in order to protect his family's reputation, and ironically enough, he has ruined that reputation with his own actions."

Snape did not look as though he thought that was punishment enough, but he just scowled and said, "What about Williamson?"

"I'm pushing for a life sentence in Azkaban," Arthur replied grimly. "He not only committed assault and attempted murder and tried to frame you and the werewolves, but he abused his position as an Auror, betrayed the oaths that he took to uphold the law. He betrayed the trust that the people of the wizarding world place in that office."

"You should add animal cruelty to the list of crimes he'll be charged with," Lupin said. "I still remember the look on the face of that poor dog from the Shrieking Shack." He shuddered, then looked over the dog Frank had brought. "Well, at least this one seems unharmed."

"It seems healthy enough," Frank said. "Williamson left plenty of food and water for the dog, and he doesn't seem to have abused it--apart from transfiguring it into a wolf to use in the staged werewolf attacks."

"Poor fellow," Lupin said sympathetically, then held out his hand towards the dog, who tentatively sniffed at it, then licked it. Lupin patted the dog and scratched behind its ears, and the dog barked happily and wagged its tail.

"It seems friendly enough," Frank observed.

"What will happen to the dog?" Lupin asked.

Frank shrugged. "The Ministry will care for it until Williamson's trial is over, since it might be needed as evidence. After that...well, I suppose we'll try to find a home for it." He looked at Arthur.

"Oh no, don't look at me," Arthur said hastily. "Not that I'd mind, but Molly would never allow it. She always put her foot down at getting a dog; she said that looking after seven children was more than enough work for her."

"My flat is too small for such a big dog," Tonks said. 

Lupin looked at Snape with pleading eyes, and the Potions Master snapped, "Don't even think about it, Lupin!"

"But Severus..." Lupin said in a wheedling tone.

"No," Snape said firmly. "I am not having some hairy beast shed fur in my quarters--except for you, of course. Not to mention having it run around knocking over my Potions equipment."

"He seems like a very well-behaved dog, Severus," Lupin objected. "And besides, you do most of your potion-brewing in your workshop, anyway, and I'll be sure to keep the dog out of that room."

"No," Snape repeated.

"But if they send him to the pound, he'll probably be put down," Lupin said, his blue eyes going wide and tearful.

Snape knew it was all an act, but he still felt a twinge of guilt. "Give it to Hagrid, then," he said gruffly. "It'll be happier running around outside than being cooped up in the castle, and I'm sure Hagrid will be thrilled to get another pet."

"Or maybe not," Tonks joked. "It only has one head, after all."

"I'll take him out for walks before and after classes so he won't feel bored or cooped up," Lupin said. "Or maybe I could take him with me to class--"

"No!" Snape said.

"Actually, I have no objection to that," Dumbledore said helpfully, and Snape glared at him.

"But Severus," Lupin said in a childish whine, "you promised that I could have a dog after we moved in together!"

"Are you going to hold me to a promise that I made when I was fifteen or sixteen?" Snape complained. "And anyway, it wasn't a promise, it was a joke!"

"Oh please, Severus," Lupin continued to whine. "Please, please, please!" Tonks, Arthur, and Dumbledore began to laugh, while Kingsley, Dawlish, and the Longbottoms stared at the pair incredulously.

"Oh, cut that out, Lupin!" Snape growled, although he already knew that he was defeated. "Honestly, you behave more childishly than a first-year! What kind of example are you setting for your students?"

Lupin leaned over and cooed into Snape's ear, "Pretty please, Severus?"

Snape's sallow face turned bright red, and he glared at Tonks, who was laughing so hard that she nearly fell off her chair. "Enough!" he snapped, then glowered at Lupin fiercely. "You're the one who's going to feed it and walk it and clean up after it," Snape said in his sternest Potions Master voice, in an attempt to salvage his pride after being publicly henpecked by his werewolf lover. "That beast will be your responsibility; don't expect me to lift a finger to help."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said meekly.

"And I'll expect you to train it properly," Snape continued. "No messes on the carpet or barking in the middle of the night. If it can't behave, then you'll have to give it to Hagrid or build it a doghouse outside the castle."

"Yes, Severus," Lupin repeated. "He seems very well-behaved; I'm sure it won't take long to train him properly." He told the dog, "Sit," placing a hand on the dog's hindquarters and gently pushing down. The dog took the hint and sat, the very picture of obedience. Lupin patted the dog and said, "Good boy," and it wagged its tail happily.

"Oh, very well," Snape sighed. "Although I'm sure I'm going to regret this later."

"Thank you, Severus!" Lupin cried, flinging his arms around Snape and kissing him on the cheek.

"Argh! Cut that out!" Snape shouted. "Merlin's Beard, Lupin, the dog is better behaved than you are! Maybe I should put YOU in the doghouse!" The dog cocked its head to one side and gave the two of them a puzzled but friendly look. "And don't YOU even think about jumping on me, you mangy mutt!" Snape told the dog, who just continued to sit in place and wag its tail. 

"Well, that's settled then," Arthur said cheerfully. "The dog will have to stay at the Ministry for now, but you can have him as soon as Williamson's trial is over. But don't worry, we'll take good care of him in the meantime. And I imagine you will need a little time to prepare for your new pet--to buy dog food and whatnot."

"And move anything breakable out of reach," Snape added sourly. "By the way, Lupin, what do you intend to do with this animal during the full moon? Would a dog regard a wolf as an enemy or a fellow canine?"

"I don't think he's been trained to hunt wolves," Lupin replied. "He'll probably think I'm just another type of dog. There could be a problem if he considers me to be a strange dog intruding on his territory, but even if my body changes, my scent should still be familiar to him, so I don't think he'll attack me, although he might be a little confused. But if he reacts badly to the transformation, we can have Hagrid baby-sit him during the full moon."

"And what about summer vacation?" Snape demanded. "We can't take him to Snape Manor with us."

"Why not?" Lupin asked. "It's a big house; I'm sure there's room enough for one dog."

"If you think you can convince Lady Selima to allow you to bring a dog into the mansion--her beautiful, immaculate mansion filled with expensive rugs and valuable, breakable antiques--be my guest, Lupin," Snape said. "Just don't expect any help from me."

"You'll be a perfect gentleman, won't you?" Lupin crooned, kneeling down to pet the dog. "You'll show Lady Selima what a well-behaved dog you are, won't you?" The dog barked once, as if to voice its agreement, and licked Lupin's face.

"It's your funeral," Snape said with a shrug. 

"Well then, that's settled," Arthur repeated. "We'll let you know when you can pick up the dog, Remus."

"No need," Tonks said. "I'll be happy to drop him off at Hogwarts for you."

"Oh joy," Snape muttered to himself.

As he and Lupin and Dumbledore started to leave, Dawlish called after them, "Snape? Wait just a moment. I...I think that Frank and Alice aren't the only ones who owe you an apology." 

The Auror had a sour expression on his face, as though he had just bitten into a lemon. Snape looked startled at first, then smirked and waited expectantly.

"It seems I was wrong about you this time, Snape," Dawlish said grudgingly. "But don't think that I won't be keeping my eye on you."

"Was there an apology in there somewhere?" Snape asked sarcastically.

"On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I apologize for wrongly accusing you, Professor Snape," Dawlish said through gritted teeth.

"And on behalf of Severus, I accept your apology," Lupin said cheerfully, and Snape glared at him, since he'd had no intention of accepting the apology. In fact, he'd intended to stretch out the Auror's discomfort and humiliation for as long as he could. Blithely ignoring him, Lupin continued, "I know that I could not have expected you to immediately believe in Severus's and Lukas's innocence, since you do not know them as I do. But once you had fixed your attention on them as suspects, you did not bother looking elsewhere. I hope that in the future, you will not be so quick to judge on appearances."

Dawlish flushed as if he were a student being lectured in one of Lupin's classes, and in fact, Lupin had been using the gentle tone of reprimand that he normally used on his students when he felt that they were being unreasonable. If he hadn't disliked the Auror so much, Snape might have felt a little sorry for him. "In the future, I shall be certain to investigate all my cases very thoroughly," Dawlish growled in a low voice, looking both ashamed and annoyed.

"It takes a big man to admit that he's wrong," Lupin said in a placating tone. "I know that it wasn't easy for you to apologize, and I appreciate it, Richard."

Dawlish just grunted and nodded, looking more embarrassed than ever. "I will take my leave, then," he said politely, but the look on his face said that he hoped he wouldn't have to see Lupin and Snape again for a very, very long time.

*** 

Snape, Lupin, and Dumbledore returned to the school, but their work was not yet over: there were still the R.A. members to be interviewed. After thoroughly questioning the three Gryffindor members, along with the testimony that they received from Susan, they were satisfied that Dean Thomas, Andrew Kirke, and Jack Sloper had not been involved in any of the pranks, threats, or hexes, apart from the spiked punch at the Yule Ball. The boys looked very cowed and shaken when they learned the true extent of the R.A.'s activities, including the curse that Susan had suffered and the fact that Stewart had (albeit unwittingly) helped Williamson frame Snape and nearly murder Master Diggory.

"They did all those things, not the Slytherins?" Dean asked, looking stunned. "Hexed Rosier and threatened Harry and cast the Dark Mark at the Quidditch match? Just to make it look like the Slytherins were Death Eaters? And they hurt Susan?" 

Lupin nodded solemnly. "I'm very disappointed in all of you," he said in that soft, almost gentle tone of disapproval that was somehow much more devastating than Snape's shouting. Dean in particular looked like he wished he could sink right through the floor with shame. 

"You especially, Dean," Lupin added, and the boy looked like he was going to burst into tears. "You participated in the final battle, and some of the Slytherins fought alongside you. I would have thought that would help you to view them as individuals, but instead you let yourself be blinded by old prejudices and House rivalries. You should have learned from Peter Pettigrew's example that not all Gryffindors are noble, Dean. And from Severus's example that not all Slytherins are evil. In fact, haven't you three been acting more like stereotypical Slytherins than Gryffindors? Sneaking around, spying on your classmates, and dosing them with potions instead of confronting them directly?"

"I'm sorry, Professor!" Dean said tearfully. "I'm so sorry!" Jack and Andrew muttered apologies as well, their eyes downcast towards the floor.

"You don't just owe an apology to me," Lupin said sternly. "You owe apologies to Dylan and Theodore, who were hurt by the R.A.'s hexes, and to Harry, who was threatened, and to all the Slytherins and Professor Snape, whom you slandered as Death Eaters."

"Yes, I agree that should be part of your punishment," McGonagall said, glaring at her three students. "You will issue formal written apologies to Mr. Rosier, Mr. Snape, and Mr. Potter, and you will publicly apologize to the Slytherins in the Great Hall tonight at dinner, in front of the entire school."

"Yes, ma'am," the three boys mumbled.

"You will serve detention for what is left of the school year," McGonagall continued, "and Mr. Sloper and Mr. Kirke will be banned from the Quidditch team for one year. I would do the same to Mr. Thomas, if he had not already been removed from the team, and is in any case about to graduate."

Jack and Andrew were sixth-years, which meant that their Quidditch careers at Hogwarts were essentially over, since they had only one more year of school left. "Yes, ma'am," they mumbled glumly.

"And thirty points will be taken from Gryffindor for each of you," McGonagall finished. Which meant nearly a hundred points lost from Gryffindor, which would probably cost them the House Cup. McGonagall sent them back to the dorm, and they departed, looking very chastened and miserable.

The next to be interviewed was Corbin Talbott, and Dylan asked to sit in on the session. "A rather unusual request," Dumbledore said. "But you were victimized by the R.A., so it is within your rights."

Corbin's level of involvement seemed to lie somewhere between that of the Gryffindors and the ringleaders, Stewart and Isabelle. It had been Stewart and Isabelle who carried out most of the hexes, but Corbin had been aware of their plans, and he had helped them prepare the threatening note sent to Harry. He had not been aware of Stewart's role in aiding Williamson, though. 

"Do you understand that your malicious pranks could have killed people?" the normally kindly Flitwick shouted at his student. "Dylan and Theodore nearly died because of you!"

Corbin looked frightened, but also sullen and defiant. "We figured the teachers would save them," he said defensively. "And anyway, their fathers killed our relatives! We wanted revenge--"

"There are no Death Eaters in this school!" Flitwick shouted in frustration. "The only crimes that were committed were done by you and your friends and that Auror Williamson!"

"Theodore and Dylan were also victims of the Death Eaters, Corbin," Dumbledore said quietly. "Voldemort and the Death Eaters killed their parents, and tried to kill them, too."

"You believe that the Death Eaters are to blame for the death of your father's aunt, Elin Rosier," Lupin said, his pale blue eyes boring into Corbin's brown ones with an intensity that made the Ravenclaw boy squirm nervously. "Say that you kill Dylan and Theo in revenge. Then their friends and family will likely seek revenge on you. So they kill you, or someone in your family, and then your family retaliates against them, and so on, back and forth, in an endless cycle of blood and revenge. Is that really what you want, Corbin? To keep fighting until both sides are completely wiped out?"

"N...no," Corbin stammered, looking pale and confused. For the first time, his certainty in the virtue of the R.A.'s actions seemed to be shaken a little.

"What will be his punishment?" Dylan asked quietly.

"These are very serious crimes," Flitwick said, looking troubled.

"Serious enough to warrant expulsion, I think!" Snape snarled.

"If that is what you wish, then I won't fight you on it, Severus," Flitwick said reluctantly. "It is within your rights, since your sons were endangered by Mr. Talbott's actions."

"Please, Professors," Dylan said, "don't expel him." Everyone turned to stare at him in surprise.

"He and his friends nearly killed you, Dylan!" Snape exclaimed incredulously.

"Why?" Corbin asked, looking even more shocked than Snape. "Why would you show me mercy, after what I've done to you?"

"Because you are one of the few living relatives I have left," Dylan said softly. "I am the last living Rosier, and all the Donners are dead except for Math, Goewin, and Ariana. Once I wanted revenge on my grandmother, Deirdre, and my uncles, Gwydion and Gilbert, but their deaths brought me no satisfaction, only a sense of emptiness and loss for the family that I never had. Once I wanted to kill Mad-Eye Moody, for his role in my father's death, but...I am tired of hating, and I have seen enough blood and death to last me a lifetime." He glanced over at Lupin, who smiled at him approvingly. "I wish to break the cycle of revenge."

"He doesn't deserve your mercy," Snape said.

"I'm not doing it for him, Professor," Dylan replied. "Well, perhaps a little, but mostly I'm doing it for me."

"This is your doing, Lupin," Snape said accusingly. "You've infected my Slytherins with your idealism."

"It's not Remus's fault, Professor," Dylan said, smiling a little although his gray eyes were still solemn. "It's everything I've seen during the war, and the way that hatred tore apart my mother's family. And Theo's. If Theo and Aric can forgive each other, then I think that I can forgive Corbin."

"Dietrich saved Diggory's life," Snape pointed out, then glowered at Corbin. "You have yet to redeem yourself, Mr. Talbott. However, for Dylan's sake, I will withdraw my request that you be expelled."

Flitwick sighed in relief and smiled at Dylan gratefully. "Then I will take fifty points from Ravenclaw, and sentence Mr. Talbott to detention for the rest of the school year--although I realize that's not much of a punishment, since the year is nearly over. So I hereby sentence you to six months detention next school year, to be served with Professor Snape. I'm sure that you can find something useful for him to do, Severus."

"Oh yes," Snape purred, with an evil glint in his eyes that made Corbin break out into a cold sweat. "Especially since I'll have all summer to think about it."

"Very well, you are dismissed, Mr. Talbott," Dumbledore said.

Still looking confused, Corbin told Dylan, "This doesn't make us friends, you know."

"I know," Dylan replied.

"But I acknowledge that I am in your debt," Corbin added reluctantly, in what seemed to be a formal ritual phrase, and bowed towards him, then left the room. Snape was slightly mollified, remembering how much he had hated being in debt to James Potter.

Dylan got up to leave, too, and Lupin hugged him and whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Dylan."

Dylan hugged him back and said, "It's thanks to you and the Professor that I didn't turn out like Corbin--or my father."

Tristan was questioned next, and his parents, who had remained at the school after the Quidditch match, accompanied him. "How could you have done such a thing?!" a distraught Gwendolyn demanded of her son.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Tristan sobbed. "I'm sorry, I really am! I thought the Slytherins were Death Eaters, and I wanted to punish them for Cedric's death..."

"Oh, Tristan," Gwendolyn said helplessly, "if you had asked me, I could have told you that being sorted into Slytherin doesn't automatically make someone evil. My brother Cynric was a Slytherin, after all."

"You never talked much about him, until we found out Master Bleddri was really your nephew," Tristan sniffled. 

"That's because any mention of Cynric's name seemed to upset Amos and my parents, I thought because they regretted not making peace with him before he died. But it was because it reminded them of their guilt." Gwendolyn began to weep. "I can't believe that my parents murdered my brother, and my brother Amos tried to murder Cyril!"

Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder in a consoling manner, while Snape cleared his throat impatiently. Lupin elbowed him in the side and glared at him.

"What?" Snape said unrepentantly. "We are here to discuss Mr. Ames-Diggory's punishment. They can work out their family problems on their own time."

"Severus!" Lupin said.

"No, he's right," Robert Ames said. "And Tristan, you owe someone besides your mother an apology, I think."

"I'm so sorry, Professors!" Tristan said earnestly, still weeping. "What I did was just as bad as what Uncle Amos and his parents did. I'm just lucky that no one got killed because of me. But Dietrich did get turned into a werewolf, and Master Diggory might be punished for it--"

"The Minister of Magic has assured us that no charges will be filed against Lukas," Lupin said.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Tristan sobbed in relief. "I'll accept any punishment that you give me, Professors. Whatever it is, I deserve it!"

Snape and Lupin looked at each other for a moment, then Snape sighed and shrugged. "I'll leave that up to you, as his Head of House," he told Professor Sprout.

Sprout looked surprised but grateful. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff," she said. "And Tristan will be banned from the Quidditch team for one year."

"Th...that's all?" Tristan asked in surprise, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm not going to be expelled or sent to Azkaban?"

"The Ministry rarely sends twelve-year-old boys to prison, no matter how much they might deserve it," Snape said dryly. "But don't make me regret my decision, Mr. Ames-Diggory."

"No, sir!" Tristan said fervently. "I'm sorry, I really am!" He turned towards Lupin. "I won't judge anybody just on their House ever again. I thought the Slytherins were sneaky cowards, but they were really brave. They helped you fight Williamson and Uncle Amos, and Dietrich risked his life to save Master Diggory. And I was wrong about Harry, too. I thought it was partly his fault that Cedric died, but he said that Cedric was his friend, and he helped me twice, for Cedric's sake, when I fell out of the tree at the party, and when I nearly fell off my broom at the Quidditch match." He hesitated, then added, "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin--"

"Why does that not surprise me, somehow?" Snape muttered, rolling his eyes.

"But I made it put me in Hufflepuff," Tristan continued. "Because I thought Slytherins were evil. And I wanted to be a Hufflepuff like Cedric. I'm proud to be a Hufflepuff, but I see now that I could have been proud to be a Slytherin, too."

"Well, don't expect to switch Houses now," Snape said sourly.

"No, sir," Tristan said gravely. "I don't want to switch, although I'm sorry that I've dishonored my House with my actions."

"Then you must work hard to make up for your crimes and regain the trust of your housemates," Sprout told him sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," Tristan said meekly.

Dumbledore dismissed Tristan, and the Ames family went off to continue their discussion in private. That left only the R.A. leaders, Stewart and Isabelle, and Lupin asked that they be interviewed together. He also asked Dumbledore to call in their parents; he was especially insistent that the Laroque family be present.

"What are you up to, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"You'll see," was all that Lupin would say. 

"I can't believe it," Mrs. Ackerley kept saying. "Stewart must have been misled by the other students and that rogue Auror--"

"No, Mum," Stewart said, his voice firm although his face looked pale and guilty. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I was as bad as Williamson; I wanted revenge and I took the law into my own hands. And--" His eyes filled with tears. "And Master Diggory risked his life to save me, even though I was the one who had put him in danger. And he still defended me even after Williamson told him what I'd done." He turned towards Lupin and Snape. He quailed a bit at the ferocious expression on Snape's face, then gathered up his courage, swallowed hard, and said, "I know it doesn't make up for what I did, and I don't expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry. I'll accept whatever punishment you decide to give me."

"Before we decide Stewart's punishment, I'd like to hear what Isabelle has to say," Lupin said.

"Did you really do all these things that they're accusing you of?" Emilie Laroque asked her daughter tearfully. 

Isabelle nodded, her face expressionless. "Yes. I wanted revenge on the Slytherins for what the Death Eaters did to our family. I know it was wrong. I broke the rules, and I will accept whatever punishment the Headmaster and the Professors decide on."

"I think there's more to it than just revenge, isn't there, Isabelle?" Lupin asked softly, and there was a flicker of surprise and guilt in her eyes. "You didn't even know your uncles Fabian and Gideon; they died before you were born. I find it difficult to believe that you were so attached to them that you would go to such lengths to seek revenge for their murders."

"I wanted to avenge my family's honor," Isabelle said defensively. "And I wanted to make them pay for the way my mother suffered."

Thierry Laroque's eyes narrowed suspiciously, hearing a hint of evasiveness in his daughter's voice. "I think, as Professor Lupin says, that is not the entire truth. You will tell us the truth, Isabelle--now! All of it!"

But the normally sweet and well-mannered girl looked stubbornly defiant, until Lupin said softly, "Does it have something to do with a letter you received from France that made you burst into tears in the Great Hall?"

"What?" Emilie and Thierry chorused, looking startled, and Stewart asked, "What was in that letter, anyway, Isabelle?"

"You told Branwen 'it's over,'" Lupin said, in a gentle yet implacable voice. "You sounded almost relieved to be apprehended. Please, Isabelle, I think you will feel better if you tell us the truth."

And suddenly Isabelle began to weep and she said, "I didn't know whether the Slytherins were Death Eaters or not. I thought they were probably sympathizers at least, but I didn't really care. All I wanted was to go home."

"What?" Emilie and Thierry said again.

"You were homesick, weren't you?" Lupin asked gently. "England was home to your mother, but you were born in France, and it's France that you consider your home, isn't it?"

Isabelle nodded, still weeping. "I had to leave behind my home and all my friends at Beauxbatons, and there was a boy that I liked. He said that he'd wait for me, but then one of my friends wrote to tell me that he'd started dating someone else..."

"WHAT?!" roared Snape. "You mean to say that you endangered my sons, threatened Potter, and incited suspicion and resentment against the Slytherins just because of a little homesickness and a foolish crush on a boy?!"

"I understand how you feel, Isabelle," Lupin said, his voice still gentle, but a little stern as well now. "But your actions put Theodore and Dylan in danger, and they could have been killed, whether you intended it or not. And the atmosphere of distrust that the R.A. created aided Williamson and Amos in their efforts to discredit Professor Snape and the werewolves."

"I didn't intend for anyone to be badly hurt," Isabelle wept. "I thought that the teachers would be able to help Dylan if he fell off his broom, and I didn't know that Theodore would be hit by the Bludger at that other match. I just wanted to scare people with the Dark Mark, make them think that the Death Eaters had come back."

"Not that you wasted much time worrying about them when things did go wrong," Snape said acidly. "After all, they were only Slytherins."

Isabelle hung her head, her long hair falling across her face, and Emilie cried, "But what was the point of doing all these things, Isabelle?"

"Bloody hell, Emilie!" Snape snapped. "Isn't it obvious? She wanted to scare you into moving back to France!"

"I'm sorry, Maman!" Isabelle sobbed. "I thought if it seemed like the Death Eaters were back, then England would no longer be safe, and you would want to move back home."

"But you didn't object when we talked about moving to England," Emilie protested. "And you never told us that you were so unhappy here!"

"How could I?" Isabelle asked, a little bitterly. "All you ever talked about was how we would move back to England when it was safe. You even insisted that we speak English at home, so that I wouldn't 'forget' my native language. Except that it wasn't my native language, and you were the only one moving 'back' to England! How could I want to go back to a place I've never seen? Papa and I are French, not British!"

"I...I didn't know," Emilie said helplessly. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I think she didn't want to disappoint you, dear," Thierry said softly.

Isabelle nodded, weeping. "I didn't really mind speaking English at home if it made you happy. I didn't think that the Dark Lord would ever be defeated, but then he was, and all of a sudden we were moving to England. You were so happy, and Papa was willing to go along with it...how could I say 'no' and ruin it all for you?"

"So instead you decided to frighten and manipulate your mother into moving back to France," Snape said sarcastically, and Isabelle flushed and nodded. And then Snape suddenly remembered that it had taken the Sorting Hat a long time to decide what House to put Isabelle in, and he thought of how cunning and manipulative she had been. He could almost have admired her deviousness, if he and his family had not been the ones victimized by it. "Don't tell me that the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, too," Snape said in a tone of disgust mixed with grudging respect. 

Isabelle seemed a little confused as to whether he wanted her to answer in the negative or not, but finally she said, "Yes, the Hat did want to put me in Slytherin, and I did consider it, since it might have been easier to work against the Slytherins from within. But I thought it would upset my mother if I became a Slytherin, so I asked the Hat to put me in Hufflepuff."

"You might have made a good Slytherin, Miss Laroque," Snape said. "But you made a major mistake when you chose to involve my sons in your little scheme. If it were up to me, you would not only be expelled, but sent to Azkaban!"

There was actually little danger of the latter, since there was no way that the Wizengamot was going to send a pretty, pitiful-looking teenage girl to prison, particularly not when she turned on the tears as she had just done, but Emilie seemed to take his threat seriously. "No, Severus, please, it's my fault!" she cried. "If you're going to blame someone, blame me! It's my fault, I had no idea that I had hurt Isabelle so badly! If I hadn't been so selfish..."

"No, Maman!" Isabelle cried, throwing her arms around her mother. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry! I knew how badly you wanted to come home, but I tried to trick you into moving back to France. I should have tried harder to get used to life at Hogwarts! I'm sorry!"

"You...you were using us all along?" Stewart asked, looking devastated. "That's why you looked upset rather than happy when I told you that the Death Eaters would be captured soon! You didn't want them to be captured, did you? Because then you would have no excuse to go back to France!"

"I'm sorry, Stewart," Isabelle whispered.

"We all trusted you!" Stewart cried. "Maybe we were pigheaded idiots, but we believed in what we were doing! But you--you didn't care whether the Slytherins were guilty or not, so long as you got what you wanted! I thought we were friends!"

"I'm sorry, Stewart," Isabelle said. "I really did like you and Susan and the others, but I wanted so badly to go home..."

"Don't you know that if you had just asked me, I would have helped you?" Stewart said, his eyes filled with tears. "Even if it meant that you would leave us, I would have helped you find a way to go home if that was what would make you happy. Because I love you, Isabelle."

"I'm sorry, Stewart," Isabelle repeated, a tear trickling down her face. "I really am sorry for what I've done. You were a better friend to me than I deserved."

"And I think that French guy who wouldn't wait for you is a real idiot," Stewart added, with a bittersweet smile.

Isabelle gave him a tremulous smile before bursting into tears again. Emilie wrapped her arms around her daughter and held her close. "Thierry," she said, gazing at her husband tearfully, "did I hurt you as well? Did you really want to move to England, or were you sacrificing your happiness for my sake?"

"I was a little sad to be leaving my homeland, but I did it willingly," Thierry replied with a smile. "I can be happy anywhere, so long as I'm with you. But if I had known that Isabelle was unhappy about moving, I would not have agreed so quickly." He frowned sternly at his daughter. "You should have been honest with us, Isabelle, instead of resorting to hurting innocent people. We could have sat down together and talked it over, and decided what would be best for all three of us."

"I didn't want to disappoint Maman," Isabelle mumbled.

"And you think that this doesn't disappoint her?" Thierry asked pointedly. "Lying, committing crimes, hurting and threatening people?"

"I'm sorry," Isabelle whispered.

"Isabelle was wrong," Emilie said. "But I was, too. I refused to let go of the past. I lived in exile grudgingly, refusing to completely open my heart to my new home. I decided to move back to England after the war, never once considering how my husband and daughter might feel about it. I took my daughter away from the only home she had ever known." She gently stroked Isabelle's cheek. "Perhaps it's time to let go of the past and make a new start." She looked up at Lupin. "And thank you, Remus, for opening up my eyes, when I was blind to my daughter's pain. How did you know?"

"It was an educated guess," Lupin said. "I wasn't sure, at first, but once I learned that Isabelle had created the R.A., I was pretty sure of the motives behind it. You see, we have two other students who come from other countries. Gabrielle Delacour is from France as well, and she was terribly homesick at first, although it helped that both Isabelle and Dylan befriended her. And Aric Dietrich is British, but he attended Durmstrang for six years. He...er...had difficulty adjusting to a new school, and he didn't get along with his new housemates. I often heard him mention how much better things were at Durmstrang than at Hogwarts. But Isabelle seemed to adjust effortlessly, and never complained about missing France or her old friends at Beauxbatons. And I remember how you scolded her a little for speaking French instead of English at the Yule Ball." 

Emilie flushed with shame, and Lupin continued, "A very gentle, mild scolding, but Isabelle switched languages instantly, and she didn't seem resentful, only eager to please you. We talked once by the lake, too, and she mentioned how much you had wanted to come back home to England."

"I remember that," Isabelle said, looking startled, as if she had forgotten all about the incident. "You were worried that I might be homesick, and you told me I could come talk to you anytime. And you told me a little about Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian when they went to school with you."

"I wish that you had confided in me," Lupin said with a sad smile. "I would have tried to help you tell your mother how you felt without hurting her feelings."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Isabelle said, finally looking--at least to Snape's eyes--truly remorseful about what she had done, and not just sorry that she had been caught. "You were kind to me, and I hurt your family. I wasn't thinking about anyone or anything but myself and what I wanted. I'm sorry."

"I know that you are," Lupin said softly. "But you endangered my cubs and my mate, and that is a difficult thing to forgive." 

Isabelle flushed with guilt and shame, and Snape marveled once again at how Lupin could use his quiet, gentle voice to such devastating effect on the students. Snape wished that he could pick up the knack himself, but he didn't really do "gentle" very well. He supposed that he would have to stick to "threatening" and "menacing".

"But I will accept your apology, if you will do something for me in return," Lupin continued.

"Anything, sir!" Isabelle said eagerly.

"Be honest from now on, and tell people how you feel, instead of trying to manipulate them into doing what you want," Lupin said solemnly. "And think about how your actions might affect other people before you carry them out."

"I will, Professor," Isabelle whispered. "I promise."

"I am not so forgiving as Professor Lupin," Sprout said, frowning at Isabelle angrily. "Aside from all the other crimes you committed, Miss Laroque, you betrayed the trust of your housemates by lying to them and manipulating them. And you are responsible for the hexes that hurt Miss Bones, who was one of your best friends."

"And I suppose the hexes cast on the Slytherins don't matter to you," Snape muttered under his breath.

"Of course they do!" Sprout snapped, although she looked a bit guilty. "But the point I am trying to make is that Hufflepuff House is founded on loyalty. Miss Laroque betrayed that loyalty, so she is no longer welcome in my House."

"If I am not mistaken, the Laroques will be moving back to France soon," Dumbledore said. Thierry looked at Emilie, who nodded.

"Are you sure, Maman?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes," Emilie said, kissing her daughter on the forehead. "My home is wherever you and Thierry are, 'Belle. So let us all go home together."

"So let us say that Miss Laroque was asked to leave Hogwarts, and went voluntarily," Dumbledore said. "Will that satisfy you, Severus?"

"I think she deserves more than expulsion," Snape growled. "But so long as she never comes near me or my family again, I'll go along with it. I must admit, I do prefer to have her living in a different country. But I would advise you not to return to England anytime soon, Miss Laroque. Like Professor Sprout, I am not as forgiving as Lupin is."

The Laroques departed, and the Professors turned their attention back to Stewart. "I guess I should start packing my bags, too," he said quietly.

"Surely you can see that the Laroque girl was partly to blame!" Mrs. Ackerley argued. "Certainly he should be punished, but not expelled--"

"No, Mum," Stewart interrupted. "I deserve it."

"No, I think he should stay," Lupin said.

Stewart stared at him in shock. "But...after everything I've done..."

"I'm not being merciful to you, Stewart," Lupin told him. "In some ways, leaving the school would be the easier choice--to run away and not have to face the scorn and anger and disappointment of your fellow students and your teachers."

Stewart hung his head, knowing Lupin was right. He couldn't even meet Flitwick's eyes, and he dreaded having to face his housemates. The prospect of having to deal with the Slytherins and continue taking classes from a wrathful Snape wasn't exactly appealing, either. "I'm sorry, sir," he told Flitwick. "I've dishonored my House."

"I'm very disappointed in you, Stewart," Flitwick said. "I know that your father's death was hard on you, but that doesn't justify what you've done. I expected better from someone who was planning to be an Auror. It is the duty of an Auror to uphold the law--and you can see from Williamson's example what happens when someone tries to take the law into their own hands."

"And I think that you have already suffered a punishment worse than any we could give you," Lupin said softly. "You will never be able to become an Auror now."

Stewart had not really thought about it, but once again, Lupin was right. He would never be admitted into the ranks of the Aurors with this black mark on his record. His dreams of becoming an Auror like his father were ruined, and he had no one to blame but himself.

"I don't deserve to be an Auror after what I've done," Stewart said. His eyes welled with tears, and he felt a sense of emptiness and despair. He had never considered becoming anything but an Auror, and he had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

Snape had been about to object that they were letting the boy off too easy, but he changed his mind when he saw the look on Stewart's face. He felt a new respect for his softhearted Gryffindor lover; Lupin had immediately zeroed in on the punishments that would most hurt Williamson and Ackerley, while Snape would have gone for something more dramatic but ultimately less devastating. "You would have made a good Slytherin," Snape whispered to Lupin. The werewolf smiled at him, but looked distracted and concerned. He was still softhearted enough to feel some pity for Ackerley, then, even if he had none for Williamson.

"Fifty points from Ravenclaw," Flitwick said. "And as for detention--"

"If I may, Filius?" Lupin interrupted, and Flitwick nodded. "You cannot undo the harm you caused, Stewart," Lupin said. "But perhaps you can attempt to atone for it, by helping some of the people that you've wronged."

"I'll do anything I can," Stewart said without hesitation. "What did you have in mind?"

"The charity clinic in Diagon Alley is always short-staffed, and will likely be even more so during the summer, since the mediwizard who normally runs it will be going on vacation soon. And since Master Diggory and his pack were harmed by Williamson's actions, I think it would be appropriate for you to volunteer your time there during the summer."

"I will if you think I should, sir," Stewart said, a little doubtfully. "But are you sure that they'll want me there, after what I did? I spied on Master Diggory for Williamson, and I believed him when he said that the werewolves were involved with the Death Eaters."

"Well, I'll have to talk it over with Lukas first," Lupin replied. "But I think that he'll agree to it. He did come to your defense, after all. And you redeemed yourself slightly when you tried to stop Williamson from attacking Lukas."

The thought of facing a pack of angry werewolves was almost as intimidating as the thought of a wrathful Snape. Stewart went a little pale, but nodded. And the thought of doing something constructive eased the feeling of emptiness inside him a little. "Then I'll work at the clinic, if Master Diggory agrees to it. He...he won't be punished for biting Dietrich, will he?"

"No, he will not, as he did it only to save Aric's life," Lupin said, and Stewart sighed in relief.

"You are dismissed, Mr. Ackerley," Dumbledore said sternly. "And I hope you will think twice before acting in the future. You have been given a second chance thanks to Professor Lupin, but you will not receive a third."

"That won't be necessary, sir," Stewart promised fervently. He and his mother thanked Lupin, and a little more nervously, Snape, who just grunted, and then they left.

"By the way, what will happen to Susan?" Lupin asked Sprout.

"I took twenty-five points from her," Sprout replied. "It would have been fifty, but I believed that she deserved some credit for coming forward once she learned what Laroque and Ackerley were up to. And she will be serving detention with me over the summer, helping me tend the plants in the greenhouses."

"Well, I guess that wraps everything up, then," Lupin said, looking tired and relieved.

"Not quite," Dumbledore said with a smile. "There are still a few points to be taken, and handed out."

Allegra and Portia were summoned to the Headmaster's office, and McGonagall sternly told them, "You broke the rules by going off alone, and recklessly put yourselves in danger--not to mention the fact that you thereby endangered the lives of your brother and his friends when they insisted on searching for you, Miss Zabini."

"Yes, Professor," Allegra said, hanging her head, the normally irrepressible girl looking unusually subdued and chastened. "I'm very sorry. Please don't punish Portia. It's not her fault; she tried to talk me out of it. I made her come with me."

"No, I'm just as much to blame as Allegra," Portia said stubbornly. "I chose to go with her, even though I knew we were breaking the rules. I wanted to prove that I could be brave, like a real Gryffindor."

Snape let out a little snort of laughter. "Brave, yes, and utterly lacking in common sense--a true Gryffindor indeed, Miss Pettigrew," he said wryly.

Portia gave him an uncertain look, not sure whether she was being insulted or complimented, but Allegra grinned at Snape and then Portia smiled at him tentatively.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for each of you!" McGonagall snapped, and the girls looked crestfallen.

"Yes, ma'am," they said meekly.

"Does Gryffindor even have any points left, after what was taken from Thomas, Sloper, and Kirke?" Snape wondered out loud, and Allegra groaned.

"However," McGonagall said, the corner of her mouth lifting a little, "you did show great courage in fighting Amos Diggory and Ian Williamson, and Miss Pettigrew did save Master Diggory's life. So I hereby award thirty points to Miss Zabini and sixty points to Miss Pettigrew." Which reduced the total points lost to only ten.

The girls beamed at each other. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall!" Allegra said.

"But the next time you see something suspicious, get a teacher instead of trying to handle it by yourself," McGonagall said sternly.

"Yes, Professor," Allegra said obediently, but Snape doubted very much that she was going to be able to stay out of trouble in the next six years. 

Apparently McGonagall thought so too, because she sighed wearily and said, "The two of you are dismissed, then. Do try to stay out of trouble at least until school ends."

"Yes, Professor!" they chorused, and ran out of the office giggling.

"Do you really think they can manage to stay out trouble for an entire week?" Snape asked, and he wasn't being completely sarcastic.

"And here I was thinking that things were going to be a little dull at Hogwarts after Harry graduated!" Lupin said with a grin.

"Merlin forbid--a female pack of Marauders!" Snape said, shaking his head. "Just make sure that Potter doesn't pass the map on to them." 

Dumbledore just chuckled, and summoned Blaise, Theodore, Dylan, and Serafina to his office next. "Well, you did put yourselves in danger, but as Professor Lupin allowed you to join the search party, I cannot dock points for that," the Headmaster said.

"It's more like Professor Lupin was badgered into allowing them to come," Lupin grumbled good-naturedly. "But technically, yes, I did give them permission."

"Will you allow me to do the honors, Severus?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and Snape nodded. "Thirty points each to Mr. Zabini, Mr. Snape, and Mr. Rosier. And to Miss Avery, whose Healing training and quick thinking helped save Mr. Dietrich's life, fifty points." 

The Slytherin students grinned at each other. "That's a bit measly, don't you think, Albus?" Snape objected, but he was smiling faintly, although his black eyes glowered at the Headmaster.

"I'm not finished, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And to Mr. Dietrich, who was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice in order to save another's life, I award one hundred points to Slytherin." The four Slytherins cheered and clapped, as did Lupin, while Snape just smiled smugly. "It's a pity that he couldn't receive his points in person, but I didn't want to wait to acknowledge his heroism. Theodore, perhaps you can convey the good news to your cousin when you visit him at the hospital tomorrow."

"I'll be happy to, sir!" Theodore said, grinning widely.

"You know what this means, don't you?" Dylan asked excitedly. "We're bound to win the House Cup this year!"

"The final tally has yet to be made, Mr. Rosier," Dumbledore reminded him with a smile. "But Slytherin certainly has reason to be confident."

Flitwick, Sprout, and McGonagall sighed regretfully. They knew that the massive amount of points they had just deducted had probably taken their Houses out of the running for the Cup, but they couldn't let the R.A. members' actions pass unpunished.

"Oh, and by the way, Minerva," Snape said with a grin, "you owe me fifteen Galleons for our little bet. I nearly forgot in all the excitement, but Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup today."

McGonagall glared at him for a moment, then laughed. "All right, Severus. I'll have your fifteen Galleons ready for you by dinner tonight."

"Damn, Slytherin won the Cup and I missed it!" Snape said regretfully. "I spent the entire match in the hospital wing trying to retrieve Miss Bones's memories!"

Lupin smiled proudly, pulling a small golden sphere out of his pocket. "Oh, but you didn't miss it, Severus. I recorded the match for you--you can watch it as many times as you like. My heart nearly stopped when Draco fell off his broom, though."

"No matter; he survived, didn't he?" Snape said airily, taking the sphere from Lupin. A smile of deep satisfaction slowly spread across his face; he could watch Slytherin's moment of triumph over Gryffindor not just once, but over and over again...as many times as he liked. Lupin laughed at the expression on his face, then wrapped his arms around Snape and kissed him. And Snape was so pleased, that he didn't object to this public display of affection, and even kissed Lupin back.

*** 

Takeshi was supposed to be off on Saturday, but he arrived at St. Mungo's early in the morning to check on Aric. He found the Slytherin boy sleeping soundly, clutching a white feather tightly in one fist. Takeshi laughed softly, feeling very touched. Lukas had stayed with Aric throughout the night, and was asleep in the other bed. Takeshi worked quietly, changing the bandages and dressing on Aric's bite wound without waking either of them. Then he went to check with Smethwyck on Aric's progress.

The Healer looked relieved to see him when Takeshi knocked on his office door. "Ah, Mr. Kimura, I'm glad to see you. I thought you might come in to check on your young friend."

"I just changed his bandages; the bite wound seems to be healing properly," Takeshi said. "How is he recovering from the poisoning?"

"Very well; much better than we expected," Smethwyck told him. "It must be due to his lycanthropy. He should be able to return to Hogwarts in a few days. You know, as a newly-turned werewolf, his healing powers are actually much weaker than they will be after he undergoes his first transformation. I'm not sure that the Blood Poisoning spell would actually have killed Master Diggory even if it had struck him as Williamson intended."

"Williamson is a sadist," Takeshi said contemptuously. "He could have just used a Killing Curse, but I think that he wanted to watch Lukas suffer."

"Well, perhaps we should be grateful for that," Smethwyck said soberly. "Even a werewolf cannot survive a Killing Curse. Your friend would be dead if he had been struck by that spell instead."

"You're right," Takeshi said, his knees going a little wobbly at the thought, and he clutched at the door frame for support. 

"Are you all right, Mr. Kimura?" Smethwyck asked in alarm.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Takeshi assured him. "The thought of Aric being hit with a Killing Curse just shook me up a little."

"Ahem," said a voice from within the office. It sounded like Augustus Pye, but Takeshi didn't see anyone in the office besides Smethwyck. 

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Pye," Smethwyck said. "I got a little wrapped up in my conversation with Mr. Kimura, and I almost forgot you were there." The Healer stepped back and ushered Takeshi into the office, and he saw that there was a communication mirror sitting on Smethwyck's desk. Pye's face smiled at him from within it. 

"Actually, I'm glad that you're here, Mr. Kimura," Smethwyck said. "I know it's your day off, and I hate to ask this of you, but since you're already here, would you mind working overtime today? It seems that Mr. Pye won't be able to come in today."

"I'm really sorry, Takeshi!" Pye said. "I know you already covered for me yesterday, and it sounds like you had quite a bit of excitement going on at the hospital, too! I swear that I'll make it up to you!"

"It's all right, I was going to stay to keep an eye on Aric, anyway," Takeshi said, feeling a little puzzled. "But why aren't you coming in?"

"I've eloped!" Pye exclaimed, grinning as he held up his left hand, which was now sporting a gold wedding band. "Actually, I'm in France right now with my new bride!"

"What?!" Takeshi exclaimed. "Did the party go well, then?"

"No, the party was a disaster!" Pye said cheerfully. "My girlfriend's parents had decided to betroth her to another guy, from an old and wealthy Slytherin family. I was trying to make a last-ditch effort to persuade them to change their minds when we got the news that Miranda's fiance had been bitten by a werewolf."

"W-wait a minute!" Takeshi stammered. "You mean to say, your girlfriend is Miranda Tierney?!"

"Oh, do you know her?" Pye asked. "Come say hello to Takeshi, honey."

A pretty blonde girl squeezed into the mirror frame and waved at Takeshi. "Hello!" she said. "Thanks for covering for Gus! Sorry to spring this on you at the last minute."

"I...I don't know Miranda," Takeshi said, feeling a little dazed. "But I do know her fiance. Or her ex-fiance, rather."

"That's right, Healer Smethwyck said that you're friends with the poor fellow who got bitten," Pye said. "I do feel bad for him, and I would never wish such a fate on anyone, but...well, I do have to admit that it worked in our favor. When the news arrived, an uproar broke out at the party, and we were able to sneak out in the confusion."

"I know someone who has a Portkey to France, and I bribed him to send us through," Miranda said. "And we got married before my parents could figure out where we'd gone and try to stop us. We'll honeymoon here for a few days, and by the time we get back, things should have cooled down a bit. My parents won't be happy, but I think they'll accept it. Gus is a pureblood, even if his family isn't as old or wealthy as the Dietriches, and it'll be much less scandalous for me to be married to him than engaged to a werewolf."

"How nice that everything worked out for you, then," Takeshi said coldly.

Miranda flushed. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. Aric seems like a nice guy, and I'm sorry that this happened to him. He didn't want to marry me in the first place, so I didn't think he'd mind if I eloped with Gus, and my parents would have broken off the engagement even if I'd stayed. Is he going to be all right? If there's anything we can do help him..."

She sounded sincerely concerned, and Takeshi softened a little. "He'll be all right, although it will take a couple of weeks for him to heal completely."

"But what about his family?" Miranda asked softly. 

She was a pureblood, and she knew how purebloods reacted to someone whose blood became tainted. Miranda was not what Takeshi had expected; he had expected someone spoiled and snooty. And he hadn't realized that she was so pretty. She seemed like someone that Aric might have been willing to marry, had he not been in love with Takeshi. Like someone he might have eventually come to accept, even like, perhaps even love, if he had gone through with the arranged marriage. And Takeshi felt a twinge of jealousy, although he knew that he was being ridiculous. He knew that Aric loved him, after all, and Miranda was obviously smitten with Pye.

"His family reacted, well...as you might expect," Takeshi replied. "They did not disown him outright, but the heirship was taken from him. But he does have friends who will stand by him, myself included."

Miranda and Pye exchanged a look. "We'll stand as his friends, too, if you think that won't be too awkward," Pye said solemnly. "I mean, with me marrying his fiancee and all. But Miranda says that he didn't want the marriage, that it was all his parents' idea."

"Won't your family object to you befriending a werewolf?" Takeshi asked Miranda.

"Probably," she replied. "But I've already defied them once." She grinned at Pye. "I find it quite liberating. They can disown me if they want, but it will only cause more of a scandal by drawing everyone's attention to it if they do." She added playfully, "Besides, I'm a married woman now. I answer only to my lord husband."

Pye smiled at her, looking completely infatuated, and Takeshi had no doubt that Miranda had her "lord husband" wrapped around her little finger. "I'd like to get to know Aric," Pye said. "I imagine I'll be meeting him eventually, anyway, since I'll be working at the clinic this summer."

Takeshi decided not to mention right now that he intended to take Aric back home with him to meet his family in Japan. He hadn't even discussed the matter with Aric yet. He wanted to give Aric some time to get adjusted to being a werewolf before further stressing him by proposing a trip to meet his new in-laws. "I'll introduce you to him when you get back from your honeymoon, then," was all that Takeshi said to Pye.

"And I'll help at the clinic, too," Miranda volunteered. "To make up for you taking Gus's shifts. I'm not really much good at potion-brewing, but I could help with the paperwork."

Takeshi's opinion of her rose another notch, but he was surprised, given her background. "That would be very helpful," he said politely, but his shock must have shown on his face, because Miranda grinned mischievously.

"Oh, my parents won't like that either, but what they don't know won't hurt them. It's not like any of their friends are likely to stop by the clinic. Anyway, even if they do find out, I don't care what they think. And I think it will be fun helping Gus at the clinic. I've never met a werewolf before." Miranda's eyes gleamed with excitement. Takeshi had almost forgotten that some of the young purebloods got a thrill out of seeking out the forbidden; most of Ash's customers were wealthy young purebloods, after all. Buying Muggle toys was a relatively harmless way for them to rebel, and before all the bad publicity generated by Williamson's fake werewolf attacks, the werewolves had become glamorous figures to many of the young wizards. Maybe the wolf-shaped good luck carvings would come back into fashion now.

"Well, I have met Aric, of course," Miranda continued. "But he wasn't a werewolf when I met him, so I guess that doesn't really count."

"He is the same person that he was before," Takeshi said quietly. "The only difference is that he will transform into a wolf once every month. But his heart and his soul are still the same."

Miranda's expression turned a little more serious, at that reminder that the werewolves were real people, and not just stories in the Daily Prophet. "Well, Gus says that you're an expert on werewolves, so I guess you would know. I don't really know Aric; we only talked for a little while at the Quidditch match yesterday. But he must be brave, if he risked his life to save his teacher. Although truthfully, that sounds more like the sort of thing a Gryffindor would do."

Takeshi smiled. "Slytherins can be brave, noble fools, too, it seems."

"Thanks for covering for me, Takeshi," Pye said. "We'll be back in a few days, and you can meet my lovely bride in person."

"You're welcome, and congratulations on your marriage, Augustus," Takeshi said, and Pye beamed at him. "I must confess that I'm a little confused, though. You never mentioned that your 'future Mrs. Pye' was betrothed to someone else."

"Well, it's kind of complicated," Pye said. "We met at a nightclub several months ago..."

"I was hitting all the clubs, celebrating my freedom after graduating from Beauxbatons," Miranda continued, smiling impishly. "I have a reputation for being a little wild, you know. Well, at least it seems that way to the stuffy old pureblood ladies who sit around gossiping over tea all day. Anyway, I was flirting with a handsome young man, when the girl he was with took exception and tried to smash a beer bottle into my face." She sniffed disdainfully, looking a bit more like the spoiled pureblood that Takeshi had been expecting. "Obviously a very common, low-bred wench."

"And what do highborn wenches do when someone tries to steal their boyfriends?" Takeshi inquired.

"Nothing so crude as that!" Miranda said scornfully. "Personally, I would have cast a hex--covered my victim's pretty face with a lot of ugly warts or something."

"I would still love you even if you were covered with warts, my dear," Pye said loyally.

Miranda smiled. "Anyway, my face did get cut, although not very badly. And Gus happened to be at the club that night with some friends from St. Mungo's, and he came over and tended my wounds. He was very sweet and gallant, and he did a good job with the healing spells, too." She gestured at her face; her skin was flawlessly fair and smooth. "See? No scars."

"So we started dating," Pye said, picking up the story. "Things got serious, and eventually Miranda brought me home to meet her parents. And then we got a big shock."

"Gus is a pureblood, so I didn't think they'd object," Miranda said. "I thought they'd be pleased that I settled down and wasn't 'running wild' anymore."

"But they decided that I wasn't good enough for Miranda," Pye said, still looking a little hurt at the memory. "My blood may be pure, but my family doesn't have much money or influence. I do have a good job at St. Mungo's, but Miranda's parents wanted something more. They wanted Miranda to make a 'socially advantageous match'. They said it would be a waste for her to marry me, because my family had nothing to offer them."

"That's when they began negotiating a marriage alliance with the Dietrich family behind my back," Miranda said. "And then the next thing I knew, I was being whisked off to France with my parents. I didn't even have time to say goodbye to Gus."

"She tried to send me letters, but her parents kept intercepting them, so I didn't know that the betrothal contract had actually been signed," Pye said. "I knew that they were trying to find a 'more suitable' husband for Miranda, but I didn't realize just how far things had gotten. I kept thinking that they would come around eventually. When Miranda got back from France, she managed to sneak my name onto the invitation list for her mother's birthday party."

"My father's secretary wrote up and sent out the invitations," Miranda explained. "She doesn't know Gus, so he was just another name on the list, and she didn't think anything of it."

"I thought I'd make one last-ditch attempt to get them to change their minds," Pye said earnestly. "Healer Smethwyck told me I'll be promoted to full Healer status soon, and I thought that might make a difference with them. I thought if I could just convince them how much we love each other, and that I would take good care of Miranda, that they would change their minds."

Pye had been a Gryffindor at Hogwarts. He was an idealist and a romantic who believed that love would triumph over all. But Takeshi could see from the sad and slightly cynical smile on Miranda's face, that she had known Pye's efforts probably would have failed.

"And I was trying to work up the courage to run off with Gus, if necessary, and let my parents disown me," Miranda said.

How ironic; it seemed that Aric and his fiancee had shared the same problem all along, unbeknownst to each other. "It's not easy, to cut yourself off from your family," Takeshi said sympathetically.

"Well, I don't think that will happen," Pye said cheerfully. "Miranda's parents were pretty upset when we told them that we had eloped, but so far they haven't disowned her yet. So anyway, I didn't mean to mislead you, Takeshi, but it seemed too complicated to explain the whole story to you, so I just said that I needed the day off to attend my girlfriend's mother's birthday party. But I would have told you the whole truth if I had known that Miranda's fiance was your friend."

"That's all right," Takeshi said. After all, there were quite a few things about himself and Aric that Pye didn't know, but he didn't think that this was really the time and place to get into it. "I'm happy for you two, and I can guarantee that Aric won't be upset about your marriage. If anything, he'll probably be relieved."

"Oh, that's good," Pye said, looking relieved himself. "Well, goodbye, then. We'll bring back some souvenirs from France for you!" 

"Enjoy your honeymoon," Takeshi told him, then left the office and got to work. He tended to Pye's patients, checking on their conditions and dispensing medication when necessary. He was glad that Williamson had been put in a different ward, because Hippocratic oath or not, he didn't think that he could bring himself to treat the man who had nearly murdered his mate. He had heard that Snape had agreed to brew the antidote potion, and he took a bit of vindictive pleasure in knowing that Snape would go out of his way to make Williamson's potion as foul-tasting as possible--and the antidote wasn't particularly pleasant to begin with.

After he'd made his rounds, he went back to Aric's room to see if he was awake, and was alarmed to find Lukas helping a pale and sweaty Aric hobble across the room and climb back into bed.

"What happened?!" Takeshi exclaimed.

"Nothing," Aric said, looking embarrassed. "I just needed to go to the bathroom, that's all."

"I was asleep," Lukas said dryly, "and instead of waking me up or calling for a nurse, he decided to get up on his own, despite having been bitten by a werewolf and having received a dose of poison that would have killed an elephant. He actually did make it there on his own somehow, but he collapsed on the way back, and the crash woke me up."

Aric flushed. "Using a bedpan is rather humiliating, and all the students at Hogwarts have an aversion to them, anyway."  "Yes, I do remember that bedpan-scrubbing is Professor Snape's favorite punishment," Takeshi said. "But you can always ring for help if you need it." He pointed to a rope hanging from the ceiling, which would ring a chime when pulled on, that would summon a nurse or mediwizard.

"I didn't think that just walking across the room would be so tiring," Aric said sheepishly.

"You nearly died yesterday, Aric," Takeshi told him, trembling a little at the thought. "The Sanguis Veneno spell is especially deadly, because it moves the poison through the body so quickly that it's difficult to get the patient to a Healer in time. It will take some time for your body to repair the damage inflicted by the poison."

"So how long before I can go to the bathroom alone?" Aric grumbled. 

"You'll probably feel very weak for the next couple of days, although it's difficult to say exactly, since I'm not sure how much your lycanthropic healing powers will speed up your recovery. But the Healers recommend bed rest for the next few days."

Aric looked a bit sulky, and Lukas told him sharply, "It's better than being dead, Mr. Dietrich!"

Takeshi smiled. "Why don't you go back to Hogwarts, Lukas? If he's well enough to complain, it means that he's recovering."

"I promised to stay with him," Lukas objected.

Takeshi noticed that the werewolf was still wearing the same robes that he'd had on yesterday, and that they were rumpled from being slept in. "At least go home, take a shower, change your clothes, and have something to eat. I can stay with Aric for now."

"Go on," Aric told him, looking a bit guilty now. "I'll be fine. You should at least get some breakfast."

"I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, then," Lukas said with a grin, and both Aric and Takeshi blushed. "And the term 'lovebird' is quite apt in your case, Takeshi. Why didn't you ever tell us that you were a non-human, too? Or part-human, anyway." He cuffed Takeshi lightly on the ear, the way he often cuffed his pack members, although much more gently than he would have struck his werewolves. "Surely you knew that we, of all people, would not have scorned you for having 'impure' blood."

"I'm sorry," Takeshi said apologetically. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you. But the crane folk are very secretive, and we aren't supposed to reveal our identities to people outside the Japanese wizarding community. And even in Japan, the pureblooded cranes usually keep to themselves, and don't mingle much with the other races. A few human men won crane wives with their bravery and compassion, but other unscrupulous men sometimes tried to take them by force--our women were prized for their beauty and their magical talent. This gave rise to other legends, of men who tried to force celestial maidens to become their brides by stealing their feather cloaks, without which they could not return to the heavens."

"Like the legends about the selkies, who could not return to the ocean when their sealskins were stolen," Lukas said.

"Yes, although the cloak is a device invented by some storyteller," Takeshi replied. "We don't need cloaks to transform. But a powerful enough sorcerer could bind and enslave a crane woman or man with a spell similar to an Imperius Curse. The crane folk are not fierce warriors like the tengu, and are not especially strong in the combative magics. So over the centuries, they became rather secretive and insular."

"But what about Chizuru?" Lukas asked. "Why did they let their princess travel so far from her home and teach at Hogwarts last year?"

Takeshi smiled. "Because her father, the ruler of the crane people, dotes on his daughter and can deny her nothing. And don't let Chizuru's sweet smile and gentle manner fool you; she can be quite stubborn when it comes to getting her way."

"Will you get in trouble for revealing your secret?" Aric asked anxiously.

"It's all right," Takeshi assured him. "You are my mate now...or you will be, I hope." Takeshi suddenly found himself feeling a little shy and uncertain. He knew that Aric loved him, but they had never made any formal pledges to each other.

But Aric smiled at him, blushing. "Of course," he said. "If you'll have me."

"Then that means you are part of my family now," Takeshi told him, feeling a sense of relief and joy. "Which means that you are not an outsider. And you are also part of Lukas's pack, so they are my family now as well. And Theodore is your cousin, so Remus and Professor Snape are now family to you through him. Which just leaves Professor Dumbledore, but I'm sure that he can keep a secret."

Lukas chuckled. "You're as sly and clever as a Slytherin, Takeshi. Well, I guess I will go back to the school for a little while, then, if you'll be all right, Aric. A shower would be nice."

Lukas left, and Aric said ruefully, "I wouldn't mind a shower, either. I feel pretty grubby. But I don't think I could stand up long enough to take one, and I'd probably pass out and drown in a bathtub."

"Well, I can help you with that, at least," Takeshi said cheerfully. He left the room briefly and returned with soap, towels, clean hospital robes, and a large basin of warm water.

"Wh...what are you doing?" Aric stuttered. 

"I'm going to give you a bath, of course," Takeshi replied. "Unless you'd prefer to have one of the nurses do it." Aric's face turned bright red, and Takeshi said teasingly, "No, on second thought, that won't do. I'm not letting you get a bath from a pretty young nurse."

"It doesn't matter," Aric teased back. "You're prettier than any of the nurses."

And then Takeshi was the one blushing. "You can be charming when you wish, I see. I'm not sure that 'pretty' is the word I would use to describe myself, but I'll take it as a compliment."

*** 

"Would you prefer 'handsome,' 'good-looking,' or 'gorgeous,' then?" Aric joked in an attempt to cover up his nervousness as Takeshi pulled a privacy screen around the bed and helped him undress. He found himself blushing like a virgin schoolgirl, and Takeshi said in an amused voice, "Don't worry, Aric. I doubt that you have anything I haven't seen before."

Which of course made him turn even redder. Aric told himself that he was being silly. He had never worried about being naked in front of the other guys in the Durmstrang Quidditch locker rooms. But Takeshi wasn't just one of the guys; he was Aric's lover-to-be. His very beautiful and very clothed lover-to-be. Being naked while Takeshi was fully clothed made him feel vulnerable and embarrassed. Come to think of it, he had never seen Takeshi in anything other than his lime-green St. Mungo's uniform. He wondered what Takeshi would look like in casual robes. He wondered what Takeshi would look like wearing nothing at all...

Aric shook his head slightly; no, he definitely should not be thinking about such things, especially now! "Relax, Aric," Takeshi said in a much kinder and gentler voice, as if sensing his discomfort. So Aric lay back and tried to relax as Takeshi ran a warm, damp washcloth over his body, wiping away dirt and sweat and flecks of dried blood. It felt good.

It felt a little too good, actually. The gentle touch of Takeshi's hands on his body caused a certain portion of his anatomy to spring to attention, and it was impossible to hide his arousal in his current state of undress. He felt his face grow hot as Takeshi raised his eyebrows and smiled.

"Well, it's a pity that we can't do something about this," the mediwizard said in a low, sultry voice that Aric had never heard him use before. "But the Healers did say that you shouldn't be doing anything strenuous right now. So consider this a promise of things to come." 

Takeshi leaned forward and kissed Aric on the mouth, a soft, lingering kiss at first, that slowly deepened as Aric parted his lips to let Takeshi's tongue slide into his mouth. He let out a muffled groan as all the blood in his body seemed to rush straight to his groin. He wanted to push Takeshi down on the bed and take him right then and there, but his little jaunt to the bathroom had left him feeling too weak to do anything but lie there and accept the kiss. 

And then Takeshi's glasses slid down his nose and struck Aric in the face--which didn't really hurt, but it startled him and broke the mood.

"Oops, sorry," Takeshi said with a grin, straightening up and pushing his glasses back into place.

"Why don't you fix your glasses or get a pair that fits?" Aric asked, feeling a bit disgruntled about the interruption.

"Oh, actually they do fit, or at least I can charm them to stay in place," Takeshi said casually. He touched the bridge of his wire-rimmed glasses, chanted a brief incantation, and they settled on his nose more securely. "But it seems to disarm my patients, make them laugh a little, and set them at ease. Many people find hospitals slightly intimidating, and most of my patients are already frightened since this is the Creature-Induced Injuries ward, which means that everyone here has been the victim of some sort of attack."

"Huh," Aric said, feeling more than a little surprised. So that absent-minded scholar bit was all an act. Takeshi was a bit more devious than he had realized. "Do you even need to wear glasses at all, or are the lenses just plain glass?"

"I really am a bit farsighted," Takeshi said with a smile. "I need them to read and see things up close, although I can see quite well from a distance."

It occurred to Aric that the exotic vision he'd seen yesterday contrasted sharply with the image of the mild-mannered mediwizard standing before him. "The glasses and the braid, they're a disguise, aren't they?" Aric asked thoughtfully. "They help make you look normal. Because without the glasses, with your hair unbound, you're so beautiful that people might suspect that you're not fully human."

Takeshi blushed, his cheeks turning a very becoming shade of pink, and he laughed, sounding embarrassed but also flattered at the same time. "It's very kind of you to say that, Aric, but you're not exactly an impartial observer. The ones we love always look beautiful to us. I wear glasses because I need them to see and I'm too squeamish to get contact lenses, and I wear my hair in a braid because otherwise it would get in my way when I work, and I'm too vain to cut it."

"You _are_ beautiful," Aric insisted. "And don't cut your hair; I like it long."

"Then let me repay your compliment with another kiss," Takeshi said playfully, and bent down to kiss Aric again. This time his glasses stayed where they were supposed to.

When they came up for air, Aric said, red-faced and a little breathless, "You know, this isn't helping that--" He gestured at his crotch. "--to go away."

Takeshi laughed again. "Here, let me help you cool down." He laid his hands on Aric's chest, whispered a charm, and that flushed, overheated feeling ebbed and gave way to a sense of coolness that slowly spread through Aric's body, like a cool breeze easing the heat of a hot summer day. His breathing and heart rate slowed, rendering him calmer. He also felt his erection rapidly wilting, and he wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or relieved.

"Well, you're certainly capable of fending off unwanted advances," Aric joked a little nervously, also recalling the way Takeshi had hurled him across the room at the clinic.

"Oh, don't worry," Takeshi said with a grin. "Your advances will be most welcome, once the Healers give you a clean bill of health. And once we're in someplace more private than a hospital room." He asked almost shyly, "You'll move in with me once you graduate, won't you?"

"Of course," Aric said happily, and suddenly his family's rejection didn't hurt quite so much. "It was worth being turned if it means that I'm able to be with you, even though that's not why I did it. I'm not the heir anymore, and I doubt that the Tierneys would want a werewolf for a son-in-law, anyway."

"That reminds me, I have some news to share with you," Takeshi said. And as he finished bathing Aric, he explained how Miranda had eloped with Pye.

"Well, good for them!" Aric laughed. 

"So you don't mind?" Takeshi asked, looking relieved.

"Of course not," Aric said. "I never wanted to marry her in the first place, so your friend Pye is welcome to her." He grinned. "Maybe we can all double-date sometime." Then his smile faded. "Although I guess my family is probably disappointed about losing the alliance." Takeshi suddenly frowned, looking troubled. "But I don't regret what I did," Aric hastily assured him.

"It's not that," Takeshi said, still frowning.

"What is it, then?" Aric asked. The mediwizard hesitated, remaining silent as he helped Aric slip into a clean robe. "'Keshi," Aric said, beginning to grow worried, "what's wrong?"

"Perhaps I shouldn't say anything," Takeshi said reluctantly. "Since it doesn't really matter now. But I can see that it will worry you if I don't tell you. I believe that your family lied to you about your grandfather's illness, Aric. I believe that they used it as an excuse to convince you to sign the betrothal contract."

"Grandfather didn't really have a stroke?" Aric asked, feeling stunned.

"He did have a stroke," Takeshi replied. "St. Mungo's wouldn't participate in a hoax like that. Your grandfather was seriously ill when he arrived at the hospital, but from what I can gather, the Healers were able to stabilize him relatively quickly. Which means that your family probably knew that he wasn't dying when they asked you to sign the contract."

"They tricked me?" Aric whispered. "They lied to me?"

"I believe so," Takeshi replied in a gentle voice. "Although you would have to check with your grandfather's Healers to be absolutely certain."

"It sounds like something they'd do," Aric said with a bitter smile. "Grandfather threatened to disown me if I refused to go through with the marriage. I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to tell what he'd consider a harmless white lie in order to convince me to do my duty. All for the good of the family, of course."

"I'm sorry, Aric," Takeshi said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Aric demanded.

The mediwizard gave him an apologetic and slightly guilty look. "I was afraid it would seem like I was trying to turn you against your family. I was afraid that you wouldn't believe me. And even if you did believe me, I knew you would be hurt by it. But my brother convinced me that it wasn't right to keep the truth from you, so I was going to stop by the school and talk to you after the game, but, well...obviously with everything that happened, I never got the chance."

"You've never lied to me, 'Keshi," Aric said, reaching out to clasp the mediwizard's hand in his own. "You may not have told me the entire truth about a few things," he added dryly, and Takeshi smiled at him sheepishly. "But you've never lied to me. I would have believed you. It's all too easy for me to believe that my family could have lied to me."

"I'm sorry," Takeshi repeated, and Aric could see the pain and compassion in his eyes. He could have used that information to his own advantage, to try to turn Aric against his family. That was what a good Slytherin would have done. But he hadn't, because he had wanted to spare Aric pain, because Aric's feelings had mattered more to him than his own.

"I'm not," Aric said firmly. "My family wouldn't have hesitated to slander you, if the situation had been reversed. I was a fool, Takeshi. You're the only one who's ever loved me without expecting anything in return. Well, except for my Uncle Rafe. I should have chosen you. I shouldn't have waited until a werewolf bite rendered me worthless as heir."

"It doesn't matter," Takeshi whispered, tears spilling from his eyes, but he was smiling at Aric joyfully. "All that matters is that we're together now." And he leaned down and kissed Aric again. This time the kiss was more tender and sweet than arousing, but it still left Aric feeling a little dizzy. Of course, that could just be an aftereffect of the poison, but Aric didn't really think so.

Then the door opened, and Lupin called out, "Hello? Is it all right for us to come in?"

Takeshi hastily straightened up and pushed back the privacy screen. "Of course, Remus," he said, blushing just a little. "Aric's doing well, and I'm sure he'd love to have some visitors."

"And are you taking good care of Aric, Takeshi?" Lupin asked, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Of course, Remus," Takeshi repeated, his blush deepening. "Well, I'd better get back to work. And I'll bring you some breakfast, Aric. You need to eat to keep up your strength." He quickly gathered up the basin, towels, and dirty clothes, and exited the room.

Lupin entered the room, along with Snape, Theo, and Dylan. Lupin and Snape were carrying stacks of books, and Theo and Dylan had their arms full with boxes and baskets and bags of candy.

"What is all that?" Aric asked.

"Get-well cards and gifts," Theo announced with a smile, as he and Dylan deposited them on the nightstand next to Aric's bed. "You're a hero in Slytherin now, you know--in the whole school, actually, since you saved Master Diggory."

"He seems to be quite a popular teacher," Dylan added. "Considering that most of the students leave his classes feeling bruised and battered."

"I thought you might be bored," Lupin said cheerfully. "So I brought you some books to read." He placed a stack of books on the nightstand; they appeared to be novels by Ariel Zoltaire, the romance author who was so popular with the Slytherin girls. Aric shook his head slightly and smiled; somehow it didn't really surprise him that Lupin read romance novels. That wasn't really Aric's cup of tea, but he thanked the werewolf politely. As Lupin set the books down, he accidentally dislodged a white feather, which floated down to the floor.

"Sorry, what's this?" Lupin asked.

"Oh, that's mine," Aric said hastily, trying not to blush. It was Takeshi's feather, which Aric had set on the nightstand for safekeeping after he woke up. "It's a...uh...quill pen."

The end of the quill had not been trimmed, and was unstained by ink, but Lupin just smiled knowingly and did not contradict him. "I'll put this away in the drawer, then, so that you won't lose it."

"Thanks," Aric mumbled, losing the fight against blushing.

"And here, Dietrich," Snape said briskly, handing him two fat, heavy textbooks. "School is almost over, but there's no need to let your mind rot while your body is recovering. These are texts on healing herbs and potions, which you should be studying if you still intend to apply for a job at St. Mungo's."

"Thank you, Professor," Aric said, feeling surprised to get a gift from Snape, even if they were only textbooks. "But will St. Mungo's be willing to hire a werewolf?"

"It seems that Arthur Weasley will retain his position as Minister of Magic, after all," Snape said. "Which means that the equal rights bill is still in effect. Not all of the department heads are as open-minded, but it seems that the head of this ward, Hippocrates Smethwyck, is willing to take you on. I spoke to him on the way in, and he seems to think that werewolves might feel more comfortable being treated by one of their own, so he seems to regard your condition as an advantage rather than a liability. Although it does mean that you won't be able to work during the full moon, but he says that he can schedule your days off around it."

Aric was too stunned to reply with anything more than, "Oh." It seemed that his dreams had come true, in a roundabout way: he would become a mediwizard as he had wanted, and he would be with Takeshi. 

This wasn't exactly the way he had planned it, but he wasn't really unhappy. The loss of his family still hurt, but he had known all along that he would have to choose between them and Takeshi. And it had been they who had abandoned him, not the other way around, which made him feel less guilty about it. Although perhaps his grandfather thought that Aric had abandoned his duty to his family by allowing himself to be turned--or by putting himself in a position where it was necessary to be turned. But while Aric had been willing to sacrifice a great deal for his family, including his own happiness and a possible future with Takeshi, he could not have let someone that he cared about die, not even for the sake of his family's honor.

"Well then," Snape said curtly, "I need to consult with the head of the Spell Damage ward, and deliver a potion to him."

"You go on ahead, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully. "We'll visit with Aric for a little while."

Snape nodded and left the room, looking a trifle embarrassed. Maybe he was worried that he was ruining his reputation by showing even a little concern about one of his students. Meanwhile, Aric had many questions for Lupin, who patiently answered them and explained the events leading up to yesterday's attack, and what had happened afterwards.

Aric sighed with relief when he learned that Master Diggory would not be punished for turning him. "I'm glad," he said. "Because it would have been my fault if anything happened to him."

"It would have been Williamson's and Amos's fault," Lupin said firmly. "But the point is moot now, anyway."

"You gave me and Blaise such a hard time," Theo told him. "But you and Kimura were an item all along, you sly dog!" But he was grinning, and didn't look angry.

"Sly wolf," Dylan laughed.

"We weren't really an item," Aric protested, feeling his face grow hot. "I mean, we were only friends...I didn't think of him that way...not until my parents decided to marry me off to Miranda, but by then it was too late..."

"They're just teasing you, Aric," Lupin chuckled.

"But I am sorry that I gave you a hard time," Aric said, feeling ashamed of himself as he remembered how he had taunted Theo in the past, and not just about Blaise. And yet his cousin had still stood by him and pleaded for his life.

"It's okay," Theo said, smiling. "I forgive you. I'm just glad that you're all right."

"You were a real git all year," Dylan said. "But since you saved Master Diggory, I'll forgive you, too." He gestured at the pile of gifts on the nightstand. "And so does everyone else in Slytherin. There's even a few gifts from the other Houses. Hermione and Allegra sent you get-well cards, and Tristan sent you a box of Chocolate Frogs. And he wants to thank you and apologize to you in person when you get back. Seeing his uncle nearly kill his cousin really shook him up. He's a brat, but he does love Master Diggory."

"It's shook up all the Hufflepuffs, to learn that one of their own nearly became a murderer," Theo said, looking more serious now. "Since they place so much value on loyalty. And Amos Diggory was trying to kill his own nephew, which makes it even worse in their eyes."

"Loyalty isn't always a virtue," Dylan said softly. "Not if you give your loyalty to the wrong person, the way my father gave his loyalty to the Dark Lord."

"Sometimes a single trait can be both a strength and a weakness at the same time," Lupin said gently.   
 Aric wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he was relieved when he saw the door open, thinking that it was Takeshi returning with his breakfast. But instead, it turned out to be his sister Erika, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.

She smiled, but looked ill-at-ease. "I stopped by last night, but you were sleeping," she said to Aric, then nodded at Theo. "Hello, Theodore."

"Hello, Erika," Theo replied politely. "This is Professor Lupin, my foster father. And Dylan Rosier, my foster brother."

"How nice to meet you, Erika," Lupin said brightly. "Dylan, Theo, why don't we go find a vase for those lovely flowers?"

Aric knew that Lupin was trying to give them some privacy, and he appreciated the gesture, but he felt a little nervous about being left alone with his sister, not knowing what her reaction to his lycanthropy would be. "We'll be back soon," Lupin reassured him with a kind smile, as if sensing his misgivings, and the three of them left.

Aric and Erika just stared at each other for a minute or two, until Aric said, "Well, you'll be the heir now," just to break the silence. "I guess you've got what you always wanted."

"I won't lie," Erika said quietly. "I did want the heirship. But not this way. I'm sorry, Aric."

"It's okay," Aric said, feeling a little ashamed of himself. He hadn't meant for those words to sound so accusing. "It's not your fault. And to be honest, I'm kind of relieved. I didn't really want to be heir, anyway."

"Since when?" Erika asked, looking surprised. "I know you didn't want to marry Miranda, but surely she's not so repulsive that you'd willingly become a werewolf and give up the heirship just to avoid marrying her." 

"It's nothing personal against Miranda," Aric said, nervously glancing away from his sister. He was tempted not to tell her, but she was going to find out the truth sooner or later, anyway. Gossip always traveled fast in the wizarding world. Even if he and Takeshi were discreet, eventually people were going to figure out that they were more than roommates. He was just glad that his conversation with his parents and grandparents had not gotten this far.

"It's just that I'm in love with someone else," Aric finally said. "Otherwise I'd have agreed to the betrothal sooner, even if the idea of marrying a total stranger isn't exactly appealing."

"Really?" Erika exclaimed, looking shocked and then curious. "Who is it? Not that Deveraux girl, surely."

"Yvonne?" Aric said, shuddering with feigned horror. "I'd never have another moment of silence for the rest of my life if I married her! I swear that girl never stops talking."

Erika laughed, then smiled at him shrewdly. "Hmm, then it must be someone completely unsuitable. If your secret girlfriend had been a pureblood of high rank, then Grandfather would at least have considered the idea."

"He'd never have considered the idea, because it's not a girl that I'm in love with,"Aric said, flushing. "It's a guy."

"What?!" Erika cried, her eyebrows shooting up into her forehead. "Well, that's rather unexpected!" But although she sounded shocked, she didn't seem disgusted. "So who is he? Do I know him?"

"I don't think so," Aric said, feeling relieved although he was still blushing. "But maybe you might have passed by him on your way in? His name is Takeshi Kimura; he works as a mediwizard in this ward."

"The one with the glasses and the long braid?" Erika asked. "He was here when I came to see you yesterday. I thought he seemed to be a little more concerned about you than a mediwizard normally would be about a patient." She smiled slyly. "He's a pretty boy, although I didn't realize that he was your type." She laughed as Aric blushed harder. "So that was why you wanted to become a mediwizard!"

"It's not just because of Takeshi!" Aric protested. "I wanted to become a mediwizard before I...before we...that is..."

"I was just teasing, little brother," Erika said, bending down to kiss his cheek. "Does he make you happy?" Aric nodded, his face still beet-red. "Then I'm glad for you," Erika said. "I'm glad that you have something to compensate for what you're losing. Although I never thought that you were the type to give up everything for love." Then she saw Lupin's books on the nightstand and added, "Never thought you were the type to read those kinds of books, either, but that might explain a few things..."

"They're not my books!" Aric said indignantly. "Professor Lupin brought them!"

"Did I hear my name being taken in vain?" Lupin asked cheerfully, as he entered the room carrying a vase and a pitcher of water. 

"Thank you, Professor," Erika said, arranging the flowers in the vase. "I'll come visit you again as soon as I can, Aric, after I take care of a few business matters."

"Back in Germany?" Aric asked. "I guess you must have been called away from work pretty suddenly."

"I need to finish up the project I'm currently working on and see if I can arrange a transfer to the London branch of Gringotts," Erika said. "Because..." 

Her voice trailed off, and Aric finished, "Because Grandfather wants the new heir to be closer to home. I understand. I don't hold it against you, and I don't envy you. You know that Grandfather will probably try to arrange a marriage for you soon."

"I don't mind," Erika said. "I don't have my heart set on anyone in particular, and I'll do what is necessary to ensure the succession. And I don't intend to just marry the first man that Grandfather picks out. I am willing to make an arranged marriage alliance, but my husband must be someone that I can respect. He must be worthy of fathering the future Dietrich heirs, after all."

Aric smiled. His grandfather would probably find it much harder to run roughshod over Erika. As much as he hated to admit it, his sister was much tougher than he was; she always had been, even as a child. He felt a little sorry for her, though, that she probably wouldn't love her husband the way that he loved Takeshi. But Erika had never been much of a romantic, unlike the Slytherin girls who sighed over Ariel Zoltaire's novels. Her deepest desire had never been any man or boy, but the heirship of the Dietrich family, and she was finally getting her wish. He hoped that she would be happy. And hopefully, her husband would turn out to be a nice guy, someone that she could at least like. But he had no doubt that Erika would be able to keep him in line, whoever her future husband turned out to be.

"And don't feel guilty about breaking the marriage alliance," Erika added. "Grandfather lied to you when he said that he was dying."

"I know," Aric replied. "Takeshi told me." He smiled ruefully. "I guess I was the only one too stupid to figure it out. But as it happens, Miranda broke the alliance as well. She ran off and eloped with Takeshi's coworker when she heard that I'd been turned." Erika looked startled, and Aric said, "It's kind of a long story. I'll tell you about it later."

"I look forward to hearing it," Erika said. "This is starting to sound like one of Zoltaire's novels." As she left, Aric heard her whisper to Theo, "Please look after him, Theodore," although she clearly hadn't intended for him to overhear that. Theo nodded solemnly in response.

Snape returned shortly after Erika left, and said that they should be getting back to Hogwarts. "We should let you get some rest, but we'll come visit you again in the afternoon," Lupin promised. "Is there anything you'd like us to bring you?"

"Yes, actually there is," Aric said. "If you wouldn't mind getting me something from my room, Theo?"

"Sure," Theo said with a grin. "So long as you don't have any nasty wards set up to trap me."

Actually, Aric did have a few protective wards set up to guard his belongings, so he explained to Theo how to disarm them, and what he wanted Theo to bring. His cousin raised his eyebrows a little, but said, "All right, I'll bring it by when we come back," without asking for an explanation.

Snape lingered behind as the others left the room, and Aric gave the Potions Master a puzzled look as he cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. "It seems that you will not be returning to the Dietrich estate when school ends," Snape said stiffly, "and, well...there's plenty of room at Snape Manor. Although I'm sure Diggory would let you stay at the werewolves' townhouse since you're part of his pack now, but I just thought that the Manor might be...ah...a somewhat less traumatic transition..."

"Did Theo ask you to do this?" Aric asked, feeling a little dazed by the unexpected offer. 

Snape coughed again, looking embarrassed. "Not exactly, but I know that he was worried about you. And Lupin's always picking up strays; I suppose one more hardly matters. It seems that we're adopting a dog, as a matter of fact. At least you're already housebroken."

Aric stared at Snape in amazement. Had the Potions Master just made a joke? "Thank you, sir. But...um..." Aric blushed. "I'll be moving in with Takeshi after I graduate."

"Oh, of course," Snape said, looking relieved.

"But feel free to stop by and visit anytime!" Lupin called out, poking his head through the doorway.

"I told you to wait outside!" Snape snapped, but Lupin just grinned at him. In a very formal and dignified manner, Snape said, "You may of course visit your cousin at the Manor, if you wish." Then he turned and stalked out of the room, his black robes swirling around him. Lupin winked at Aric and waved goodbye before following Snape.

Takeshi returned as Snape and Lupin left, bearing a large, steaming bowl of soup, and the savory aroma caused Aric's stomach to rumble. "Sorry," Takeshi said apologetically. "I know you haven't had anything to eat since yesterday morning, but I saw your sister come in, and I thought you might want some time alone with her."

"That's fine," Aric said. "I wasn't hungry up until now, but suddenly I'm starving." His hand trembled slightly when he tried to lift the spoon, so Takeshi took it and began feeding him spoonfuls of soup. "I'm not an invalid," Aric complained, but secretly he enjoyed having the mediwizard fuss over him, although he felt a little embarrassed as well.

"Actually, you are an invalid right now," Takeshi said sternly. "So if you want to regain your strength, you have to eat."

"Yes, sir," Aric said, with an exaggerated air of meekness. The soup did taste very good; it was thick and rich and meaty. But it wasn't normal breakfast fare, which puzzled Aric slightly.

"The newly-awakened wolf craves meat," Takeshi explained. "And a meat-rich diet will also help you replenish the blood that you lost. But your body is still recovering from the poisoning, and I don't think that your stomach could handle anything stronger than soup right now. If you can keep down your breakfast and lunch, we can try some solid food at dinner."

"I really am an invalid," Aric sighed, swallowing another spoonful of soup. He hadn't been craving anything until Takeshi mentioned it, but now his stomach rumbled again at the thought of a nice, juicy steak.

"Count your blessings," Takeshi said. "There's a patient in the next ward who can't eat anything but rice gruel."

"Soup is just fine," Aric said hastily.

Takeshi smiled. "I'll fix you a home-cooked meal after we move in together," he promised. 

"I'll hold you to that," Aric said. "Er...you can cook, can't you?"

"Of course I can, silly," Takeshi said. "I practically grew up in the kitchen of the Sakura."

"That's good," Aric said. "Because I can't. So otherwise we'd have to eat out every night or starve."

"It's not that hard," Takeshi laughed. "If you can brew a potion in Snape's Advanced class, you're certainly capable of following a recipe."

By the time Aric finished the soup, he felt full and sleepy and content. "Get some rest, love," Takeshi whispered, kissing him on the forehead. "I'll come see you again after I check on my other patients."

"Fine," Aric yawned. "So long as you don't kiss any of them."

Takeshi laughed softly and kissed Aric again, this time on the mouth. "No, you're the only one who gets that kind of specialized care, my wolf."

"Good," Aric said smugly, and closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

*** 

Aric woke in time for lunch, which was more soup. He felt a little stronger, and was able to feed himself this time, but Takeshi sat beside his bed and watched him as he ate ravenously. "You seem to be feeling better," the mediwizard observed.

"I'm starving," Aric said. "Even though I haven't been doing anything but lie in bed all day."

"Your body is working hard to heal itself," Takeshi explained. "That uses up energy, which in turn requires nourishment."

Soon Aric pushed aside the empty bowl and leaned back in bed with a sigh of satisfaction. "Can you stay with me awhile?" he asked, wondering if he should have eaten slower, if only to keep the mediwizard by his side.

"Of course," Takeshi replied with a smile. "All my other duties have been taken care of for the moment, barring any sudden emergencies."

"So tell me about yourself," Aric said. "You're part crane? Is that how you were able to use wandless magic that night at the clinic, when you sent me flying into the wall?"

"Sorry," Takeshi said with a sheepish smile. "I got a little carried away."

"It's okay, I deserved it," Aric assured him. "But I've never seen anyone cast a spell like that without a wand before."

"It's partly my crane blood," Takeshi said. "The crane, kitsune, tengu, and tanuki people have intrinsic magical powers which do not require the use of a wand."

"But Master Satoshi uses a wand," Aric pointed out.

"It's all for show," Takeshi said with an amused smile. "The tanuki are great mimics; this is all kind of an elaborate game to him. Satoshi is trying to fit in, so he wears Western clothing, speaks with a British accent, and carries a wand, but he doesn't really need it. He can work his magic without it."

"Oh," Aric said. "I guess I should have realized that, after the research we did on Japanese shapeshifters for Interspecies Relations."

"And even human wizards do not always require a wand," Takeshi said. "Strange things often happen around young wizard children, an unconscious manifestation of their magic. Which is why the parents of Muggle-born wizards are not really surprised when the letter from Hogwarts arrives, because they already know that their children are not normal humans. Human wizards also have some intrinsic magic, Aric, although it's weaker than that of the shapeshifters. The wand merely acts as focus to channel and intensify their power. And the focus object doesn't really have to be a wand; that's merely the traditional device used by Western wizards. In the East, the focus object might be a staff; a string of rosary beads; a fuda, or spell scroll; or even something intangible, like a chant."

"You mean, like an incantation?"

Takeshi nodded. "My powers do not just come from my mother's side of the family. My father comes from a long line of Onmyouji--a word that might translate in English as shaman, soothsayer, or sorcerer. It was the duty of the Onmyouji to protect and serve the Emperor and the realm in ancient Japan. It's a bit difficult to explain to someone not familiar with the concept, but in short, they used the power of Yin and Yang, and the power of the five elements--wood, fire, metal, water, and earth--to predict the future and and fight evil spirits. An Onmyouji channels his power through chants and incantations, like the one I used to repel you in the clinic. He can also focus his power through a physical object, and make a spell come to life, like so."

He pulled a scissors and a piece of paper out of his pocket, and cut out a crude paper doll--a vague outline of head, arms, and a body which flared out at the bottom, giving the impression of a dress or skirt. Then, holding his index and middle fingers together, he brushed them across the doll as he whispered an incantation. Suddenly the doll shimmered and expanded, and standing before them was a beautiful Japanese girl clad in long, flowing robes of brightly-colored silk. 

"Wow," Aric gasped in awe.

Takeshi frowned as the doll-girl smiled at Aric coyly. He made a brief gesture with his hand, and the girl vanished as the paper doll fluttered down to the floor. "Well, in any case, you can see how that works. That's a type of advanced illusion. I could also inscribe a protective charm onto a scroll and hang it up on the wall to shield the room from magical attacks."

"Like a warding spell," Aric said.

Takeshi nodded. "Or I could also write an attack spell or a binding spell on a piece of paper, and hurl it at an opponent during a fight."

"Are you an Onmyouji, then?" Aric asked. 

"Not really," Takeshi replied. "Although my father has trained me in some of the arts of Onmyoudo, the type of magic that the Onmyouji practice. I have been trained in a mixture of Western, Eastern, and non-human magic."

Aric suddenly remembered something Takeshi had mentioned yesterday about dreaming that he was a wolf. "You said that the Onmyouji are soothsayers, and you said that I appeared to you as a wolf in your dreams. Do you have the Sight? Is all that nonsense Professor Trelawney talks about in class really true?"

"I've never shown any sign of having the Sight before," Takeshi said with a smile. "And my father does not have much talent for Divination, although he is quite skilled at casting protective charms. But some of his ancestors were soothsayers, and one of my mother's ancestors also had the Sight, so it's possible that I might have a very weak and latent form of that Gift. Occasionally people in my family who do not appear to have the Sight can have a vision of a person or event that is of great importance to them." He said tenderly, "As I did of you, my wolf. Although, as is often the case with visions, I didn't understand what it meant at the time. My people--that is, my mother's people, the crane folk--mate for life. I knew that the wolf I saw in my dreams was my soulmate, but I didn't realize at first that it was you. And then once I knew it was you, I didn't understand why you were a wolf. But now it all makes sense."

"Then...that means that I was destined to become a werewolf?" Aric asked, stunned and shaken by that revelation. "You saw in advance what would happen, even if you didn't understand what it meant at the time."

Takeshi shook his head. "No, Divination only shows us the possibilities that are open to us. It was not necessarily your destiny to become a wolf, but perhaps it was your destiny to be faced with the choice of whether or not to become a werewolf. There are always choices, Aric, even if the alternative is so dreadful that it doesn't seem like a choice. You had to choose between life as a werewolf or death, and you chose life, for which I will be eternally grateful." 

His voice trembled slightly, and he leaned down and kissed Aric with a tenderness and reverence that left him breathless. When Takeshi pulled back and Aric was able to see his eyes, he saw a look of joy and love and awe in them, as if the sight of Aric was some kind of miracle to him. While Aric found it miraculous that he was able to evoke such a response from someone as incredible as Takeshi. He was descended from a creature of myth, with beauty and power that were more than human, and aside from that, he was intelligent, kind, and generous. Surely he could have his pick of lovers, male or female. While Aric was suddenly painfully aware that he had, up until now, been nothing more than just another small-minded, spoiled pureblood heir. There was no real reason why Takeshi should love him, and yet he did.

And then the rest of what Takeshi had said sunk in. "Your people mate for life?"

"Yes," Takeshi replied softly. "Which explains my reaction to you at the clinic," he added, a faint blush staining his cheeks. "Cranes look graceful and elegant, but they are still animals, and an animal's instincts are always strong. Particularly the mating instinct." His blush grew rosier. "The human part of me was unwilling to share you with another consort, but the crane part of me felt a primal urge to...um...well...be joined with its mate."

By now, Aric was blushing, too. "I see. That was why you had to throw me across the room, before...er...the crane part of you overwhelmed the human part. Not to mention that I was being a real git. You told me 'no' and I didn't listen. And I had no right to expect you to sleep with me when I had already agreed to the betrothal. I was too drunk to be thinking clearly. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you, my wolf," Takeshi said, kissing him gently. 

"But if your people mate for life...what would have happened to you if I had married Miranda?" Aric asked, disturbed by the thought and not sure that he really wanted to know the answer. From the way Takeshi was hesitating, it was probably nothing good. He was tempted to let the matter drop, but he needed to know how badly he had almost hurt his friend...no, his mate. "Please tell me," he insisted.

"I told you that the mages in my homeland had often made arranged marriages in the past, for the sake of political alliances," Takeshi replied, his expression grave. "But that was not true of the crane people. If they had already formed a bond with a soulmate, whether or not that bond was formalized by marriage, and were forced to wed another, either by their clan for political reasons, or by a human sorcerer who had kidnapped one of our maidens, they would usually pine away and die of grief. Or commit suicide--often a double suicide with their true love. A few would go mad and kill their unwanted spouses and then themselves." 

Aric stared at him with a look of horror, and Takeshi said, "But don't worry, Aric. I would not have killed myself or died of grief. I am stronger than that, and besides, it would be selfish, because I would be hurting the people who love me--my family and friends, and of course, you." He smiled sadly. "If we had parted, I would have gone on with my life, and eventually I would probably have taken other lovers. But I would never have been able to completely give my heart to someone else, because part of it would always have remained with you."

"Wh-why didn't you tell me this?" Aric whispered.

"Because I love you, Aric," Takeshi said tenderly. "And I only wanted you to be with me if that was what you truly wanted, not out of guilt or a sense of obligation."

If Aric had any lingering doubts about whether he'd made the right choice, that completely banished them. As weak as he was, he wrapped his arms around Takeshi and held him tightly. "I love you, Takeshi," he whispered fiercely. "I'll never regret the choice that I've made." They kissed, and Aric felt his body once again responding to the presence of his mate, and he was wondering if he was strong enough to actually do something about it this time, when the door swung open and Master Diggory walked in.

"Oops, am I interrupting something?" the werewolf asked with a sly grin.

"Oh no, of course not," Takeshi said, hastily disentangling himself from Aric's embrace. "Actually, I should be getting back to work. I'll check on you later, Aric." And the red-faced mediwizard grabbed Aric's empty soup bowl and fled the room.

"You have lousy timing," Aric said, glaring at his teacher.

"That's 'You have lousy timing, pack leader,'" Diggory corrected, looking highly amused. 

"Great," Aric said grumpily. "Now that I'm a werewolf, you get to boss me around not just while I'm in school, but for the rest of my life?"

"Unless another wolf comes along who is strong enough to defeat me," Diggory agreed cheerfully. "Which you definitely are not, at least not right now. And you're not strong enough to be doing anything with our fine-feathered friend right now, either." He laughed out loud as Aric's face turned scarlet. 

"You will find your new packmates annoying at times, I'm sure," Diggory continued. "I certainly do. They'll tease you and pry into your life, and you'll find that everyone in the pack always knows everyone else's business. It's almost impossible to keep a secret from them. But that's because we all love each other, with a bond stronger than blood. If any one of us is ever in trouble, the rest of the pack will come to his or her aid. You will never have to be alone again, Aric." He grinned. "Which may be a bit dismaying at times, but you're stuck with us." His expression grew a bit more serious, but he was still smiling, and Aric could see genuine warmth and affection in his yellow-green eyes. "We're your family now, Aric," he said quietly, laying a hand on Aric's unwounded shoulder.

"Thank you, Master Diggory," Aric said hoarsely, because he was suddenly choked up with emotion. He may have lost one family, but he had gained another. 

"You might as well call me 'Lukas' when we're not in school," Diggory said. "The rest of the pack does."

"Except for the kids," Aric reminded him, smiling as he remembered the werewolf children from the clinic. "'Uncle' Lukas."

Diggory--no, Lukas--laughed. "Well, you are my cub in a sense," he said, fondly ruffling Aric's hair. "Since I deliberately made you part of my pack." He paused and gave Aric a questioning look.

"I don't regret it," Aric said firmly. "Not for a second."

"Good," Lukas said, sounding relieved. He smiled at Aric, a bit wistfully. "I suppose that this is the closest I'll ever get to having cubs of my own. So you are welcome to live with me if you want. I still have to attend an official hearing, but Arthur tells me that it's almost certain that I'll be awarded the Diggory estate now that Amos is disgraced. So you can live at the mansion, or at the townhouse with the other wolves, or there's plenty of room in my quarters at Hogwarts."

"Thank you," Aric said, feeling touched by Lukas's words. He had gone from being cast out by his family to having a surfeit of people who wanted him to live with them! "But..."

Lukas smiled knowingly. "But you're going to move in with Takeshi. Well, that's fine; he's part of the pack, too. But just know that you'll always have a place in my home, wherever that might be."

"Thank you," Aric repeated, blinking back tears. He lay back in bed suddenly feeling very tired.

"I have other things to tell you," Lukas said. "About your lycanthropy, and what to expect during the full moon. But that can wait. Get some rest." 

Aric closed his eyes, too tired to protest. He felt Lukas draw the blanket up over him, felt the werewolf's hand--warm and slightly calloused--rest briefly on his cheek. And then he fell asleep, feeling secure and content.

*** 

Aric dozed off and on throughout the day. Lukas or Takeshi were always there when he woke, to help him to the bathroom or change his bandages and give him medicine, or just to talk and keep him company. He received a few more kisses from Takeshi, but unfortunately, he didn't have the strength to take things any further. He sighed regretfully to himself. Well, at least it gave him something to look forward to--and a great deal of incentive to recover quickly.

When he awoke late in the afternoon, there were four more flower arrangements in the room that had not been there before. One was from Selima Snape, another was from the Ames family, the third was from Takeshi's parents, and the fourth was from the Hogwarts staff. It consisted of flowers that had been picked from the school greenhouses, and the Headmaster had sent a small bag of lemon drops along with it.

"I wasn't expecting this," a bemused Aric told Lupin, who had just arrived with Theo and Dylan, to visit again as they had promised. "Maybe something from the school, since I'm a student and I was injured on the school grounds, but I figured that I'd be shunned by all the purebloods."

Lupin smiled and helped himself to a lemon drop. "Ah, but Lady Selima is very fond of Lukas, so of course she is grateful that you saved his life. She has already quite publicly supported him, so she will not be leery of associating with you just because you are a werewolf. Lady Selima does possess certain typical pureblood prejudices, to be sure, but she is a law unto herself, and she does as she pleases. If the rules don't suit her, she'll bend them to fit her needs. As for the Ames family, Gwendolyn also loves Lukas very much. I'm sure that losing him for a second time would have been devastating for her, so it's no surprise that she'd want to send you a small token of her gratitude. As for the Kimuras, well..." Lupin's eyes twinkled merrily. "You're important to their son, so of course you're important to them as well."

"They know about me?" Aric asked nervously. He'd been so worried about his family's reaction, that he had never stopped to consider how Takeshi's family might react to him taking a lover who was not only male, but also a werewolf. They were supporters of the Wolfsbane Potion Distribution Program, of course, but that didn't necessarily mean that they would approve of their son sleeping with a werewolf.

"I'm not sure how much Takeshi has told them," Lupin replied, looking unconcerned. "But clearly they know that you're someone that he cares about. And even if they don't know the entire truth, I'm sure they'll be finding out soon enough. Takeshi is very close to his family, and I'm sure that he'll be introducing you to them when you're feeling better."

Suddenly Aric was no longer in such a hurry to recover. "But what if they don't approve of me?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, don't worry," Lupin said reassuringly. "They're very kind people, and they seem quite open-minded. They love Takeshi, and I think they'll be fine with it, so long as Takeshi is happy." Lupin patted Aric on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Aric! As far as in-laws go, you have it pretty good. You should have seen Lady Selima's reaction the first time that Severus brought me to Snape Manor! She wasn't always fond of werewolves, you know."

Theo grinned, looking not vindictive, precisely, but he clearly didn't mind seeing Aric receive a little poetic justice. Aric couldn't really blame him, considering that he'd openly taunted Theo, and helped to spread word of Theo's relationship with Blaise around the wizarding world. 

"They'll understand, Aric," Lupin said in a more sympathetic and less teasing voice. "The crane people usually mate for life, not unlike wolves. I don't know all that much about their culture, but I believe that it's considered taboo to try and break a bond between mates. And I believe that's why the crane clan finally gave in and decided to allow Chizuru and Karasu to marry. As little as they liked the idea of their princess marrying a tengu, they couldn't really argue with the fact that he was her chosen mate. So I don't think that Takeshi's parents would try to force him to give you up."

"Unlike my parents," Aric said bitterly.

"Here," Theo said, handing Aric a velvet pouch. "I brought this like you asked me to."

"Thanks, Theo," Aric said, grateful for the change in subject as well as the pouch. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Theo said. He and Lupin and Dylan all looked a little curious, but managed to refrain from asking him what he intended to do with the item in the pouch.

Even so, Aric felt obliged to say, "Um...it's sort of a gift for someone. I'll tell you about it later." All three of them grinned at him knowingly then, so perhaps he wouldn't have to explain it, after all.

Lupin had brought a deck of cards (non-exploding), and the four of them passed the time by playing cards together. Aric also asked Lupin for more details about the R.A., and Amos Diggory's and Ian Williamson's plots. Lupin had given him only a basic explanation during his first visit, not wanting to tire or upset Aric too much.

"You might have to testify at the trial," Lupin said. "Although they'll avoid calling on you unless absolutely necessary, considering your condition."

"I'll testify even if they have to carry me in on a stretcher," Aric said firmly. "I'll do whatever I can to see those two locked up. Although, personally, I think that Azkaban's too good for them. And those R.A. kids, too. They deserve more than detention and points being taken off! Not just because of what they did to me, but because they almost got Master Diggory killed!"

"Calm down, Aric," Lupin urged, looking concerned. "Takeshi will be upset with me if you have a relapse."

"If it makes you feel any better," Dylan said, "Slytherin will win the House Cup this year, thanks to you."

"What?" Aric asked in confusion, not sure how he could help win the Cup, and why they thought he would care about a stupid Cup when Lukas had nearly been murdered.

"That's right, I nearly forgot!" Theo exclaimed. "The Headmaster awarded you a hundred points for your heroism, for risking your life to save Master Diggory!" His cousin grinned at him proudly, and Aric felt both pleased and a little embarrassed. He hadn't done it for the points, of course, but somehow it made him feel good to know that Theo was proud of him. 

"Those R.A. people all hate Slytherin," Dylan said, sounding smugly satisfied. "And they'll have to sit there and watch us receive the Cup, knowing that it's because of them that we won."

"You did ask for mercy on Corbin's behalf," Theo pointed out.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't deserve to squirm a little," Dylan replied. "And I don't care anything about the other R.A. members; they're not related to me. Although I think Tristan's not so bad."

"All the purebloods are related, to some degree," Lupin reminded them. "And I believe that most of the R.A. members are truly repentant. Although I'm not saying that you should forgive them. They'll have to work to earn back the trust that they've lost, and prove themselves worthy of forgiveness."

Aric didn't think that he would ever forgive them, but he didn't argue further, because Takeshi walked in carrying a tray of food. "Sorry to interrupt," he said cheerfully. "But it's dinnertime for Aric."

"We should get back to Hogwarts, too," Lupin said. "Or we'll miss our own dinner. Goodbye, Aric. We'll come see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Professor," Aric said. "And tell Master Diggory that he doesn't have to sleep here tonight. I'll be okay, really."

"I'll tell him," Lupin said with a smile. "Although I don't know if he'll listen."

Takeshi moved a sliding table over the bed and set the tray down in front of Aric. "More soup," Aric sighed in a resigned tone. Not that the soup wasn't tasty, but having it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was getting a little old. At least this time there were bigger chunks of meat in the soup, and a little bread and butter to go along with it. There was also a goblet filled with a steaming, smoking potion that smelled unpleasant and very familiar.

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Takeshi said, handing him the goblet. "The full moon is coming up in a few days, so you need to start taking it now." As Aric regarded the smoking goblet with a look of trepidation, Takeshi added, "I'm told that it's best to drink it down all at once, as quickly as you can."

Aric took a deep breath, then gulped the potion down, trying to taste as little of it as possible--with rather limited success. "Faugh!" he gasped, then clamped his hand over his mouth, fighting a gag reflex that nearly caused him to spew the potion back up again. Once the potion was safely in his stomach, and seemed likely to remain there, Aric shuddered and said, "Merlin's Beard, that tastes foul!"

"I'm sorry," Takeshi apologized. "So far no one's been able to come up with a way to make it taste better without rendering the potion ineffective. Here, have some tea to wash the taste out of your mouth." Takeshi poured out a cup, informing him, "I made it myself; it's an old family recipe. There are several healing herbs in it, so it's very good for you."

It was slightly bitter, but Aric drank it without complaint, since Takeshi had made it specially for him. And it did help wash the taste of aconite out of his mouth. He ate his dinner, while Takeshi explained the changes that his body was undergoing. 

"You'll find that your sense of smell and hearing will become more acute," the mediwizard said in a professional tone. "And your canine teeth will gradually become a little longer and sharper. Usually not enough to be very noticeable, although it seems to be more pronounced in some than in others. Lukas, for example, looks very wolf-like even as a human, with his teeth and the yellowish cast to his eyes. Perhaps it's because his strain of lycanthropy was inherited, although I can't be absolutely certain of that."

Aric nervously ran his tongue across his teeth, wondering if they were already beginning to feel sharper, or if it was just his imagination. "I won't look like a vampire, will I?"

Takeshi smiled. "No, your fangs won't grow that long, I promise. Let's see, what else? Well, as you know, a werewolf heals wounds very quickly. In wolf form, you'll heal wounds almost instantaneously, and even in human form, your wounds will heal faster than normal, and will almost never leave a scar. If a werewolf is very badly injured, he or she will automatically transform into a wolf, even if the moon isn't full, as a defensive reflex, to speed up the healing process and fight off their attacker. A werewolf is also highly resistant to illness and poison--which is of course how you were able to survive Williamson's attack. As the full moon draws near, you'll find that the wolf's instincts grow stronger, which means that you might become a little moody, and find that you lose your temper more easily than normal."

"Merlin," Aric muttered disgustedly. "Wolf P.M.S."

Takeshi laughed, "Well, that's not exactly how I would have described it, but I guess that's close enough. Without the Wolfsbane Potion, a werewolf experiences severe pain, fatigue, and nausea in the days leading up to the full moon, but the improved potion that Professors Snape and Kamiyama developed mitigate most of the symptoms. You might feel a little tired and sore, but no more so than after a good workout in Lukas's Physical Defense class."

"That is not reassuring, 'Keshi," Aric told him dryly.

"You'll need to remember to take the Wolfsbane Potion every day during the week of the full moon," Takeshi continued. "But that won't be a problem, since I'll be around to brew it for you and make sure you take it. You'll retain your human mind in wolf form, although as I said, the wolf's instincts will be stronger than normal." Takeshi grinned. "For example, Remus tells me that he enjoys being scratched behind the ears when he's a wolf."

Aric let out a little snort of derision. "I don't think that's really a wolf instinct. I doubt that very many wolves get scratched behind the ears in the wild."

"Well, a canine instinct, perhaps," Takeshi laughed.

Aric changed the subject, in an attempt to postpone thinking about what was going to happen to him during the full moon. So he told Takeshi about the R.A., allowing his anger to take his mind off his apprehension. The mediwizard's reaction, though, was somewhat less than satisfactory.

"I don't blame you for being angry," Takeshi said quietly. "But their flaw is a common one in the wizarding world: they let their pain and their prejudice blind them to the truth. They sought revenge for their lost loved ones, but blamed the wrong people. Did you not once seek revenge on Theodore for your uncle's death?"

"Yeah," Aric admitted, flushing with shame. "Okay, I know that I was wrong about Theo. But at least I never tried to kill him."

"Maybe deep down, you didn't want to hurt him, because you loved him even though you were angry at him?" Takeshi suggested gently.

Aric shrugged uncomfortably. He thought that Takeshi was probably giving him too much credit. He had never liked Theo much when they were children, maybe because he had been jealous that Rafe had seemed to favor Theo. So he wasn't sure what had really held him back from going beyond verbal insults. Maybe it was cowardice, and fear of being punished. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Rafe would have been disappointed in him.

"The R.A. members have been punished," Takeshi said. "They've disgraced themselves in the eyes of their Houses. Living with that disgrace might be worse for some of them than being expelled or even imprisoned would be."

Aric nodded reluctantly. Loss of status was one of the worst fates that could befall a member of the pureblood elite.

"And Tristan has lost his uncle," Takeshi continued. "And I don't just mean to prison. Things will never be the same in the Diggory family again. Amos betrayed his family, betrayed their love and faith and trust in him, when he tried to murder Lukas. And Stewart has lost his lifelong dream of becoming an Auror. That probably hurts him worse than anything else that you could do to him."

Aric nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but what about Isabelle Laroque? Sure, she got expelled, but that was what she wanted in the first place. Well, maybe not to be expelled, but she gets to go home like she wanted, so where's the justice in that?"

Takeshi bit his lip, looking pensive and troubled. He was silent for a long time, then finally answered, "I don't condone what she did, but I can understand how she feels, a little."

"What do you mean?" Aric asked.

"I know what it feels like to be caught between two worlds," Takeshi replied softly, "and to truly belong to neither. My family moved here from Japan when I was about five years old, not long after the war ended. I have lived in England for most of life, but my parents raised me to think of myself as Japanese. As much as they love their adopted land, they consider themselves Japanese first and British second. They took the assignment of establishing the restaurant and the Portkey partly out of a sense of adventure, but mostly to protect their homeland. It was part of a long-term plan to forge an alliance with Britain and prevent the Dark Lord from spreading his influence to our country.

"So not unlike Isabelle, I grew up speaking Japanese at home, although my parents also taught me English. I grew up following Japanese customs and beliefs. I went to school at Hogwarts, but I was also tutored by my parents, and by relatives back home in Japan, when I visited them during the summer, in traditional Asian forms of magic that are not taught in the West. My brother was not really happy in England. He didn't fit in at Hogwarts, and he soon began showing a talent for Weaving magic, which can only be taught by the crane people, so he chose to go back home to Japan to be educated at Mahou Gakkou and apprenticed to a Weaver of the crane clan. I remained at Hogwarts, and I made friends and was happy there. In some ways, I became more British than Japanese, but I was aware that there was something that always set me slightly apart from my classmates. No one teased me or shunned me, and maybe they didn't even notice, but I always felt different, somehow. I had been raised in a different world from them.

"At the same time, I found that when I returned to Japan for summer vacations, I no longer felt entirely Japanese, either. I still spoke the language fluently, but didn't recognize some of the slang terms that the children my age used. I had to remember to be more polite and indirect when speaking to people, particularly my elders, lest I be considered rude for being too blunt. I had to remember to use terms of address and levels of formality that are not used in Britain. Nothing too difficult, really, but I had to make a conscious adjustment; it no longer came to me naturally. And just when I'd begun to get used to it, I had to make another adjustment when I returned to England and Hogwarts.

"Since my family moved to England, I have never felt entirely British or entirely Japanese," Takeshi said with a sad smile. "I love both lands, but I find that I cannot belong completely to either of them. Perhaps that's why I get along with the werewolves so well, because they are outsiders in their own country."

"I didn't know," Aric said, feeling stunned and a little ashamed of his self-centeredness, that he had never noticed that Takeshi was so unhappy. "You always seemed happy..."

"For the most part I am," Takeshi assured him. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. And please don't say anything about this to my parents. I've never told them, because it would only make them feel guilty. They did what they thought was right, establishing the restaurant and maintaining the Portkey. And perhaps it did play a role in helping to win the war. It allowed Professors Snape and Kamiyama to work together on the Wolfsbane Potion, without which Lukas and his pack probably would not have considering allying with the Order of the Phoenix. And the Portkey enabled the tengu warriors to come to the Order's aid. And of course Miyako Kamiyama came through the Portkey and gave Harry the prophecy that told him how to defeat the Dark Lord: 'The Lion must embrace the Serpent in the end'."

Takeshi smiled at Aric warmly. "And most of all, if I had never moved to England, I would never have met you, my wolf. Finding you was worth any pain that I might have suffered."

"I love you, Takeshi," Aric whispered, tears stinging his eyes. He still wasn't sure that he was worthy of being loved by someone as wonderful as Takeshi, but he silently vowed to do his best to make his lover happy from now on.

"I love you, too," Takeshi whispered back, kissing him tenderly on the mouth. "I am content now, because it doesn't really matter where I live, so long as I am with you."

They continued kissing, until things grew heated, and Takeshi reluctantly pulled away. "No strenuous activity, remember?" the mediwizard admonished.

"But you're the one who started it!" Aric reminded him.

"Then eat your dinner, so you can recover your strength and heal quickly," Takeshi told him with a smile. 

Aric obediently picked up his spoon and resumed eating. "Any chance that I can get some real food tomorrow?"

"I'll see what I can do," Takeshi promised. "I think you can start eating regular meals tomorrow, since your body seems to be healing rapidly. You're very lucky, you know; the poison normally does permanent damage to the victim's internal organs. Williamson is still on a liquid diet, and in severe pain. He'll never fully recover, even with the antidote."

"Good," Aric said spitefully. Then he frowned. "Is he a patient in this ward?"

"No," Takeshi said, shaking his head. "He's being treated in the Spell Damage ward. Which is a good thing, since I might be tempted to break my Healer's oath if he were under my care." Aric was a little startled by the grim and fierce expression on Takeshi's normally kind face, and his beloved smiled at his surprise. "You are my mate," Takeshi said quietly but passionately, "and I would, if necessary, kill anyone who tried to harm you."

His eyes were almost glowing with intensity, and Aric was reminded that he was not fully human. Once he had thought that "non-human" meant "less than human," but now he realized that it could mean "more than human" as well. He understood now why the Japanese wizards considered the native shapeshifters to be something akin to divine spirits.

"I'm fine," Aric reassured him, gingerly reaching out to touch his hand. "Merlin, I almost feel sorry for Williamson if you get your hands on him!"

That broke the mood and Takeshi laughed, looking human once more. Aric finished his meal, and Takeshi cleared the dishes away. "I need to check on the other patients now," he said, giving Aric a quick kiss. "But I'll come back and see you after that."

"Could you wait just a minute?" Aric asked, remembering the gift that he'd asked Theo to bring. "I have something for you."

"Oh?" Takeshi said curiously. "What is it?"

"This," Aric said, pulling a large gold-and-silver egg from the pouch Theo had fetched from his room.

"Very pretty," Takeshi said.

"I found it during the Easter egg hunt at Lady Selima's party during spring vacation," Aric explained. "It was the grand prize."

"Congratulations," Takeshi said, looking puzzled. "So...you want to give me the egg?"

"Not the egg, but what's inside it," Aric replied. He opened the hollow egg, taking out the jade serpent-shaped bracelet that lay within it. Some impulse had made him take it back with him to Hogwarts, although he had no longer wanted it after his mother had suggested that he give the bracelet to Miranda. He didn't really know why he had brought it, but he was glad now that he had. 

"My mother told me that I should give the bracelet to my betrothed. So I would like to give it to you, Takeshi." He held out the bracelet to Takeshi, who just stood there staring at him wide-eyed. Aric suddenly wondered if he'd made a mistake. Maybe it sounded to Takeshi like Aric was giving him a cast-off gift that had been intended for Miranda, and he cursed himself for being so stupid and thoughtless.

But then Takeshi smiled, looking touched and pleased, and took the bracelet from him. "I would be honored to wear it, Aric," he said, slipping the jade serpent onto his wrist. It blended in nicely with his green uniform. "A perfect fit," he said, holding up his wrist to admire the bracelet. "It's beautiful," Takeshi said, bending down to kiss Aric. "A jade serpent to remind me of my Slytherin lover. Thank you, Aric. I only wish I had some token to give you in return."

"But you do," Aric said, grinning. "I mean, you already did." Takeshi gave him another puzzled look, and Aric reached over and pulled the white feather out of the nightstand drawer. "You gave me this," he said, holding up the feather. "I found it on my bed yesterday, after you transformed. I..." He blushed, feeling a little embarrassed, but continued, "I held it as I slept, and I think it helped to ward off any bad dreams. I mean, after being poisoned and turned into a werewolf, you'd have thought I'd have a few nightmares, but I didn't."

Takeshi smiled at him, looking a little amused. "You want one of my feathers as a love-token?"

Aric nodded. "I'll wear a ring or bracelet if you want, but this is all I really need. It reminds me of you, how beautiful and magical you are." He brushed the tip of the feather across his cheek. "And it feels like your hair," he said dreamily. "All smooth and silky."

Takeshi laughed gently. "I never thought that you could be so romantic and poetic, my love!" he declared, and Aric felt his face turn bright red, but then Takeshi kissed him again, and that made up for any amount of embarrassment he might have felt.

"You may keep that feather, then," Takeshi said when their lips parted. "But I want to give you a better token than that. We'll go to Japan this summer to visit my brother, and I'll ask him to weave you a robe made from my own feathers."

Aric shivered with pleasure at the thought of wearing a silk robe made of Takeshi's feathers; it would be like wearing his lover against his bare skin. He felt a stirring in his loins, and sighed, wondering how long it would take for him to recover enough to participate in "strenuous activity". Then something occurred to him, and he frowned. "Won't it take a lot of feathers to make an entire robe? Does it hurt to pull them out?" He had sudden vision of his lover looking like a plucked chicken.

"It does take a lot of feathers," Takeshi replied, smiling. "But it doesn't hurt very much, and my feathers grow back much more quickly than a normal bird's would. They usually regenerate completely within a few days, and I don't have to pull them out all at once. It usually takes about a week to weave a bolt of silk from feathers. Dyeing, cutting, and sewing the cloth will take a little longer, of course."

"Your brother?" Aric asked uneasily. "Is he a crane, too? No, you said that you were the only one in your family who could transform..."

"Ichiro cannot transform, but he does have the Gift of Weaving, which is very rare for a part-blood," Takeshi explained. "Especially one who is unable to take crane form. But the Head Weaver says that he is the most talented apprentice she has had in decades. While I, on the other hand, have the Gift of transformation, but I have absolutely no talent for Weaving." He smiled. "My brother tried to teach me, but alas, everything I tried to create turned into a mess of tangles and knots. But don't worry; Ichiro will weave you a beautiful robe."

"Are you sure he'll want to weave a robe for me?" Aric asked anxiously. "I mean, are you sure he'll approve of me...of us...?"

"Of course," Takeshi said warmly. "I've told him all about you. In fact, he told me to bring you with me when I come to see him."

"You have? He did? Really?" Aric wondered exactly what Takeshi had told his brother. He knew that there was a great deal about himself that was not very flattering, and he had hurt Takeshi badly in the past, although he hadn't meant to.

"Really," Takeshi said reassuringly. "Don't worry. My brother understands the pressures of family and society. He won't hold anything against you. Your people are not the only ones who can be prejudiced, you know. Some of the pureblooded cranes look down on those of us who are part human, and there were many people who objected when Ichiro became the Head Weaver's apprentice, and again when he married her daughter. He is a respected member of the clan now, but it took a great deal of hard work and patience to win their acceptance. He won't hold your gender against you, and he'll understand why it was so hard for you to go against your family." He lifted Aric's hand to his lips and kissed it. "And in the end, you chose me. You are my mate, and my family will welcome you as a son and brother."

"And your parents?" Aric asked, still feeling worried.

"They know that I'm gay," Takeshi said matter-of-factly. "I haven't exactly told them about you yet, but I've brought home boyfriends before, so they won't be shocked." Aric felt a sudden, unexpected surge of jealousy towards those past boyfriends. Takeshi's eyes drifted towards the flowers his parents had sent, and he smiled. "Although they might have guessed by now. They're quite perceptive. Don't worry, Aric. My mother is part crane, so they understand that lifemates cannot be separated. They'll just be happy to see that I'm happy." He gave Aric one last kiss. "Now I really do have to go and tend to my other patients, but don't worry, my wolf. I promise that my family will love you." He smiled delightedly. "I can't wait for them to meet you!"

Takeshi sounded so sure of himself that Aric couldn't help but believe him, although he still felt a little apprehensive. His fingers absent-mindedly stroked Takeshi's feather as he thought to himself what a strange family he had gained. Lukas, as a sort of foster father, and a pack of werewolves to be his brothers and sisters. His cousin Theo, and by extension, Lupin, Snape, and Dylan. And Takeshi's family, descended from shapeshifters and shamen. And Erika, at least, still seemed to regard him as family, even if his parents and grandparents no longer did.

Aric touched the feather to his lips. He was still a little nervous about meeting his new "in-laws," but found that he was almost looking forward to it. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale to him--parents who cared more for their child's happiness than their position in society. Not to mention the whole other fairy tale element of a crane maiden marrying a human man. He really hoped that Takeshi's family liked him, not so much for his own sake, but for Takeshi's. He wanted more than anything to make Takeshi happy, so he didn't want to cause trouble between Takeshi and his family.

And then he remembered that he had already met Takeshi's mother when Lupin had treated him to lunch at the Sakura, and again at the Career Fair. He remembered thinking that she had seemed too young and beautiful to have an adult son; perhaps that was partly due to her crane blood. He remembered that she had been kind to him, and had obviously loved her son very much. Then he relaxed, thinking to himself that if the other Kimuras were anything like Takeshi, then everything would be all right. Surely Takeshi could not have turned out so kind and open-minded if his parents had been anything like Aric's. He sighed with relief and lay back in bed, still holding the feather in his hand.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeshi, Lupin, and Lukas try to help Aric adjust to life as a werewolf, and Aileen Pierce schemes to bring Narcissa and Lukas together.

Aric felt much better the next morning--well enough to devour a large breakfast of eggs, sausages, bacon, and toast. "Ah, real food!" Aric sighed with satisfaction, licking the grease from his fingers when he was done. He finished every scrap of food; the plates looked so clean that they almost didn't need washing. 

Takeshi seemed very pleased with his appetite, saying that it was a sign that he was recovering. The bite wound was also healing rapidly. Takeshi removed the bandages, since Aric's flesh had begun to knit together and the wound was no longer bleeding. The newly-formed layer of skin was still red and tender, but Takeshi promised him that it would not leave a scar, and that the wound would probably vanish completely after his first transformation.

The thought of undergoing that transformation terrified Aric, but he tried not to let it show, not wanting to seem like a coward in front of his lover. "Great," he said, with an air of bravado. "I wouldn't want any scars marring my good looks!"

"I'll always love you, scars or no scars," Takeshi laughed, then gave Aric a kiss. But he must have seen through Aric's act, because he added gently, "And don't worry about the full moon. Everything will be all right. Remus and Lukas and I will help you through it."

"I'm fine," Aric said quickly. "I'm a little nervous, of course, but I'm fine." Takeshi kissed him again and left to check on his other patients, promising to come back when he was done.

But Aric wasn't really fine. The thought of changing into an animal was frightening, and he wasn't sure if he wanted Takeshi there to see it. He was scared--scared that it would hurt, because he had read that the transformation was very painful, and he wasn't sure how well he would be able to handle it. He didn't want Takeshi to see him screaming or crying; the transformation would be hard enough without worrying about whether he might humiliate himself in front of his lover. And he was scared because he was turning into an animal, and not just any animal--a beast, a predator. 

He knew that the Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to keep him from going mad, but what if something went wrong? What if he lost control of himself and attacked Takeshi? He knew that was an irrational fear, since Lupin had been taking the potion for years without any problems, but he just couldn't shake it. Besides, what if the poison in his blood somehow interfered with the potion? Takeshi didn't seem to think it was a problem, but then again, this situation had never come up before. The Healers said that it had been decades since the last time someone had been treated for the Sanguis Veneno spell.

He began reading one of Lupin's romance books to try and take his mind off of things. But he could hear a couple of nurses whispering as they passed by his room.

"That's the Dietrich boy, isn't it?"

"Poor thing, I hear that his family's cast him out. How horrible to be heir to a wealthy family one minute, and an outcast the next."

"But he chose to be bitten, so I hear," the first nurse said. "I don't think I could have done that!"

"Well, would you rather be dead?" the second nurse asked, and then their voices faded as they moved out of range.

Aric shuddered a little when he realized that he had only been able to overhear them because of his heightened wolf senses. Takeshi had spoke of them as if they were an advantage, but Aric saw that it was also a curse as well. Sure, it might be useful sometimes to hear things that you weren't supposed to, but there were some things that it was better not to hear--like the scornful, pitying, and curious comments that people were bound to make about him behind his back. He knew that the nurses' comments were probably mild compared to the gossip that must be buzzing around the school and the circle of pureblood elite that he no longer belonged to.

Now that he was aware of it, he found it hard to tune out the background noises around him. Not just the gossip, but the groan of a patient in pain, the voice of a Healer telling a nurse what medication to give a patient, the sound of a cart being rolled down the hall and the clinking of plates and silverware as an orderly gathered up the breakfast dishes from the other rooms. Aric continued turning the pages of the book, but was unable to concentrate on the story, and looked up with relief when he heard footsteps and voices coming down the hallway, this time familiar and welcome.

"Hello, Aric," Lupin said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thank you," Aric replied.

Lupin suggested a game of cards, and Aric willingly set aside the romance novel as Lupin dealt out the cards for himself, Aric, Theo, and Dylan. Snape merely greeted Aric curtly, then excused himself saying that he had an errand to run. 

They played cards and talked for about an hour, until Snape returned and said it was time to go back to Hogwarts. "You go on ahead," Theo told the others. "I'll be along in a minute." 

"What is it, Theo?" Aric asked curiously once they were alone.

"I brought you a gift," Theo replied. "But I thought it might be better to give it to you in private."

He handed Aric a leather-bound book. It appeared to be very old; the leather was worn and scuffed, and the pages were yellow with age, but the lavishly painted illustrations were still beautiful, if slightly faded. Aric idly flipped through the book, wondering why Theo had given it to him. At first glance, it appeared to be an adventure novel similar to one of Lupin's books, about a young wizard who was journeying to faraway lands. But then Aric turned the page, and the next illustration nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He flipped through the book more rapidly, and discovered that the book was indeed a story about a young wizard's adventures--more specifically, his amorous adventures with handsome young men. The book was actually a sex manual thinly disguised as a novel, with very graphic and detailed text instructions, and equally graphic illustrations.

Aric slammed the book shut, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. "Where on earth did you get this book, Theo?!" he demanded.

His cousin just grinned at him unrepentantly. "Hidden in a secret cupboard in the Nott mansion library," he replied casually. "It seems that one of my ancestors had tendencies similar to mine. That book was quite educational, but I don't really need it anymore, so I thought I would pass it on to you."

"What makes you think that I need it?" Aric snapped, still blushing.

"Well, I've only heard of you having girlfriends, not boyfriends," Theo said with a shrug. "Although I guess that isn't the sort of thing that you'd advertise. But if you don't want it..."

"I didn't say that," Aric mumbled. He had fooled around some with guys at Durmstrang, but his experience was mainly limited to a little mutual groping and wanking, and the occasional blow job (received, never given) from one of the younger boys who worshipped the stars of the Quidditch teams. Takeshi was older and probably much more experienced than he was; Aric suddenly recalled his casual reference to past boyfriends, and felt a sudden surge of jealousy and uneasiness. Theoretically, he knew how men had sex with each other, but maybe he'd hang onto the book anyway. Just so he didn't look like a complete ignoramus or inexperienced schoolboy the first time they made love.

Aric opened the book again, and it fell open to an illustration that made him raise his eyebrows and turn even redder. "Merlin's Beard, is that actually possible?"

Theo leaned over to his shoulder to see what he was looking at. "Only if you're a contortionist, I think."

"So you and Zabini haven't tried everything in this book?"

"Not everything," Theo replied cheerfully. "I didn't really fancy trying to explain it to Madam Pomfrey if I pulled a muscle or tore a ligament. And I'm not into threesomes. The second part of the book is a bit...um...fanciful. But you should find the first half useful."

"Hello, Theodore," Takeshi said. "I thought you had left with the Professors. What are the two of you looking at?"

Aric jumped guiltily, shoved the book under the stack of Lupin's books, and hastily said, "Oh, nothing. Just one of Professor Lupin's romance novels. They're a bit silly, but there's not much to do here besides read." Aric laughed nervously, trying not to blush, although he was afraid that he was failing miserably. The one time that his new wolf senses would have come in handy, and he hadn't even heard Takeshi enter the room! Apparently they didn't work when he was being distracted by pornographic pictures.

"Well, I'd better be going," Theo said quickly, hurrying towards the door. He winked at Aric from behind Takeshi's back and said innocently, "Enjoy the books."

"I'm going to kill him," Aric muttered under his breath.

"I hope you haven't started fighting with Theodore again," Takeshi said sternly. "The two of you have been getting along so well recently."

"Er, no, everything's fine," Aric assured him. And mostly he was still grateful to his cousin, although he did want to throttle him at the moment.

"That's good," Takeshi said, then glanced at the stack of books. "Ariel Zoltaire, hmm? I've a read a couple of them; they're not bad." His eyes fell on Theo's book, and he said casually, "'Adventures of a Journeyman Wizard'? That's not one of Zoltaire's books, is it?"

"No, but it seems quite similar," Aric said, trying to sound indifferent. "Adventure, romance, that sort of thing." He quickly changed the subject. "How soon can I go home? I mean, back to Hogwarts?"

"You can probably return to school tomorrow, if you promise to take it easy," Takeshi replied, and they chatted about other things for several minutes. Aric relaxed, feeling relieved that Takeshi hadn't recognized the book or looked inside it.

At least until Takeshi said he had to take care of another patient, turned to leave, and then paused. "By the way, Aric," he said, his brown eyes sparkling mischievously behind his gold wire-rimmed glasses, "Hogwarts has a copy of that book in the restricted section of the library. I'm rather fond of page fifty-two, myself. Maybe we can try it out when you're feeling better."

The mediwizard casually sauntered out the door as Aric's face turned beet red and he cursed Theo under his breath. And then Aric picked up the book and turned to page fifty-two.

*** 

While Lupin and the boys were visiting with Aric, Snape paid a visit to the Spell Damage ward. The Auror standing guard outside Williamson's room nodded at Snape and allowed him to enter unchallenged. Snape nodded back, entered the room, and shut the door behind him.

"What do you want?" Williamson asked sullenly.

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to your savior?" Snape asked in a silky voice, holding up a potion bottle.

"You're going to lord it over me for the rest of my life, aren't you?" Williamson groaned. "Maybe I'd be better off dead!"

"Well, if that's what you prefer..." Snape said with a shrug, heading for the door.

"No!" Williamson shouted frantically. "No, please wait! I didn't mean it!"

Snape smiled at him evilly, like a cat toying with a mouse. He waved the potion bottle in the air invitingly and purred, "So how badly do you want this, Williamson?"

"What do you want, Snape?" Williamson asked desperately.

Snape's voice suddenly turned brisk and businesslike. "You are going to stand trial in a few days. You will plead guilty to all charges and confess all your crimes. In particular, you will make sure to clear the werewolves and myself of any wrongdoing. You will accept the sentence that the Minister of Magic proposes."

"That's life in Azkaban," Williamson whispered.

"Life in prison, or no life at all," Snape said mercilessly. "It's your choice, Williamson. Just remember, that even if by some miracle you should win your freedom, it will be very short-lived without this potion." He held the potion bottle up high, then opened his hand and let it fall. Williamson let out a shriek of fear and protest, but Snape caught the bottle with his other hand before it hit the ground.

"All right," Williamson said in a defeated tone, his shoulders slumping. "You win. I'll do whatever you say."

"Good," Snape said. "Then I'll drop the potion off with your Healer." And then he left the room, smiling very smugly to himself.

*** 

Aric received another visitor after lunch, a man that he didn't recognize, who appeared to be in his twenties and had dark brown hair. "Yes?" he asked cautiously.

"Hello," the man said, smiling at him pleasantly. "I'm Brian Perry. I'm a member of Lukas's pack. You don't know me, but I believe that you've met my wife, Kyra, and my nephew, Martin Parry. He's a sixth-year Gryffindor at Hogwarts."

"Oh, right," Aric said. "I didn't know that Martin was your nephew, though."

"My family disowned me after I was turned, so it's kind of a secret," Brian said without any bitterness. "Martin is the only one who's still speaking to me."

"I can relate to that," Aric said ruefully. "Well, it's nice to meet you, but..."

"But why am I here?" Brian finished. "I wanted to greet you on behalf of the pack, for one thing. And I also thought you might like to talk to someone who's been through the same thing you have. Takeshi is very knowledgeable about werewolves, but he isn't one himself. And Remus and Lukas have lived with their lycanthropy for all of their lives, and I'm not sure that they can really understand how disconcerting it is to suddenly be turned, to be bombarded with a sensory overload..."

"Yes!" Aric exclaimed, suddenly feeling a sense of relief that someone understood what he was going through. "Just this morning, I overheard a couple of nurses whispering about me, feeling sorry for the poor Dietrich boy. I'm sure they didn't realize that I could hear them. And I can hear all these other little sounds that I normally wouldn't, and it's driving me up the wall!"

"I know," Brian said sympathetically. "You'll find that your sense of smell has become more sensitive, too. Smells that used to be pleasant, like perfume, might be too strong and overpowering for the wolf to enjoy. And you'll find yourself being able to pick up subtle scents that a normal human would never notice. As I said, you'll find it disconcerting at first, but eventually you'll get used to it. And it does have some advantages. For example, I can recognize my mate's scent anywhere." He smiled, his eyes looking a little distant and dreamy for a moment. "It's reassuring, to be able to smell her scent and feel her presence in our flat, even when she's not there."

Aric wasn't sure that was enough to make up for all the disadvantages, but complaining about it wouldn't change the fact that he had been turned, and Brian was trying to be helpful, after all. "What about the transformation?" he asked nervously. "What is that like?"

Brian's expression turned grave. "I won't lie to you. It was terrifying for me at first. It's not so much the pain, although it does hurt, but the fact that you can feel your body changing, and feel the wolf's mind taking over your own. Doing it without the Wolfsbane Potion is..." He visibly shuddered. "...horrible. Transforming with the potion isn't as bad, because you retain your sanity, but the wolf's instincts still become stronger when you take wolf shape. Your sense of sound and smell is even more enhanced, but most of all, you can feel the wolf in your mind. 

"I...I didn't get along with the rest of the pack at first, and I'd avoid them as much as I could when I was human, but we had to spend the full moon together. At first, I tried to sulk in a corner all night, but the wolf is a social creature, and I found myself wanting to join the rest of the pack--to romp and play with them, or even just to sit quietly and be near them. Sometimes we'd get into scuffles, and Lukas would come over and break it up. And when the pack leader growls at you, all you want to do is roll over on your back and submit to him." Brian grinned. "Sometimes I even feel that urge in human form! Lukas can be quite intimidating."

"Try taking Physical Defense lessons from him sometime," Aric said dryly. "And I know you mean well, but you're not really being very reassuring."

"I know," Brian replied, looking unoffended. "I just wanted you to be prepared. But it does get better with time. It'll go easier on you if you don't fight the transformation, and try to accept the wolf. A wolf is really not so different from a human when you come right down to it. Both seek companionship. Both defer to their leaders. Are the Houses at Hogwarts really so different from a wolf pack? Doesn't the Headmaster command the school, and the Minister of Magic command the wizarding world, the way that Lukas commands his pack?"

"I suppose you're right," Aric conceded. "And Lukas is certainly a better leader than Cornelius Fudge was!"

"And in some ways, perhaps a wolf is superior to a human," Brian continued. "Wolves are loyal to their pack. They work together to support and protect each other. From time to time, a wolf might try to challenge the pack leader, but he'll do it openly. Wolves don't try to stab each other in the back the way the pureblood nobles do."

"I guess you're right," Aric said reluctantly. 

"The pack will help you," Brian said reassuringly. "I know the idea of being surrounded by wolves seems a little scary, but even when we weren't taking the Wolfsbane Potion, being with the other pack members made me feel calmer." Aric nodded, not really feeling convinced, and Brian said, "Look, I know none of this is really making you feel any better. All I can say is that in a couple of days, the worst will be over. Once you've undergone your first transformation, the others won't be so scary. And the pack will help you through it."

"Thank you," Aric said. It was true that nothing was going to take away his fear of the transformation, but the other werewolf's kindness did make him feel a little better.

"I know what it's like," Brian said softly. "Going from being a pureblood heir to being an outcast. I lost everything when I was turned. I had nowhere to go when I left St. Mungo's. Arthur Weasley was my roommate in the hospital, and we got to be friends. He loaned me some money--he didn't have much then, but he gave me what he could spare. That's the kind of guy he is. He also helped me find a job. And then Lukas found me and took me in. I lived in a cramped apartment with the other werewolves." 

He flushed and continued, "I wasn't very grateful. Most of them had been werewolves a lot longer and were a lot more streetwise than me. I was scared of them, and I resented having to live with people I wouldn't have given the time of day to in my old life. But I couldn't leave, because I had nowhere else to go. I complained constantly about the life I had lost, even though most of the others had also lost their homes and families. I thought I was better than them, because I had been a wealthy pureblood before I was turned. The rest of the pack didn't like me much. They called me a whiner and were always telling me to shut up. I wouldn't have blamed them if they had thrown me out on the street, but they never did. And finally I realized that they never would. Because even if I was an ungrateful, annoying little git, I was pack to them, and a wolf is always loyal to its pack. They stood by me and looked after me in spite of all my whining. And I realized that they were my true family, and would never abandon me the way that my blood relatives had. Just as we will never abandon you, Aric. Because you are our packmate, our brother. And even if you weren't a werewolf, we would still love you, for saving Lukas's life."

"Thank you," Aric whispered, moved by Brian's words, and the obvious sincerity in his voice. He was too choked up to speak for a moment, but then he cleared his throat and managed to say in a normal voice, "I think you had it a lot worse than I did. I chose to be turned, so at least I sort of knew what I was getting into. And even if my family has halfway-disowned me, I still have a lot of people who are supporting me: Lukas, Takeshi, Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, my cousin Theo and his friends, and my sister Erika."

"I'm glad," Brian said warmly. "Welcome to the pack, Aric."

He held out his hand, and Aric shook it. "Thank you. I'm glad to meet you...brother."

*** 

Aric was released from the hospital the next day and returned to Hogwarts, with stern instructions from Takeshi and the Healers to take it easy, get plenty of rest, and not exert himself. Brian had been right; breakfast in the Great Hall was something of a sensory overload, as he was bombarded by sounds and smells. The smells were mostly pleasant--the aroma of the breakfast foods, although he did notice that a few of the girls were wearing perfumes that made him want to sneeze.

As for the sounds, he did overhear some of the students gossiping about him, but there were so many people talking at once, that it all mostly fused into an incoherent buzz. Dumbledore welcomed him back and praised him for his heroism, and the students, particularly the Slytherins, applauded loudly. Aric was both embarrassed and pleased by all the attention, but he was very relieved when breakfast was finally over, and he could retreat to the privacy and quiet of his dorm room.

His housemates welcomed him back with more warmth than they had ever shown him before, and a few of the younger ones wanted to ask him what it was like to be a werewolf. But fortunately, Theo and Dylan convinced them to leave him alone and let him rest. He spent most of the day resting in bed reading. He wasn't up to facing the crowd in the Great Hall for lunch, so Lupin had the house-elves deliver a meal to his room.

He tried to relax, but it was difficult to forget that the full moon was tomorrow, and he couldn't help but worry about what the transformation would be like. He even resorted to reading Theo's book to take his mind off of things--which resulted in an entirely different set of problems, but a little sexual frustration was preferable to imagining what turning into a wolf would feel like. There were a number of things he looked forward to trying with Takeshi after they moved in together, and a few things that were probably more titillating on paper than in practice. 

At least page fifty-two didn't seem to involve any acrobatics that might result in strained muscles. It showed the hero of the book making love to a beautiful young man who lay beneath him, an expression of ecstasy on his face, his long legs hooked over the hero's shoulders. It didn't seem all that different from having sex with a woman, which made it seem less intimidating than some of the other things in the book. Aric indulged in a brief fantasy where he was the hero of the story, and it was Takeshi writhing in pleasure beneath him, until he suddenly realized that Takeshi had only mentioned a fondness for page fifty-two, and had never said whether he pictured himself on the top or the bottom. Aric broke out into a sweat and set the book aside, thinking to himself that it was going to take some getting used to, being in a relationship with a guy. 

But then he thought of Takeshi's smile and silk-smooth hair and sweet kisses, and he smiled. Even if there was some initial awkwardness and embarrassment, eventually they would work things out. All that really mattered was that they loved each other and could finally be together.

*** 

Meanwhile, Lukas and Lupin were in Snape's dungeon quarters arguing over where Aric should spend the full moon. Lukas wanted to take Aric to the townhouse where his pack lived, and Lupin thought he should stay at Hogwarts.

When Snape suggested that they take their argument somewhere else so he could read the Daily Prophet in peace, Lupin objected, "We're not arguing, Severus. We're discussing."

"You're 'discussing' very loudly, Lupin," Snape said sarcastically.

"I'm responsible for him," Lukas said stubbornly. "I'm the one who turned him; he's part of my pack."

"I'm just not sure that it's a good idea for him to spend his first full moon with your pack," Lupin told Lukas, ignoring Snape. "I think that he might feel intimidated and overwhelmed with so many other wolves around. And they're all strangers to him except for you. I thought it might be easier if he spent it here with just a few people that he's familiar with--you, me, Severus, and the boys."

Lukas shook his head. "Well, he's met Kyra and Brian, but you're right that they're mostly strangers to him. But I think that, in a way, he might feel more comfortable transforming in front of strangers. You have to understand the pureblood mentality, Lupin. He won't want people who have known him as he was before to witness his humiliation."

"But he doesn't--"

Lukas waved off Lupin's objections. "Oh, I know that he no longer considers non-humans to be monsters, but when you have lived in that world for so long, it's impossible to shake off your upbringing that quickly. Among my pack, he'll just be another werewolf, not a pureblood who's fallen from grace. I think it would be best, for the first time at least, that there are no humans around when he transforms. And I think it would do him some good to see that's he not alone. Here at the school, he's the sole werewolf among the students, while at the townhouse he'll merely be one of many. It will make him feel like less of a freak or outcast."

"What do you think, Severus?" Lupin asked.

Snape shrugged. "What he said about pureblood upbringing is true. My father went into seclusion to avoid having to face his peers after he lost his Ministry position. It all depends on whether Aric's pride outweighs his fear of spending the night with a pack of werewolves."

"The Slytherins often seem to have more pride than common sense," Lupin said with a smile. "Although that's a Gryffindor failing as well. I suppose we should go talk to Aric and let him decide."

Lukas blinked in surprise, then smiled a little sheepishly. He was so used to making decisions for his pack, that it hadn't occurred to him to ask Aric's opinion. "He's old enough to make his own decisions," Lukas agreed. "Takeshi's coming by soon to see Aric, so let's talk to him then.

*** 

Takeshi stopped by in the afternoon to deliver his Wolfsbane Potion, which pleased Aric. He didn't really have to do that, since Snape had already brewed a batch for Lupin and Lukas. Aric choked down the potion, and was rewarded with a kiss and a cup of tea, but he soon found out that this wasn't just a romantic visit, because his two werewolf teachers had also arrived to discuss where he was going to spend the full moon.

"I thought I'd just stay in my room," Aric said hesitantly. "I'll be safe, since I'm taking the potion, right?"

"Yes, but you shouldn't be alone, especially for your first transformation," Takeshi said gently. "A wolf is a social animal and doesn't like to be alone, and besides, it's easier to bear when you have friends or family to support you."

"I would like for you to come meet my pack and spend the full moon with us," Lukas said. "We'd like to welcome you to the family."

"But if you prefer to stay at Hogwarts, you're welcome to spend the night with us," Lupin said, smiling at Aric warmly.

"Us?" Aric asked.

"Severus, Theo, Dylan, and myself," Lupin replied. "We always spend the full moon together. It's become something of a family tradition."

"If you want to stay at Hogwarts, I'll stay with you, too," Lukas said. "But I don't think that you should be alone during the full moon."

"Because something bad might happen?" Aric asked apprehensively.

"No, Aric," Lukas said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "It's just that--as Takeshi said--the transformation is easier when you have other people with you. The first time you transform is always a little scary."

"Were you scared? Your first time, I mean?" Aric asked.

"I was terrified," Lukas replied promptly, without any sign of shame. "But my parents stayed with me--I was just a small cub then, so a strong Sleeping Potion was enough to keep me too sedated to bite or scratch. And having them near me calmed me down. My mother always sang lullabies to me during the full moon, even after it became too dangerous for my parents to stay in the same room with me, and that seemed to calm down the wolf a little, even during its worst rages."

Takeshi reached out and laid his hand over Aric's. "I'll stay with you, too," he said tenderly.

"No!" Aric said sharply, without thinking, then felt guilty when Takeshi looked hurt. "I mean, that's nice of you, but...um...if something goes wrong..." He struggled to find an explanation that wouldn't hurt Takeshi's feelings, which was rather difficult, because he was having difficulty explaining it to himself. He knew that his fear was mostly irrational, but that didn't make it any less strong.

"There's no danger if you're taking the potion--" Takeshi started to argue, but he subsided when Lukas shook his head, although he still looked a little hurt and unhappy.

"I'm sorry," Aric said contritely. "I'm just nervous, I guess. I didn't mean to snap at you. I know there's nothing to worry about, but still...what if the poison has some weird effect on the potion? I don't want to hurt you if anything goes wrong."

"It's all right," Takeshi said gently, squeezing Aric's hand. "You don't have to apologize. I know you must be nervous. I've spent plenty of time treating werewolves at the hospital and the clinic, and I've been present during several transformations without any problems." He and Lukas exchanged a look. "But if it will make you feel more comfortable, I'll entrust you to Lukas or Remus tomorrow night."

The three of them waited expectantly for him to make a decision. The thought of being around an entire wolf pack was a little intimidating, but so was the thought of transforming in front of Theo, Dylan, and Snape. They lived with Lupin and had apparently witnessed his transformations, so Aric knew that they wouldn't be frightened or disgusted by him, but still...he didn't really like the thought of having an audience. And of course he didn't want to bite them, either, on the off chance that something did go wrong. At least with the werewolf pack, he'd be on equal footing, since they would all be transforming, and would be unlikely to hurt any of them--at least not permanently.

"I'll spend the full moon with your pack," Aric said to Lukas in a quiet, hesitant voice. "If that's what you think I should do."

Lukas nodded, looking pleased. "Then I'll meet you here tomorrow. We'll leave before it gets dark, so we can have an early dinner with the pack. It'll give you a chance to meet everyone before moonrise."

The word "moonrise" filled him with terror, no matter how many times Aric told himself that there was nothing to fear. He nodded silently, afraid that his voice might squeak with fear if he spoke.

Lupin must have sensed what he was feeling, because he suddenly gave Aric a hug and said reassuringly, "Everything will be all right, Aric. I promise. I'm always here if you need me."

At least that startled Aric out of his fear. "Ah...okay, Professor," he said, feeling a little flustered and embarrassed. "Thanks."

Lupin chuckled. "Don't mind me; Severus says that I'm a sentimental Gryffindor idiot. And you can call me 'Remus' if you want. I won't be your Professor for much longer, but I hope that I can be your friend."

Lupin's grin was so infectious that it was impossible not to smile back at him. "Okay, Remus," Aric said. "Thank you."

Takeshi kissed him on the cheek, right in front of Lukas and Remus, which made Aric blush, which he supposed was pretty silly. It wasn't like the other two werewolves didn't know what was going on between them. "I need to get back to the clinic, but I'll stop by with your potion tomorrow."

"You're not mad at me, are you?" Aric whispered anxiously. Then he realized that there was no point in whispering, since the other two werewolves could probably hear him. This heightened sense thing seemed to have a lot more drawbacks than advantages.

"No, I'm not," Takeshi said softly, with a look of such love in his eyes that Aric could not doubt him. "I wish I could be with you, but I know that Lukas will take good care of you. And you'll see that there's nothing to fear." He kissed Aric again, and then left with Lupin and Lukas.

Still, Aric felt bad about hurting Takeshi's feelings, and he promised himself that he would find a way to make it up to his lover later.

*** 

Takeshi was still feeling a little hurt as he left the dorm with Lukas and Remus. "I know that he's scared, but I thought he knew that he could trust me," he said sadly.

"It's not so much you that he doesn't trust, but himself," Lukas told him. "He's afraid that he might lose control of the wolf and hurt you. It's the greatest fear that any werewolf has, the fear that we might hurt our loved ones. Along with the fear that our loved ones will see us as monsters."

"But I'm a shapeshifter myself," Takeshi argued. "And he knows that I work with werewolves--"

"It's not a rational fear, Takeshi," Lukas interrupted. "Aric knows all these things. Intellectually, he knows that his fears are irrational, but he can't help himself." He added in a gentle tone of voice that seemed to be meant to take the sting out of his words, "Only another werewolf can truly know what it's like. Even though you are a shapeshifter, it's not the same thing. You retain control of your mind when you change, and the change itself is a conscious, voluntary action, unlike the forced transformation of a werewolf."

"I can understand how Aric feels," Remus said softly. "I was afraid to let Severus watch me transform. But he insisted on staying, and I felt such relief to know that he still loved me, that he wasn't frightened or repulsed by my wolf form." Then he grinned. "And he's very good at scratching me behind the ears!"

"Let Aric spend this full moon with the pack," Lukas told Takeshi. "Once he understands that he's still himself even in wolf form, and that he won't turn into a ravening beast, I think he'll feel a little easier about letting you spend the next full moon with him."

"He is a Slytherin," Remus said thoughtfully. "And Slytherins don't like to lose control of themselves in front of other people, even people that they love--in some circumstances, especially people that they love. And undergoing the transformation into a werewolf is the ultimate loss of control."

"I understand," Takeshi said, feeling much better. "I'll be patient with him. I won't pressure him, but I won't give up, either. I want him to know that I love him no matter what form he takes."

"Persistence," Lupin said cheerfully, "that's the key. You keep wearing them down until they're too tired to fight you anymore." His eyes sparkled with mischievous glee. "That is how I won Severus, after all!"

Takeshi laughed along with his two friends, feeling almost lighthearted. Aric was nowhere near as formidable as the Potions Master, after all. It wouldn't be easy, but he was confident that everything would work out in the end.

*** 

Meanwhile, in his quarters, Snape suddenly sneezed and then muttered to himself sourly, "Why do I have the feeling that someone is talking about me?"

*** 

The hours passed all too quickly--or at least, that was the way it seemed to Aric--and before he knew it, he was taking the Floo with Lukas to the werewolves' townhouse. He stood there for a moment, feeling tongue-tied and awkward as he faced a crowd of unfamiliar faces. Then he spotted Brian, who smiled at him in a friendly manner and stepped forward to shake his hand, and then Kyra gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and said, "Welcome to the pack, Aric."

The blonde werewolf twins, Lance and Lyra, suddenly ran up to him and began chattering at him eagerly. "I remember you, you're Uncle Takeshi's friend!" Lyra told him.

"Now you're a wolf, like us!" Lance said enthusiastically. "That's great! Now you can play with us!"

Their mother came and gently pulled them away. "I'm sorry about that," she said apologetically to Aric.

Aric was a little taken aback by Lance's statement, but he could see that the children didn't mean any harm. They had been werewolves for most of their short lives, and lived in the midst of a pack of werewolves, so it probably seemed normal to them. He smiled, a bit wryly, at the thought of a household where humans were the odd ones out.

As if echoing his thoughts, Max--the human child that he also remembered from his trips to the clinic--said wistfully, "I wish I could be a wolf, too."

"Max!" his mother Rachel exclaimed, sounding as if she didn't know whether to be horrified or amused.

Aric crouched down so that he could be on eye level with the boy. "Well, you're pretty lucky that you don't have to drink the Wolfsbane Potion; it tastes really awful." He grimaced in an exaggerated manner that made Max laugh.

"Yeah, it does smell really gross!" he agreed.

"And when you go to Hogwarts," Aric continued, "you can study Transfiguration, and maybe you can learn how to turn yourself into a wolf. That would be a lot better than being a werewolf, because you wouldn't have to take the potion, and you could change at any time, not just during the full moon."

"Really?" Max asked, his eyes lighting up.

"It's possible," Aric replied. "But not everyone can become an Animagus. It takes a lot of magical talent, and you'd have to study very hard."

"I'll work hard!" Max said eagerly. "Boy, I can't wait to go to Hogwarts! Will you help me study, Aric?"

"Sure," Aric replied. "Although Transfiguration isn't really my best subject." Then an idea occurred to him. "Professor Lupin's friend, Sirius Black, is an Animagus. Maybe he can help you with your studies when you're old enough."

"I like Sirius, he's nice," Max said happily. "He can turn into a dog; that's almost as good as a wolf."

The way Aric handled the children seemed to endear him to the other werewolves, and for the most part, they greeted him warmly. Two of the younger werewolves, Kian and Kai, were only a year or two older than he was, and asked him a lot of questions about Hogwarts and Durmstrang.

"It's too late for us," Kian sighed wistfully. "But at least the cubs will be able to go to school."

"It would have been great to have had the chance to play Quidditch," Kai sighed. Apparently both he and Kian were Quidditch enthusiasts, although they'd never had the chance to play, and didn't get to see many matches. Tickets could be expensive, especially for matches between the most popular teams, and were considered a luxury that took second place to more important expenses--like food and rent.

"Maybe you could teach us to play, Aric," Kian suggested, and several of the other werewolves looked interested by this idea. "Just for fun, of course."

"We could call it the Werewolf Cup," Kai joked.

"Sure," Aric said. "We'd need a large, open space where we could play, though."

"Amos Diggory is going to prison, right?" Kian said. "Which means that Lukas will probably get the estate. You'll let us play on the estate grounds, won't you, Lukas?"

"I can just picture a Bludger flying through the window," Lukas sighed, shaking his head, but he was smiling.

"We're going to live in a mansion!" Kai laughed excitedly.

"It's not mine yet," Lukas pointed out dryly. "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

"Come now," Rachel said, smiling at all of them indulgently. "We'd better sit down to dinner before it gets too late."

They made casual small talk as they ate, seeming to deliberately avoid any serious or touchy subject matters, like Aric's family or how the others had been turned. Instead, they talked about how most of the werewolves who had lost their jobs were being rehired now that their innocence had been proven, and Kian and Kai said that they'd been hired to work at the Sakura, which was expanding into delivery service. Kian was training to become a chef, and Kai was going to be a delivery person.

"They're also hiring a couple of your yearmates when they graduate," Kai told Aric. "Two Hufflepuff kids, Hannah and Ernie."

Which led to more discussion about Hogwarts and Quidditch. The younger werewolves questioned him eagerly about both subjects, and also teased him gently about his relationship with Takeshi.

"We knew he was pining over someone, but we didn't know who," Kian said. "You're quite the heartbreaker, Aric!"

Their teasing seemed good-natured, so Aric tried not to take offense, although he was a little embarrassed. It was really not so much different than joking around with his friends at Hogwarts or Durmstrang.

One werewolf, though, sat back and watched him with a cool, slightly wary look on his face. He didn't look hostile, exactly, more like he was observing Aric and waiting to see how he would act before passing judgment on him. He supposed that the werewolves had good reason to be wary of purebloods, but he didn't really like the idea of someone looking at him that way, like Snape evaluating a student's potion with a critical eye. The werewolf, who had been introduced to him as Ash, had a long scar across his face, which made him look a little scary, like the sort of person you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley.

There were a few humans in Lukas's pack: Max, two other children, and a couple of humans who were married to werewolf spouses. After dessert, the adult humans shooed the reluctant children upstairs to be put to bed.

"But I want to watch," Max protested. "I want to play with Lance and Lyra, and I want a piggyback ride, Uncle Lukas!"

"Not this time, Max," Lukas said, picking up the boy and giving him a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Tonight is a special night, just for the wolves, to welcome Aric into the pack. But I'll give you a piggyback ride upstairs, and read you a bedtime story before the moon rises."

Max seemed placated by that, and Lukas lifted the boy onto his shoulders and went upstairs with the others. Brian told Aric quietly, "Lukas thought you might feel more comfortable without any humans around tonight." Aric nodded gratefully. He had enough to worry about without feeling self-conscious about being watched, not to mention being afraid that he might bite an innocent child!

The pack grew quieter as moonrise drew closer, most of them taking seats on the couch or on the floor, waiting in silence or talking to each other very softly. Aric paced nervously in one corner of the room, a little apart from the rest of the pack. He felt, more than heard, a presence coming up behind him, and turned to see Ash standing beside him.

"Relax, pack brother," the older werewolf said. "It won't be as bad as you think."

"I hope not," Aric said. He tried not to stare, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the scar on the other man's face. "Did you get that when you were turned?" he asked hesitantly.

Something cold and dangerous flashed in Ash's hazel eyes, just a brief flicker, but it was enough to make Aric regret his impulsive question. Ash fit the image of a stereotypical werewolf much better than Brian or the twins did. "There is an unspoken law in the pack, not to ask each other about the past, unless someone chooses to volunteer that information," Ash said in a level voice. "Most of us have painful memories that we wish to forget. Lukas always tells the new members that they are leaving the past behind and starting over fresh."

"I'm sorry," Aric apologized. "I didn't mean any offense." It was actually a rather appealing concept--starting over fresh, no one knowing anything about who you had been in the past. But of course everyone here knew his background--the story of how he had been turned had already been printed in the Daily Prophet.

"It's all right," Ash said. "You didn't know." He gave Aric an appraising look and added, "Perhaps someday I'll tell you how I got this." His fingers lightly traced his scar. "When I know you a little better."

Aric took that to mean, "When you have proven yourself to me and I know that I can trust you."

"I'm very grateful to you for saving Lukas," Ash continued. "And I'm glad that Takeshi seems to have found happiness with you. But remember one thing..." He slung an arm around Aric's shoulders in a companionable manner, but his feral, sharp-toothed grin was more threatening than reassuring. "Takeshi is a good friend of mine, and if you break his heart, you will answer to me, packmate or not."

"Of course I won't break his heart!" Aric said indignantly, then gave the other werewolf a suspicious look. Takeshi had never mentioned the names of the "past boyfriends" he had brought home to meet his parents. "What's it to you, anyway?"

Lukas descended the stairs, saying, "It's almost time."

Ash smiled and said, "He's my friend and I don't want to see him get hurt, that's all," and moved away before Aric could question him further. Lukas gave him a questioning look, and Ash just smiled innocently.

Aric didn't have time to worry about it, because a shaft of silver light spilled through the window, and he gasped as he felt a sudden, intense pain wracking his body. He dropped to his knees, crying out in pain and surprise; it felt like every joint in his body was being twisted in a different direction.

Lukas knelt down beside him, his face pale and strained. "Don't try to fight it," he said. "Give in to the change; it will pass more quickly that way."

Aric was too terrified to heed Lukas's advice, but the transformation swept over him against his will. He screamed as he heard his bones cracking, felt his flesh twisting and reshaping itself. He watched black fur sprout on his arms and hands, watched his fingers fuse together to form a paw, watched his nails lengthen into talons. His scream suddenly changed into a howl, and he realized that the transformation was complete.

He felt a cold nose touch his face, and he literally yelped in surprise. A large yellow wolf was nuzzling him, a concerned look in its yellow-green eyes.

"Lukas?" he tried to ask, but it came out as a short bark. The yellow wolf nodded and licked his face in what seemed to be a reassuring gesture. Obviously, it was more than a little weird to have your teacher licking your face, but it seemed perfectly natural to Aric's wolf self. He automatically started wagging his tail, then turned to stare at this new appendage. He tentatively wagged it again; it definitely felt very strange to have a body part that didn't exist on his human body--sort of like having an extra arm or leg.

Lukas watched him carefully, then seemed satisfied that Aric wasn't going to freak out and have a nervous breakdown. (Could a wolf even have a nervous breakdown?) In any case, Lukas licked Aric's face again, then ambled off and lay down on the rug beside the fireplace.

Aric cautiously walked around the room, testing his new body. Walking on four legs took a little getting used to. If he thought about it too much, he would get flustered and stumble, but he found that if he tried not to think about it and let the wolf's instincts take over, he could manage okay.

All around him the other wolves were greeting each other, touching noses and licking faces, and in some cases, wrestling in a playful manner. Two blond wolf cubs chased each other's tails, then pounced on each other, yipping happily, and rolled across the room like a little ball of golden fur. In one corner of the room, a black wolf and a wolf with pale golden fur--Aric thought they were Kian and Kai--curled up together, nuzzling each other in a very affectionate and somehow intimate way. Aric mentally raised his eyebrows (the wolf didn't really have any), but the other wolves paid the pair no heed, so it obviously wasn't a big deal to the pack. Well, at least it meant that they wouldn't give him and Takeshi a hard time. Lukas had certainly taken things in stride, and even Ash's reservations didn't seem to have anything to do with Aric's gender.

The other wolves greeted him in a reserved manner, seeming to understand that he was nervous about all this. Brian barked out a greeting and wagged his tail, his mouth dropping open in a lupine grin, and Kyra gave him an affectionate lick on the face. Even Ash came over and briefly but politely touched noses with him. Aric noticed that Ash's scar carried over to his wolf form, as did the gray in his hair. Aric also noticed that each of the wolves had their own unique scent. He couldn't really find the right human words to describe it, but while each of them obviously smelled like a wolf, there was a subtle difference to each individual. 

He watched the pack, feeling a little calmer. Being a wolf was a little weird, but he still felt like himself. He didn't have any uncontrollable urges to bite or attack anyone. A few of the wolves were playing, a few were nuzzling each other, like Kian and Kai, but most of them were just sitting or lying on the living room floor. Lukas lay in front of the fireplace, eyes closed, apparently dozing, but his tail moved slowly from side to side, waving languidly in what seemed to be an idle, unthinking motion. 

Lyra and Lance stopped wrestling and stared at Lukas, their attention seeming riveted by his tail, their heads moving back and forth, following the motion of his waving tail. They crept up behind him, like wolves stalking their prey. Lukas was still dozing, seemingly oblivious. The twins pounced at his tail, but it suddenly jerked up out of reach, then settled back down to the floor. The twins stared at each other in confusion, obviously not sure whether Lukas had done it on purpose or not. Then the werewolf leader rolled over on his side, snoring loudly. The cubs looked relieved, then determinedly pounced on his tail again, and once again, it jerked out of reach at the last second. The twins let out little yips of laughter as they kept pouncing at his tail, which kept darting out of reach. One of them (Lance?) finally gave up and jumped on Lukas's back instead, while Lyra kept chasing his tail, finally catching hold of it in her mouth.

Lukas suddenly jumped to his feet and jerked his tail up, sending both cubs tumbling across the floor. He cuffed the twins lightly with one paw and growled at them, and they ran away to hide behind their mother. Lukas growled, paced in circles on the rug beside the hearth three times, then lay back down and closed his eyes again. And before long, the twins started stalking his tail again, their eyes eager and unrepentant.

Aric shook his head and laughed, which came out as a soft "wuff". Then he found a corner of the room where he wouldn't get in the way of the wolves who were playing, and lay down. Well, this wasn't really so bad, he told himself, although it was still a little unnerving to look down and see black-furred paws instead of hands or feet. He yawned, his long, pink tongue curling, suddenly feeling sleepy. All that worrying had worn him out, or maybe it was because he was still recovering from the poison. He stretched out, laid his head down on his front paws, and closed his eyes. If he slept, maybe the night would pass more quickly, and when he woke up, he'd be human again.

He was just starting to doze off, when he felt sharp little teeth sink into his tail. He woke and leapt to his feet with a startled yelp. He instinctively turned on his attacker with a snarl and lashed out with one paw. He heard a yelp of pain, then realized that he had struck one of the twins. Before he had a chance to react, Ash leapt at him and knocked him over, snarling and baring his teeth. Aric snarled back at him and slashed at his face with his front paw, leaving a row of bloody scratches across Ash's snout. And then they were rolling across the floor, biting and clawing at each other as the other wolves began barking, sounding alarmed.

And then someone was barking at them loudly and angrily, and a heavy body slammed into them, stunning both Aric and Ash. Lukas seized Aric by the scruff of his neck with his jaws and hauled him off of Ash, flinging him to one side with a quick jerk of his head. Then Lukas cuffed Ash, a real blow this time, hard enough to send him flying across the room, and the scarred wolf scrambled to his feet and backed away, whining and tucking his tail between his legs. 

Lukas turned on Aric, growling and snarling angrily. An overwhelming, instinctive fear gripped him, banishing rational human thought from his mind. Before he knew what he was doing, Aric rolled over onto his back, tucked his tail between his legs, and threw back his head, exposing his throat. He whimpered in terror as he saw Lukas's jaws open wide, and then they closed around his throat, firmly enough that he could feel the sharpness of Lukas's teeth, but not hard enough to break the skin. Then Lukas released Aric and turned towards Ash, who immediately rolled over and exposed his throat as Aric had. Lukas closed his jaws around Ash's throat, then released him, and then cuffed both of them sharply on the ear and gave each of them a stern glare.

Slowly, Aric's humanity returned to him, but he was shaken by how quickly and completely the wolf had taken him over. Both Brian and Takeshi had been right when they had said that the wolf's instincts were stronger during the full moon--if anything, that was an understatement.

A black-furred wolf--and somehow Aric knew it was Rachel--stepped forward and growled at Lukas in a way that was both gentle and disapproving. And somehow, mostly by the tone of her voice, Aric understood what she was trying to say: "Don't be so hard on the boy. This is all new to him; he was just reacting instinctively."

Aric heard two soft little whimpers, and saw that the twins were slinking towards him, crawling on their bellies (a sign of submission, according to his DADA textbooks), ears and tails drooping. They whined at him contritely, and again, he knew what they were saying: "We're sorry, we were only playing."

Aric made what he hoped was an apologetic sound, and lowered his head to lick their faces. _I'm sorry, too. You just startled me; I didn't mean to hurt you._ The twins seemed to understand, because they looked relieved.

Then Ash approached him, not quite slinking, but with his head hanging, a sheepish expression on his face--one that looked almost comical on the face of a wolf. And Aric understood that even if the werewolf seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about Aric for some reason, he also had reacted mainly out of instinct, to protect the twins. 

Aric touched his nose to Ash's in a conciliatory manner. He was relieved to note that scratches on Ash's face had closed up and were healing. Without thinking, he gave them an apologetic swipe with his tongue, although the human part of him was slightly appalled at the thought of licking a strange guy's face. But it seemed to be the right move, because Ash licked his face in return, looking much more friendly than he had all evening.

The twins barked and wagged their tails, looking up at him hopefully. _So you want to play, do you?_ Aric thought, and barked and waved his tail in an inviting manner. The twins gleefully pounced on it. Soon, some of the older werewolves were joining in, and Aric found himself romping, tail-chasing, and wrestling for most of the evening. Lukas remained apart from the mob, watching from his place beside the hearth with amused and indulgent eyes.

Finally, they collapsed into an exhausted heap of furry bodies. His head was resting on someone's flank--he thought it was Kian's, but he was too sleepy to be certain--while the twins were curled up against his side, already snoring. Katherine gave his face an affectionate lick, as if to thank him for playing with the cubs, and lay down beside them. The human part of Aric thought he should probably feel a little uncomfortable about all this, but the wolf craved the closeness of its pack, and was perfectly content. 

_Well, I'll worry about it in the morning,_ Aric decided, and closed his eyes and went to sleep.

*** 

The next morning, Aric awoke in a tangle of human bodies. The twin's heads were pillowed on his stomach, and his own head was resting on Kian's thigh. Katherine and Ash were lying on either side of him. Startled, Aric started to sit up, and the twins made sleepy noises of protest. Moving more slowly, he carefully eased the twins off of him without waking them, and tried to move out of the pile of sleeping bodies without stepping on anyone.

Lukas was still lying on the rug beside the fireplace, but he rose, yawned, and stretched as Aric made his way towards him. "How do you feel, Aric?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess," Aric replied. He felt tired and a little sore, but Takeshi had said that was to be expected. Then he realized that he didn't feel as sore as he should. "In fact, I feel pretty good." He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it to one side to check his shoulder; the bite wound was completely healed, the skin smooth and unscarred. "The bite mark! It's gone!"

"Then your healing powers are working as they should," Lukas said, sounding pleased. "It's one of the few benefits of being a werewolf."

"Maybe there are others," Aric said slowly, thinking of the way that the pack had made him feel welcome, and the feeling of contentment he'd had at the end of the night.

Lukas smiled at him approvingly and patted him on the shoulder. "You handled yourself pretty well last night. I'm sorry if I was a little rough with you."

"It's okay," Aric said. "We were all acting on instinct, I guess. Being a wolf is going to take some getting used to."

"I should have warned you about the twins," Lukas said apologetically. "Or warned them to be more careful of you, since it was your first time transforming."

Aric grinned at him. "How many teeth-marks are there on your tail?"

"If it weren't for our healing powers, there would be quite a few," Lukas laughed. "The pack will be waking soon. Would you like to help me get breakfast started?" He hesitated. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to return to Hogwarts now?"

Aric thought it over for a moment. "No, I'd like to stay. I'll help you with breakfast, but you'll have to tell me what to do. I don't really know how to cook."

"I'm not much of a cook, either," Lukas admitted. "But it doesn't really take a lot of skill to fry bacon and eggs."

So the two of them started breakfast, and before long, Rachel and Katherine woke and came over to help. They set the table with heaping platters of toast, eggs, bacon, and sausages, and bowls of porridge for the children, with plenty of milk and brown sugar. Max offered Aric a spoonful, which he ate to be polite, and he had to admit that it wasn't half-bad, although the wolf much preferred the sausages and bacon. And if some of the bacon was slightly burnt, everyone was too hungry to notice. The transformation apparently left them with wolfish appetites, because all the werewolves devoured their meals hungrily. 

Between bites, Aric talked and joked easily with the other werewolves, and the children chattered at him nonstop. Apparently having a new "uncle" was quite a novelty to them. Having younger siblings was quite a novelty to him, too, since he'd been the youngest child in his family. After breakfast, he played with the kids for a little while, but soon found himself worn out from giving piggyback rides and having Max and the twins pounce on him. At least they weren't able to bite his tail this time. Funny--it had been weird having a tail, but now it felt a little weird not to have one.

So he felt a little regret, but mostly relief when Lukas said, "That's enough. You can play with Aric another time. He needs to get back to school."

"Okay," Max sighed reluctantly.

"Will you come back and play with us again?" Lyra asked wistfully.

"Sure," Aric said, patting her on the head. "I'll come again on the full moon. Or before then, even."

He said goodbye to the children, then stopped to talk to Ash before he left. "Takeshi means a lot to me," he said. "I know I've done some dumb things in the past, but from now on, I'll work hard to make him happy. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt him." And then he recalled that he had hurt Takeshi yesterday without meaning to. "Maybe I could bring Takeshi with me on the next full moon?"

"Of course," Lukas said. "Takeshi is not a wolf, but he is part of the pack."

"Friends?" Aric asked, extending his hand towards Ash. The other werewolf hesitated for a moment, then nodded and clasped his hand firmly.

"Typical men," Kyra said with a snort of amusement. "They beat the crap out of each other, then become best friends."

"He did not beat the crap out of me," Ash protested indignantly. "I was winning the fight."

"No way!" Aric objected. "I was winning! After all, who's the one who got his face scratched?"

"Knock it off," Lukas growled. "Or I'll beat the crap out of both of you."

Ash just laughed. "You fight pretty good for a pampered pureblood," he told Aric, with a note of grudging respect in his voice.

"I should," Aric said with a grin. "I've been taking Physical Defense lessons from Lukas all year."

He said goodbye to his packmates, and while he was not exactly eager for the next full moon and transformation to come around, he found that he was looking forward to seeing the pack again. Somewhere along the way, he had shifted from thinking of them as "Lukas's pack" to thinking of them as "my pack".

Lukas grinned, as if he could read Aric's thoughts, and put an arm around his shoulders. "You're part of the pack now," he said. He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, flung it into the fireplace, and together he and Aric stepped through it and returned to Hogwarts.

Lupin was waiting for them when they returned. "How did everything go?" he asked, looking a little anxious.

"Fine," Aric replied casually.

Lukas smiled and ruffled Aric's hair fondly. "He got into a little scuffle with Ash, but nothing serious, just normal wolf aggressions. We worked everything out."

"With a good smack upside the head," Aric said with a rueful smile, rubbing his ear. Of course it didn't hurt anymore, but the memory was still very vivid in his mind, along with the memory of Lukas's strong jaws and sharp teeth closing around his neck.

Lukas swatted at him playfully, then continued, "He's actually very good with the cubs. Maybe I'll have him baby-sit sometime."

Lupin laughed, sounding relieved. "I'm so glad everything worked out, then," he said, and hugged Aric tightly.

"Boy, you werewolves sure are a touchy-feely lot," Aric joked, but he hugged Lupin back, and it felt strangely good--not in a sexual way, but more of a sense of satisfaction and belonging.

"It's a pack instinct," Lukas explained. "The wolf always craves companionship and contact with its pack."

"Did you two eat yet?" Lupin asked. "Breakfast is over, but I could have the house-elves fix something for you."

"We ate a huge breakfast, but I wouldn't mind a little snack," Aric admitted.

"That's only natural," Lupin assured him. "The transformation uses up a lot of energy. So, what did you think of your new form?"

"It wasn't so bad," Aric said. "But it's a really weird feeling, to have a tail!"

"I know, isn't it?" Lupin agreed. "And then after it's over, sometimes I still have the urge to wag it even though it's not there!" And the three werewolves laughed together as they headed down to the kitchen.

*** 

The Wizengamot had scheduled the trials for Amos and Williamson the day after the full moon. Arthur had apologized to Lukas for the inconvenience, but everyone was anxious to have the trials over and done with, Lukas included. Arthur did see to it, however, that the trials took place in the afternoon to give Lukas some time to rest and recover. So Lukas dressed in his finest velvet robes and his father's torc, and went to court to both testify in and observe the trials.

Williamson's trial was something of an anticlimax--at least to Rita Skeeter, who looked disappointed, obviously having expected something much more dramatic. The disgraced Auror pled guilty to all charges, and confessed his crimes in detail, clearing the names of Snape and the werewolves. Lukas noticed that Williamson kept glancing nervously at Snape, who sat in the spectator section, glowering at him balefully. Madam Bones announced a sentence of life in prison, which Williamson accepted meekly, with a bowed head.

Amos's trial, which took place immediately afterwards, was slightly more complicated. There was no question of his guilt, and just to make sure of it, several witnesses testified about his crimes, including Lukas and Aric. Tonks and Kingsley also testified about the confession he had given under Truth Potion--including the admission that his parents had murdered Cynric, which caused quite a stir in the courtroom. Rita, who was beginning to look a little bored, immediately perked up and began scribbling in her notebook with her acid-green quill.

Amos's lawyer pleaded with the Wizengamot to show his client mercy, arguing that Amos had been misled by Williamson. After all, he pointed out, it had been Williamson who had come up with and carried out the various crimes--including the plot to kill Lukas. For the most part, Amos had simply been an observer.

"Even if he did not take an active role in the crimes, he still had knowledge of them," Madam Bones said disapprovingly. "He knew in advance about the staged werewolf attacks and failed to prevent them." Elias Pritchard, a member of the Wizengamot who had been the first victim of the attacks, nodded vigorously in agreement and glared at Amos. "And most heinous of all," Bones continued, "he conspired with Williamson to murder his own nephew. Even if Williamson was the one who carried out the attempted murder, Amos agreed to it and stood by and watched as he did it. He even attacked his younger nephew, Tristan Ames-Diggory, when the boy tried to defend his cousin."

"He deliberately used a nonfatal stunning spell on Tristan," Amos's lawyer Whitby argued. "He did not want Tristan or any of the other students to be hurt."

"That does not excuse attempted murder," Arthur Weasley said coldly. "And whether he intended it or not, a number of students were put in danger because of his actions. As we heard earlier, Aric Dietrich was nearly killed and only survived by being turned into a werewolf. I am sure that the fact that Amos did not intend for him to be hurt is of little comfort to Mr. Dietrich and his family."

"Of course Mr. Diggory feels terrible about that," Whitby hastily said. "But he has been under extreme emotional stress since his son died." Whitby went on to argue that Amos had not been himself when he had conspired with Williamson, that his grief over Cedric's death and his fear that his parents' secret might be exposed had affected his judgment and caused him to act irrationally. Even if it been wrong, Whitby argued, Amos had covered up his brother's murder out of love for his parents.

"The temporary insanity defense, eh?" Tonks muttered disgustedly to herself; having finished with her testimony, she had taken a seat in the spectator stands near Lukas. "Whitby's picked up a few tips from the Muggle world, I think."

There was a long and heated debate among the Wizengamot members. One faction, led by Arthur, Madam Bones, and Mathias Donner, argued that Amos should receive the maximum sentence of life in prison, the same as Williamson. Many others, although they were shocked by his crimes, felt that they should show some leniency towards Amos, believing Whitby's argument that Cedric's death had driven him over the edge. A few members who were staunchly against non-human rights and who had been sympathetic towards Amos previously, now turned against him because he had indirectly caused a pureblood--Aric--to be turned into a werewolf. Finally they reached a compromise, and Madam Bones rapped her gavel on the desk to call for order, and announced the verdict.

"Amos Diggory, you are sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban for your crimes," Bones said in a loud, clear voice that carried to every corner of the room. "And because you have proven yourself unworthy of the title, Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory is hereby appointed head of the Diggory family. Ownership and control of all monies, properties, and other assets belonging to the Diggory family are transferred to him, effective immediately." She rapped the gavel sharply one last time. "Court is adjourned."

Amos was led out of the room, looking weary and dispirited. There seemed to be no anger or defiance left in him at all; he didn't so much as glance at Lukas, not even to glare at him. He paused only briefly to say to his wife, "I'm sorry, Helen," in a hollow voice, then let the guards take him away without waiting for a reply. 

Tonks quietly congratulated Lukas, but he didn't feel the sense of triumph that he might have expected. He felt some satisfaction, of course, but it was hard to celebrate when Gwendolyn was weeping brokenheartedly. Even though Lukas despised his uncle, he knew that Gwen loved Amos and could take no pleasure in his prison sentence. Many innocent people had been hurt by Amos's actions--including his own family. Tristan would no doubt be hurt as well, and Amos's wife Helen looked devastated.

She came up to him after the trial ended and said quietly, "I am so sorry. Amos was acting strangely recently, but I had no idea what he was up to. I know that it's no excuse, but he really did change after Cedric died. He became harder, more bitter. I think he was looking for someone to blame."

Lukas just nodded, not knowing what to say. It would be hypocritical to offer sympathy or forgiveness that he didn't feel, although he actually did feel a bit sorry for Helen, if not for Amos.

"The house at Ottery St. Catchpole belongs to you now," Helen told Lukas, without any apparent bitterness. "I'll be packed up and moved out within a week."

Gwendolyn shot Lukas a pleading look, and he said awkwardly, "You don't need to do that." He wasn't cold-hearted enough to throw Amos's wife out on the street, when she'd had no knowledge of his crimes. Besides, he would hardly feel comfortable living in Amos's old house.

But Helen smiled at him sadly and shook her head. "You are very kind, considering everything that my husband put you through, but I don't think that I could stand to live there all alone without Cedric and Amos. It holds too many painful memories. I plan to move back in with my parents. My mother is in poor health, and my father could use some help caring for her. And my sister lives nearby, and it will be good to be able to spend time with her and her children as well. Please do with the house what you will--sell it or rent it if you don't wish to live there. It doesn't come close to making up for the way that Amos wronged you." She had been remarkably composed under the circumstances, but now she began to weep. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad that Cedric isn't around to see what his father has done!"

To Lukas's relief, Gwendolyn stepped forward to embrace and comfort Helen. Robert Ames moved away from the women, beckoning Lukas to follow him, which he gratefully did. Looking as uncomfortable and awkward as Lukas felt, Robert said quietly, "Best give them some time alone. Gwen and Helen are close and they both love Amos, in spite of his faults. They can comfort each other better than anyone else right now." He held out his hand and Lukas shook it. "I admit that I had my doubts about you at first, and I'm sorry. You've conducted yourself with bravery, honor, and compassion. I am sure that you'll be a good Lord of the Diggory family, Cyril."

Lukas thanked Robert, then turned to leave, hoping that he could manage to sneak out without having to talk to Rita Skeeter. However, Morrigan, who had also been among the spectators, suddenly appeared at his side to nix that idea.

"You need to counter all the bad press that the werewolves have been receiving," the lawyer said sternly. 

"What makes you think that Skeeter will write a favorable article about me?" Lukas grumbled.

"A dramatic reversal of fortune, a werewolf villain turned hero and Lord--the Daily Prophet's readers will eat it up," Morrigan said confidently. "And the series of articles that she did on your pack after the war were her best-selling and most popular pieces, except for the Harry Potter interviews. Rita has no morals, it's true, but her number one goal in life is to sell papers, and as long as you help her do that, she'll be on your side. Now go make nice to the press." She placed her hand on his back and firmly pushed him in the direction of the reporter, who was smiling at him with an eager and predatory look on her face. So Lukas sighed and went over to face Rita Skeeter and her acid-green quill.

*** 

As it turned out, Williamson's dog was not needed as evidence, since the Auror freely confessed all his crimes, thanks to Snape. So while Lukas was being interviewed, Tonks took the dog over to Hogwarts as she had promised. The Slytherins had gotten wind of the news, and they all wanted to meet Lupin's new pet, so Lupin took the dog over to the dorm. Millicent's cat Sable hissed at the intruder, and the dog's head swiveled in the cat's direction, but Lupin kept a firm hold on the leash and said sternly, "Sit," and the dog obediently sat. Millicent gathered Sable up in her arms, although whether to protect the cat or the dog was not entirely clear. Serafina's kitten Bast boldly walked up to the dog and stared up at him with her inquisitive golden eyes. The dog cocked his head to one side, staring at the kitten curiously, then slowly lowered his head and touched his nose to Bast's in greeting.

"Oh, how cute," Miriam Baddock said. "They're making friends."

"That's a pretty brave kitten," Aric observed. "That dog could make a mouthful of her with just one bite."

"You see?" Lupin said to Snape triumphantly. "I told you that he was well-behaved!" The Potions Master just rolled his eyes. 

The dog remained well-mannered as the Slytherin children petted him, sitting quietly in place and wagging his tail, but he clearly enjoyed all the attention he was getting. "You're going to spoil that mutt," Snape complained, but for once, his students ignored him.

"What's his name, Professor?" Miriam asked.

"I haven't given him one yet," Lupin replied.

"How about 'Fluffy'?" Dylan suggested with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and Snape glared at him.

"Romulus!" Malcolm said.

"No, that's the name of Allegra's toy wolf," his sister Miriam objected.

"It's just a toy," Malcolm said with a shrug. "Is there some reason why they can't have the same name?"

"We wouldn't want anyone to mistake the dog for Miss Zabini's toy--or Lupin's brother," Snape said sarcastically, and the Slytherins laughed.

"Well, we do look a little alike," Lupin joked, crouching down next to the dog, who licked his face. "At least during the full moon."

"What about 'Salazar'?" Patrick Parkinson suggested. "He's a Slytherin dog, isn't he? I mean, he'll be living in the dungeon."

Pansy frowned disapprovingly at her little brother and said, "That seems almost like heresy."

"And dating a Muggle-born isn't?" Patrick retorted good-naturedly.

"Maybe you should call the dog 'Potter,' sir!" Draco told Snape, his eyes lighting up. "Just think, you could say, 'Sit, Potter!' or 'Heel, Potter!' or 'Fetch the paper for me, Potter!'"

"Not to mention, 'Don't piddle on the carpet, Potter!'" Aric chimed in.

"Not bad," Snape purred in his low, sinister voice as an evil grin slowly spread across his face. "In fact, I rather like it. Or perhaps we could name him 'Padfoot' after the other mutt."

Lupin chuckled and shook his head. "Very clever names, indeed, but somehow I don't think that Harry and Sirius would find it amusing." He patted the dog affectionately. "And this fellow deserves a name that is something more than a joke. Let me think...how about 'Cabal'? It was the name of King Arthur's dog--a very fine and noble name for a wizard's dog, don't you think?"

Snape and Draco sighed regretfully, but everyone else agreed that "Cabal" was a fine name. And Dylan pointed out, "And a cabal can also be a secret society, so it is a very fitting name for a Slytherin dog."

"I do hereby dub thee Cabal, then," Lupin said dramatically. The dog barked happily, then jumped on Lupin and licked his face, with such enthusiasm that he knocked Lupin over onto the floor.

"Well-mannered, did you say?" Snape asked sarcastically.

Lupin just laughed as Cabal continued licking his face. "Well, at least he seems to like his name!"

*** 

Over the past couple of months, Narcissa had wavered back and forth between being ravenous and wanting to eat everything in sight, to being too sick with fear and worry to eat. It had nothing to do with her morning sickness, which had eased somewhat, and only a little to do with her concern over concealing her pregnancy and what would become of the baby afterwards. Her fear was mainly for Lukas. It had begun as a sense of dread with the first so-called werewolf attack, then gradually increased when it became clear that the Aurors (or at least one faction of the Aurors) were targeting Lukas and his pack, and finally turned into outright panic when she heard that Lukas had not only nearly been murdered, but had bitten Aric Dietrich and turned him into a werewolf.

Narcissa knew how the Aurors thought, she knew how the Ministry worked. It didn't matter that he had only bitten the boy to save his life; he had turned a pureblood heir into a werewolf, and he would be punished for it. If he was lucky, he would receive a life sentence in Azkaban; if not, he would be executed. Or maybe it was the other way around--knowing Lukas, he would prefer death to a life in captivity.

Even when the Daily Prophet reported that Williamson and Amos had confessed to framing the werewolves and Severus, and to trying to murder Lukas, Narcissa still worried. She frequently burst into tears throughout the day, weeping hysterically at the thought of Lukas being killed or imprisoned. Aileen was a godsend to her; she came over every day to soothe Narcissa and coax her into eating.

In fact, it was Aileen who came over one evening with a special edition of the Daily Prophet and the news that Lukas had been cleared of any wrongdoing and had even been confirmed head of the Diggory family. Narcissa burst into tears of relief, then keeled over in a faint.

*** 

Aileen managed to catch Narcissa and ease her down onto the couch before she hit the floor. She had been putting up with Narcissa's hysterics for nearly two months now, and as much as she loved her friend, she was, to be quite frank, running out of patience. Enough was enough. Cyril Diggory was now Lord of a pureblood estate; he was as respectable as a werewolf was ever going to get. Narcissa needed a husband, and the baby needed a father. It would take some careful planning and ingenuity, however, to bring that about without breaking the promise she had made to Narcissa, that she would not tell Cyril--or Lukas, as he apparently preferred to call himself--about the pregnancy. However, as she sat there waiting for Narcissa to wake, an idea occurred to her...

Narcissa's eyelids fluttered slightly, and Aileen gently patted her on the cheek. "Narcissa? Narcissa dear, wake up."

"Wh...what happened?" Narcissa asked, slowly sitting up.

"You fainted, dear," Aileen replied, then gave her friend a reproving look. "Did you have anything to eat today at all?"

Narcissa flushed, casting her eyes down guiltily. "I picked at a sandwich during lunch," she mumbled. "I was too worried to eat."

"You will do harm to the baby, at this rate," Aileen scolded, and Narcissa looked up at her in alarm. Perfect. She just needed to play on Narcissa's concern for the baby a little... "Have you seen a Healer recently?"

Narcissa shook her head. "There is no one I know that I could trust to keep this a secret."

"That will not do," Aileen said sternly. "We need to make sure that the baby's all right. Who knows what effect all your stress might have had on it? Not to mention the fact that you haven't been eating properly."

"You think there might be something wrong with my baby?" Narcissa asked anxiously, her eyes filling with tears.

"Not necessarily," Aileen replied. "But we need to have you checked, just to be sure."

"But do you know a Healer we can trust?" Narcissa asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Aileen said. "Poppy Pomfrey."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Narcissa asked, her eyes widening. "The school nurse at Hogwarts?"

Aileen nodded. "She's very discreet. When we were students, she helped a friend of mine with...shall we say, a problem of a personal nature."

"I never heard about that," Narcissa said. 

"As I told you, she's discreet," Aileen replied. "I've consulted with her occasionally over the years, whenever a girl at the factory gets into trouble--an unwanted pregnancy, or an embarrassing illness, both caught from some rake who can't be bothered to look after the girl once he's had his fun."

"But I can't be seen consulting with Madam Pomfrey," Narcissa argued. "It will cause gossip among the students, even if Pomfrey doesn't tell them why I came!"

"Poppy is very discreet," Aileen repeated patiently. "I will arrange for you to meet with her secretly. We'll come and go directly by Floo, and none of the students will see you." 

Narcissa dithered and protested awhile longer, but eventually her concern for her baby won out. Besides, she was used to trusting Aileen and following her lead, a habit picked up in their schoolgirl days, which came in quite handy now. "All right," she said. "If you're sure that we can trust her."

"We can," Aileen promised, and it was true. Pomfrey really had helped Aileen's friend and the factory girls, and had never spoken a word about it to anyone else. She would never break confidentiality with a patient. But this time, for Narcissa's own good, Aileen intended to see that the secret was leaked...

*** 

Aileen arranged a meeting with Madam Pomfrey for the next morning, and they took the Floo to her office at Hogwarts. "The hospital wing is empty," Pomfrey assured them. "And I've locked the doors. If there's an emergency, I'll have to admit the patients, of course, but you will be able to get out of sight before anyone comes in." Narcissa nodded, still looking nervous.

"Why don't I keep watch outside, to give warning if I see anyone coming?" Aileen suggested casually.

"But what if someone sees you?" Narcissa asked.

"Then I'll just say that I've come to consult with Madam Pomfrey about a factory worker who fell ill," Aileen replied glibly.

Pomfrey smiled and shook her head. "It worries me a little, how quickly and easily you can come up with such excuses, Aileen."

"It's a Slytherin trait," Aileen said lightly, and Pomfrey laughed.

"I suppose so," the nurse said. "Although sometimes I think that you Slytherins talk yourselves into trouble as easily as you talk yourselves out of it." Narcissa flushed guiltily. "Well, keep watch then, Aileen," Pomfrey continued. "It's probably best if Narcissa and I talk in private, anyway."

So Aileen left the room, but she did not stand guard outside the door. Instead, she hurried down to the Slytherin dorm in search of her son, and found him in the common room.

"Mum!" Damien exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Is Dad all right?"

"Everything's fine," Aileen replied reassuringly. "One of the factory workers is ill, so I asked Madam Pomfrey to take a look at her."

"Why not take her to St. Mungo's?" Damien asked.

"Well, she can't really afford it," Aileen replied, "and besides, her illness is...of a personal nature, shall we say?"

"Oh," Damien said knowingly. 

"And I thought I would come say hello to you while I was here," Aileen said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, and Madam Pomfrey needs to see Master Diggory. I'm not sure where his office is, so would you mind giving him the message for me?"

"Okay," Damien said. "But what does she want with him?"

"I'm not sure," Aileen said. "She didn't tell me. But it seemed to be urgent."

"I'll go get him right away, then," Damien said.

Aileen noticed Draco lurking nearby, and that his attention had immediately focused on her when she had mentioned the werewolf's name. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she said, "Why don't you go with him, Draco?"

Draco gave her a suspicious look. "You don't need two people to carry a message."

"No, but Narcissa is always worrying about you," Aileen replied casually. "So I thought I could visit with you and Damien for a little while afterwards, and assure your mother that you're fine."

Draco still looked a little suspicious, but nodded his consent. "My mother worries about me too much."

"On that we are agreed, Draco," Aileen replied with a smile. The two boys hurried off, and Aileen headed back to the hospital wing at a more leisurely rate. Along the way, she encountered Snape and Lupin. "Why hello, Severus," she said pleasantly. "Professor Lupin."

Lupin nodded at her politely, while the Potions Master gave her a penetrating look with his cold black eyes. "And what are you up to, Aileen?" he asked suspiciously.

"Up to?" Aileen asked innocently.

"That innocent act might have fooled most of the teachers, but it doesn't fool me," Snape retorted. "We went to school together and I remember your little escapades quite well. Not to mention that your son takes after you."

"And it is rather unusual for a parent to drop by the school unexpectedly," Lupin added gently. 

Aileen grinned at them mischievously. "I see that I can't fool you, Severus. If you want to know what all the excitement is about, come with me to the hospital wing."

"Excitement?" Snape asked warily.

"Well, things are quiet now, but there will be a great deal of excitement in a few minutes, I think."

*** 

A confused and worried Lukas followed Damien and Draco to the hospital wing. He couldn't imagine what Madam Pomfrey might want with him, unless it had something to do with Aric, but Damien assured him that Aric was back in the dorm and seemed fine. Draco remained silent, just staring at Lukas with a sullen and--was it his imagination?--slightly guilty look on his face. Lupin, Snape, and a pretty red-haired woman were waiting for them outside the hospital wing.

"What's going on?" Lukas asked.

Snape shrugged. "You'll have to ask Aileen," he said, motioning to the red-haired woman.

Aileen Pierce--at least, he assumed that she was Damien's mother from the red hair and mischievous glint in her eyes--just smiled, looking very smug and satisfied, and tapped the lock on the door with her wand. It gave way with a little "click," and she opened the door and stepped aside.

Lukas wondered why the door had been locked, but then that thought flew out of his head when he caught sight of Narcissa sitting on a bed, being examined by Madam Pomfrey. She was clad only in a thin silk slip that did nothing to disguise her figure. Lukas noticed that her breasts and her stomach were both a good deal fuller than when he had seen her last. It obviously wasn't the sort of weight one gained simply by overeating.

"Aileen!" screamed Narcissa. "You were supposed to be watching the door!"

"What is going on here?" Pomfrey demanded.

"You...you...you're pregnant!" Lukas stammered.

"Merlin's Beard!" Damien and Snape chorused, while Lupin merely said, "Oh my," and Draco said nothing at all, although his face turned sheet-white. But Lukas was barely conscious of their reactions, as nearly all of his attention was focused on Narcissa.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lukas whispered.

Narcissa burst into tears. "Because we had already broken up by the time I found out," she wept. "Because I thought you'd be angry. And because I couldn't tell Draco."

"A baby," Lukas whispered, still feeling stunned. He slowly made his way towards Narcissa, feeling none too steady on his feet, then sank to his knees in front of her. "A baby," he repeated, laying his trembling hands reverently on Narcissa's rounded stomach, a look of mingled joy and terror on his face. "We have a baby?"

Narcissa nodded, tears still running down her face. "You...you aren't angry?" she asked in a small, hesitant voice. "You said before that you didn't want any children..."

Lukas looked up at Pomfrey. "Does it...I mean, will it...develop lycanthropy?"

"There is no reliable way to test a fetus or infant for inherited lycanthropy," Pomfrey replied. "At least not yet. But as far as I can tell, _he_ appears to be in fine health, although--" She gave Narcissa a stern look. "--his mother should make sure to eat regularly and take better care of herself."

"He?" Lukas asked eagerly. "I'm going to have a son?"

"Narcissa is going to have your son, yes," Pomfrey said, then whacked him on the head with her wand--not casting a spell, merely striking him sharply with the stick. "And if you didn't want to have children, you should have used a birth control charm!"

Lukas rubbed his head and smiled sheepishly. "I did have a charm," he said, reaching up with his other hand to touch the enspelled charm on his earring that he had bought to replace the old one--for all the good that had done. "But it...er...came off when we were...um..."

"I get the picture, perhaps a little more vividly than I'd really like," Pomfrey said dryly, and both Lukas and Narcissa blushed. "Well, what's done is done, and in approximately five months, the two of you will be parents to a baby boy. It is possible that he might develop lycanthropy, although the symptoms don't usually show up until about age four or five. However, thanks to the Wolfsbane Potion, lycanthropy is a manageable condition these days--as you should know, Lukas. It won't always be easy, but your son can lead a fairly healthy and normal life."

"Things aren't the same as they were when we were children, Lukas," Lupin said gently. "Your son won't have to suffer the madness of the change, or the pain and nausea that accompany it, so long as he takes the potion. He will be a person, not a monster, under the law. He won't have to suffer the humiliation of being registered, or the constant fear of his secret being discovered. He will no doubt encounter some prejudice, but that is not a problem restricted solely to werewolves. Hermione was taunted because of her Muggle blood, Dylan for his father's crimes, and the Weasley children for their family's lack of money. And yet they all survived and grew up into wonderful young men and women. Even if there are a few people who are rude to him, your son will grow up surrounded by family and friends who love him. And one day, I hope, he will enter Hogwarts and I will have the chance to teach him." Lupin smiled. "Maybe he'll be a Gryffindor, and annoy Severus to no end with his pranks. Or perhaps he'll be a Slytherin, which he means that he'll still play pranks, but will be too clever to be caught." 

Lukas smiled at Narcissa, with pure, unadulterated joy this time. She smiled back at him, and they simultaneously reached out to clasp each other's hands when they heard a strangled cry, and looked over to see Draco staring at them with a look of pain and betrayal on his face.

*** 

Draco turned pale, let out a strangled cry, and ran out of the hospital wing. He heard both his mother and Diggory shout, "Draco!" but he ignored them and ran down the hall, his eyes blurred with tears. His mother would have to marry Diggory now so that she would not be shamed by giving birth to a bastard child. It was bad enough playing second fiddle to Dylan and Theodore, but that was acceptable because Snape and Lupin were their parents, not his. He had at least been secure in the knowledge that his mother loved him--loved him even more than she had loved his father, because she had killed Lucius in order to protect him.

But now he would be an afterthought in his own family, second fiddle to the baby when it was born. And the baby's father was a man that Narcissa loved, a noble hero of the war, not a cold-hearted Death Eater who had tried to murder his own son. How could she help but love the new baby more than Draco? The three of them would be a happy little family, and Draco would be left on the outside, part of the family and yet not part of it. 

Second-best yet again, as he had been second to Potter on the Quidditch Pitch, second to Granger in the class standings, second to Dylan and Theo in Snape's and Lupin's affections. He should probably take one of the Potions apprenticeships that Snape's colleagues had offered and go to Japan or America; it didn't matter which, as long as he got as far away from England as he could, so that he wouldn't have to see how happy his mother was with her new family, and so that she wouldn't have to pretend for his sake that nothing had changed. 

He stumbled along blindly and nearly fell down a flight of stairs, because he couldn't really see through the tears in his eyes. But someone grabbed his arm and roughly jerked him back, saving him from falling. He turned around, and although he could not see clearly, he knew that the blurry image standing before him was Diggory.

Draco angrily yanked his arm free of the werewolf's grasp, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "What do you want?" he snarled.

To his surprise, his teacher knelt down in front of him, stared up at him with pleading eyes, and said in a very quiet but earnest voice, "Please, Draco, I beg of you, let me marry your mother."

"You don't need my permission," Draco snapped. "The two of you are adults; you can do as you please."

"Your mother loves you, Draco," Diggory said softly. "You are the most important thing in her life. She will not marry me if you are opposed to it."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the werewolf to cover his uncertainty, because he was not as sure of that as Diggory seemed to be. If Narcissa did not marry, she would become even more of an outcast among the purebloods than she already was, for bearing a child out of wedlock. Then again, marrying a werewolf and bearing his child would probably cause quite a scandal, too.

"And I will not marry her without your consent, either," Diggory said, much to Draco's surprise.

"Why not?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Because I am sorry that I hurt you, Draco, although I did not mean to," Diggory replied. "Because I cannot bear to cause any more pain to you and your mother. Because it would kill Narcissa if you turned against her. It would kill her to lose you. And because it would be wrong of me to tear apart someone else's pack."

Draco felt a pang of guilt as he realized that he was hurting his mother by trying to keep her and Diggory apart. Then he wondered if he should be offended that Diggory had referred to them as a "pack," as if the Malfoy family were a pack of wolves. "So if I say you can't marry my mother, then what will you do?" Draco demanded.

"Then I will ask her to give me the child and let me raise it," Diggory replied in an even voice. "Since I assume that a bastard, half-werewolf child would disgrace the Malfoy name." Draco felt himself flush with shame and guilt, and then resented Diggory for making him feel guilty. "The baby will grow up loved and cherished by my entire pack," Diggory continued. "But I think it would make Narcissa sad to give up her child."

Draco glared at Diggory and sneered, "Really laying on the guilt trip, aren't you?" in an attempt to cover up the fact that he did indeed feel guilty.

Diggory stared up at Draco, his eyes filled with desperation. Draco ought to be gloating right now, at seeing the proud werewolf so humbled, down on his knees begging. But he felt no satisfaction, only a sense of unease and a feeling that this was somehow wrong.

"Please, Draco," Diggory whispered. "Please let me marry your mother and be a father to your little brother. I swear that I do not want to come between you and your mother, and I will not try to replace your father. I just want..."

His voice trailed off, and Draco asked impatiently, "Well, what is it that you want?"

"To love Narcissa," Diggory replied simply. "And the baby. And you. To be part of your pack. That is all I want."

Draco dropped to his knees and burst into tears, and he did not resist when Diggory reached out and wrapped his arms around him. Diggory pulled him close, holding him tightly, and Draco found himself sobbing against his teacher's chest, letting out all the sorrow and anger he had been bottling up inside, not just since his father's death, but for his entire life. Occasionally Lucius had favored him with a gesture of affection--a pat on the shoulder, or more rarely, a brief embrace--but Draco had never, ever heard him utter the words, "I love you". Not to Draco, not to Narcissa, not to anyone. And even those paltry, wordless gestures were few and far between; it had been much more common for Lucius to regard Draco with a look of disappointment or disdain--especially once he started attending Hogwarts and found himself constantly outdone by either Potter or Granger.

"My dad never once said that he loved me," Draco sobbed. "Not once!"

"Perhaps he did not know how to love anyone," Diggory murmured. "My father knew your father's parents, and he said that they were very cold and proper. I doubt that they showed Lucius much affection when he was a child. One cannot learn something that one has never been taught."

In a strange way, that made Draco feel a little better--not a lot, but a little. It still hurt that his dad had not loved him, but it made him feel better to know that maybe it wasn't his fault, after all. Draco had always secretly thought that maybe if he was smarter or stronger or better at Quidditch and magic, then his father would like him better. But if Lucius had been incapable of loving anyone, then it wasn't Draco's fault that his father hadn't loved him. It wasn't because he had been a bad son.

"Not to belittle your pain, Draco," Diggory continued, "but in a way, you are lucky. Because you have one parent who loves you. Narcissa loves you with all her heart, enough to die for you. Or kill for you." Draco shivered at that reminder that she had killed his father. Diggory gently stroked his hair and said softly, "She saved you from your father's fate, Draco. Not just from being killed or becoming a Death Eater, but from the kind of cold, loveless childhood that your father endured. Just as my parents saved me, and Lupin's parents saved him, from becoming monsters in spirit as well as body. Because they loved us."

Draco just wept for a long time, letting Diggory hold him and gently rock him back and forth, as if he were a child, as his father had never done, although his mother used to hold him that way when he was a little boy. "Why?" Draco sniffled, when the tears had slowed to a trickle. "If you love my mother, then why are you willing to give her up?"

"It is because I love her that I can give her up if I must," Diggory replied. "Because her happiness--and yours--matter more to me than my own."

"Me?" Draco asked, lifting his head from Diggory's chest to give him a startled look. "You...care about me? Even after all those rotten things I said about you? Even after I made you break up with my mother?"

The werewolf smiled at him tenderly, and gently stroked his cheek. For a moment, Draco was so stunned that he forgot to breathe, because that was the same way that the Weasleys looked at their children, the same way that Lupin always looked at Dylan and Theo. "How can I not care for my mate's son?" Diggory asked.

"Your...mate?" Draco asked, still feeling dazed.

Diggory nodded. "The wolf has recognized Narcissa as its mate," he said. "Even if your mother and I go our separate ways and I never see her again, I will always love her." He paused for a moment, then added, "And you."

Draco found himself blinking back tears again. "You...you said that you wanted my mum to be happy, even if that meant giving her up," he said hesitantly. "But...I...I don't think she's been very happy without you." He still couldn't quite bring himself to give them permission to marry, though.

But Diggory seemed to understand the reasons behind his hesitation. "It's all right to love your father and miss him, Draco."

"Even if he didn't love me?" Draco asked bitterly. "Even if he was an evil bastard who would sacrifice his own son to save his life?"

"Even so," Diggory replied. "My father was not a Death Eater, but...he still did some things that people might call evil. He did most of those things for my sake, to protect me and try to find a cure for my lycanthropy. I do not approve of what he did, but neither can I hate him for it. I will always love him, no matter what he did."

"That's different," Draco said, a bit sullenly. "He did those things to help you."

"Even if it had been for a less selfless reason, even if he had been a Death Eater, I would still have loved him," Diggory said in a quiet but passionate voice, filled with a certainty that left no room for doubt. "Because he was my father. I won't try to take your father's place, Draco." The werewolf smiled at him hesitantly. "But...perhaps I could be your friend?"

Perversely, Draco found himself disappointed by Diggory's words. He didn't want the werewolf to take his father's place, but he didn't want Diggory to be just his pal, either. And that was when Draco realized that he'd made his decision. "I don't want you to be my friend," he said firmly.

The hope drained out of the werewolf's yellow-green eyes, to be replaced by despair and resignation. "I understand," Diggory said in a hollow voice.

"I expect you to do more than just chum around with me and my family," Draco continued. "I expect you to behave like a proper Lord and take responsibility for your actions. I won't have my mother disgraced by bearing a child out of wedlock, so you had best trot on back to the hospital wing and ask for her hand in marriage."

Diggory's face lit up with joy, and he flung his arms around Draco and hugged him so hard that Draco thought his ribs would break. "Thank you, Draco, thank you so much!" he exclaimed. 

"You're welcome," Draco gasped. "But...er...that hurts a bit, and it's getting kind of hard to breathe..."

"Oh, sorry!" Diggory said, and immediately released Draco, then hugged him a little more gently.

Draco hugged him back, feeling a little embarrassed but very happy. He felt a sense of relief at having let go of his hatred and no longer having to feel guilty about keeping Narcissa and Diggory apart. "So...er...what am I supposed to call you? After you and Mum are married, I mean."

Diggory smiled and said lightly, "Well, everyone in my pack calls me 'Lukas'. My aunt and Lady Selima call me 'Cyril'. Or you could be like Snape and just refer to me as 'the werewolf,' but that might get a little confusing when Lupin is around." In a more serious voice, he said, "I don't expect you to call me 'Dad' or 'Father'."

"But...I could if I wanted to?" Draco asked shyly.

Diggory's eyes filled with tears, and he reached out to gently touch Draco's cheek again. "Yes, of course," he said softly. "I would be honored if you did."

"I don't know if I'll feel comfortable with that," Draco admitted. "At least, not right away. But...I'm glad to know that I can, if I want to."

Diggory smiled at him warmly. "You can call me whatever you feel comfortable with, Draco."

"Would 'Stepfather' be okay?" Draco asked. It seemed like a good compromise to Draco; he liked being able to say the word "father," but prefacing it with "Step" removed some of the discomfort he felt about calling Diggory by the same name he had called his real father.

"So long as you don't preface it with 'Wicked'!" Diggory laughed.

"So, let's get back to the hospital wing...Stepfather," Draco said, trying the word out on his tongue. It felt a little weird, but good at the same time. "That baby isn't getting any younger, you know. We'll have to hold the wedding before Mum is too big to fit into a wedding gown."

"There's one more thing that you should know before I propose to your mother," Diggory said, his face turning serious again. "I have an obligation to my pack, especially to Aric, since I'm the one who turned him..."

Draco made a face. "Yeah, I know. His family's disowned him, so I guess that means he'll be living with you, or rather, with us." But the idea didn't really bother Draco as much as he pretended that it did. "Guess this means that I'm getting a wicked stepbrother along with my stepfather," he said with a grin. "Sort of a package deal."

Diggory smiled at him in relief. "Well, actually, he's planning to move in with a friend after graduation, but he'll probably stop by to visit frequently, and of course there's the rest of the pack to think of. I know it will be a big adjustment for you and your mother. I plan to move some of my pack into the Diggory mansion, but of course I won't bring them to Malfoy Manor without your permission. I think having a pack of wolves around would probably be too overwhelming for Narcissa, anyway. It's probably better to introduce them to her gradually."

Draco thought about it, then shrugged. "Well, the Manor's too big and empty for just me and my mum, anyway. It might be nice to have a few more people around. Although you're probably right about doing it gradually."

"Narcissa mentioned once that she was having trouble keeping up the house by herself," Diggory mused. "The werewolves could help with the cooking and cleaning." He added sternly, "Although they won't be your servants. But everyone in the pack helps out with the chores around the house."

Draco grinned. "Mum's already sharing in the chores. She's taken up cooking, you know."

"Really?!" Diggory exclaimed. "Is it edible?"

Draco laughed. "Mostly."

Diggory shook his head, muttering, "Narcissa cooking. Well, I'll be damned."

"Almost as shocking as the idea of her marrying a werewolf, isn't it?" Draco asked. "Speaking of which, we're making all these plans and you haven't even asked her to marry you yet."

"Well then, let's remedy that, shall we?" Diggory said, and they headed back to the hospital wing together.

Aileen was comforting a tearful (and now fully-dressed) Narcissa, whose expression suddenly turned hopeful when Diggory and Draco walked into the room, both smiling. Diggory dropped to one knee, took Narcissa's hand in his, and said, a bit awkwardly, "I'm sorry that I'm not properly prepared for this. I don't even have a ring, but..."

"Oh, will you just get on with it?" Draco snapped impatiently. "We can take care of all that stuff later!"

The werewolf grinned at him, then turned back to Narcissa. "Narcissa Black Malfoy, will you grant me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Narcissa hesitated for just a moment, glancing over at Draco, who smiled and nodded. Then she knelt down beside Diggory and flung her arms around him, crying, "Of course I will, Lukas!"

Everyone in the room applauded, even Snape, who smiled very faintly. The others weren't nearly so reserved. When the happy couple finally stopped embracing, Lupin flung his arms around them and said, "I'm so happy for the both of you!"

"Congratulations," Pomfrey said warmly, although she did shoot a stern glance Diggory's way that seemed to say that it was just as well that he had finally stepped up to do his duty.

"Congratulations!" Damien said, shaking Diggory's hand and then Narcissa's. "I had no idea that you two were an item! But it seems like Mum did..."

Everyone turned to look at Aileen, who was smiling very smugly. "You arranged all this, didn't you?" Narcissa asked accusingly. 

"I never broke my promise," Aileen said calmly. "I promised that I wouldn't say anything about your pregnancy to Master Diggory, and I didn't. I never spoke a word to him."

"No," Snape said, looking amused. "You merely showed him."

"Very sneaky of you, Mum," Damien said in an admiring tone of voice.

"Very Slytherin," Lupin agreed with a grin.

Narcissa glared at her friend for a moment longer, then laughed and embraced her. "Well, thank Merlin for that, then! Thank you for always being such a good friend to me. You will be my matron of honor, won't you?"

"I would have been insulted if you hadn't asked," Aileen laughed.

There was much more hugging and laughing and congratulating, but when it finally died down, Diggory's expression turned more serious. "I come with more than a few complications, I'm afraid," he told Narcissa solemnly.

"I know," she replied. "I know that you have a responsibility to your pack, and to the Dietrich boy--"

"Aric," Diggory said.

"To Aric, since you turned him," Narcissa continued. "I won't say that the idea isn't a little intimidating, but as in-laws go, I suppose it could be worse. You never met my aunt, my cousin Sirius's mother. She was a horrible old harridan."

"Her portrait still is," Snape said dryly.

"I'll do my best to make them feel welcome in my...in our house," Narcissa said. "They probably won't be too happy about you marrying a pureblood snob, but--"

"You are my mate," Diggory said, lifting her fingertips to his mouth and kissing them. "They will accept you. Things are pretty simple when you're a wolf: you are either pack or not-pack. And the fact that you are my mate and are bearing my child automatically makes you pack."

Narcissa didn't look entirely convinced, but Lupin assured her, "They will love you, once they see how happy you make Lukas." 

"Indeed," Diggory said softly, kissing her hand again. "And I have never been so happy as I am now." They stared into each other's eyes, looking completely besotted. It was a little strange to see his mother and his teacher billing and cooing like infatuated teenagers, but Draco felt no anger this time. Instead, he found himself feeling glad that his mother was happy. He didn't think that he had ever seen her look so happy before, even when his father had still been alive and the Malfoys were at the height of their power.

After a very long while, Diggory finally remembered that he was supposed to be listing his "complications," and continued, "And there are, of course, the monthly transformations."

Narcissa held her head high, looking every inch the proud pureblood Lady. "I am not afraid. I have seen the true face of Voldemort. I have watched him torture people to death. A werewolf's transformation is nothing compared to that. I am not afraid to be with my husband during the full moon, or my son, if he should turn out to be a werewolf also."

Diggory smiled, looking relieved. "Then there is just one last thing. I have a son now, but I promised Gwendolyn that I would make Tristan my heir, and I cannot break that promise. The title and the bulk of the estate must go to Tristan, but I will make sure that our son is well-cared for. I will set aside some money and property for him; he will not be left penniless."

Narcissa did not look happy about this, but she said, "I understand."

Draco said, a little indignantly, "There is still plenty of money in the Malfoy coffers, despite our disgrace. The child may not be a Malfoy, but he will still be my brother, and surely you cannot think that I would let my little brother want for anything."

Diggory and Narcissa stared at him in delighted surprise, then Narcissa came over and hugged him, whispering, "Thank you, Draco," as tears of joy ran down her face, and then Diggory wrapped his arms around both of them. Draco had to blink hard to keep from crying himself.

When they finally separated, Aileen and Lupin eagerly began discussing plans for the wedding with Narcissa; Lupin seemed to think that it would be a fine idea for them to get married on the school grounds. Snape looked bored, while Diggory just stood there with a silly grin on his face, obviously overjoyed that Narcissa wanted to marry him, period, and not caring where the wedding would take place. Meanwhile, Draco finally began giving serious thought to his own future plans. 

"I thank you for trying to arrange an apprenticeship for me, sir," he told Snape. "But I've decided to turn down the offers from your colleagues in America and Japan. I'm going to accept the position that Cassidy Sinclair offered me. I want to remain in England and be near my family. I would hate to miss seeing my little brother grow up."

Snape frowned. "Are you sure, Draco? I can understand that you want to stay in England, but you're such a talented Potions student. I hate to see you waste your talent building toys for Sinclair."

Draco felt flattered rather than offended. It was a compliment, in a way, that Snape thought he had talent to waste. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Professor, but I've made up my mind. I think there are a lot worse things I could do than build toys that make people happy." He thought of what things might have been like if he had become a Death Eater, if Voldemort had won the war, and he shuddered. Yes, things could definitely be worse.

From the suddenly grim expression on Snape's face, the same thought must have occurred to him. "Very well then, Draco, if that's what you really want. But if you ever change your mind, I'll help you find another job."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said, then smiled as he looked over at his mother. "Actually, I think I might enjoy building toys that my little brother can play with. Maybe I can even put my Potions talent to use and create a Young Potions Master's Kit." He laughed as Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head. "And you know, Sinclair doesn't just build toys. That recording sphere is a very useful device. I think it could be used for something more than just recording Quidditch matches--to record lectures for students who've missed class, for one thing."

"I hardly want to encourage the students to skip class, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said sourly.

"Or to communicate with your colleagues in other countries," Draco continued. "It's difficult to collaborate long-distance, isn't it? You can exchange letters with your fellow Potions Masters, but that's not the same as actually watching someone brew a potion, is it? But with the sphere, they could record their actions, and you could see exactly how they brewed the potion, right down to all the subtle nuances, including exactly how many times and how fast they stirred."

"Your idea has merit, Draco," Snape said thoughtfully. "Perhaps it won't be a waste for you to work for that Gryffindor, after all."

Meanwhile, Diggory had been drawn into the wedding plans. "Draco," he called, motioning for him to come over. "Will you be my best man?"

"Really?" Draco asked eagerly. "You wouldn't rather ask one of your werewolves to do it?"

Diggory shook his head. "We're going to become a family, Draco. What better way to start off than to have my stepson by my side?"

"Then I'd be honored," Draco said, and allowed himself to drawn into the discussion, too. He nodded and agreed with whatever the others suggested without really hearing what they were saying; for all he knew they could be suggesting that he strip naked and paint himself red and gold for the ceremony. He was floating in a cloud of euphoria, hardly daring to believe that he finally had the family he had always dreamed of, feeling for the first time loved by both his mother and his father, and eagerly looking forward to the birth of the little brother that he had never imagined.

*** 

Lukas didn't know exactly how it had happened, but he suddenly found himself preparing to get married on the following day. Lupin suggested that they hold the wedding at the school, and when they asked the Headmaster for permission, the old man was delighted, and said that they should get married tomorrow, the last day of school, so that all the students and faculty could join in the celebration.

"You are beloved by your students, my boy," Dumbledore told him.

Lukas was delighted that he was going to be able to marry Narcissa, but he felt he was getting in a little over his head. "Well, yes, but...the entire school? I thought maybe a small, private ceremony, with just a few family and friends..."

"You have many more friends than you realize, Lukas," the Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"But there's no way we could possibly get everything ready in just one day!" Lukas protested.

"It's not a bad idea," Aileen mused. "We could have a simple ceremony at the school, and a formal reception a week or two later." She regarded Narcissa's stomach with a critical eye. "We do need to hold the wedding soon, dear, so there's no time like the present. You won't be able to hide your pregnancy with loose robes for much longer."

"It's not like the gossips won't be able to count the months between the wedding and the birth," Narcissa pointed out, but she too seemed to be getting caught up in the excitement. "But I would like to marry you as soon as possible, my love," she added, smiling at Lukas. "It doesn't matter if we do it 'properly' or not, since I have already been disgraced in the eyes of the purebloods. All that matters is that the people I care about will be there to witness our vows. I'm sure Sirius will come even if it's on short notice, and Aileen will be here--and so will Draco, Remus, Severus, and Professor Blackmore, obviously. Oh, and Harry, of course. Do you think that Gwendolyn and your pack will be able to make it?"

"I'll talk to them," Lukas promised. "If not, we may have to get married twice."

"I will marry you as many times as you like, my love!" Narcissa laughed, her green eyes sparkling merrily. She looked so beautiful that Lukas couldn't resist kissing her. He glanced over at Draco, but the boy really did seem to have let go of all his resentment. He was smiling, looking perfectly content. Lukas was touched by how proud and happy Draco had been when he had asked his future stepson to be his best man, and he was very glad that he had made the offer.

"It is true that it is impossible to arrange a wedding on such short notice," Snape drawled in his low, sardonic voice. "Especially when it looks like this 'simple ceremony' is rapidly growing in size and complexity. However, if there is anyone who can accomplish the impossible, it would be Lady Selima. Not to mention that she would kill you if you dared to get married without inviting her, Diggory."

"Oh!" Lukas said sheepishly. "I nearly forgot! Of course I would want your mother here, Severus, after all she's done for me." Much of her help had been unwanted and unasked for, of course, but he was grateful for it nevertheless.

"I've no doubt that she'll insist on having a very proper and formal reception later, though," Snape said. "With all the pureblood guests that showed up at your Easter party."

Lukas was so happy that even that thought didn't dismay him--at least, not too much. "I'll survive."

"It will be my mother's moment of triumph," Snape continued. "She has succeeded in her seemingly impossible goal of making you a Lord, and even though those pureblood snobs will be outwardly sneering at you and Narcissa, they'll respect her for it. She's pulled off a miracle, and they'll be in awe of her. So perhaps she'll forgive you for getting married on short notice. And she'll be happy that you have taken a bride from an old and respected pureblood family."

"We'd better call Lady Selima now, then," Lupin suggested. "Before she scolds us for wasting more time."

They contacted Selima through the Floo, and predictably, she chewed them out for the extremely short notice. Snape just nodded meekly throughout her tirade, but Lukas tried to argue, "But we don't need anything fancy. It's enough for us to just say our vows in front of our friends and family."

He should have known better than to argue with a Snape. "That will just not do!" Selima said indignantly, stamping her foot on the ground. "You will wed in a manner befitting your rank, so you do not shame your parents! What would poor Anya say if I let you get married like a penniless nobody?"

Poor Anya could say nothing since she was dead, but this time Lukas wisely chose to remain silent. He knew what Selima meant, and he did appreciate her loyalty to the memory of his parents, although he wished that someone else could be the object of her wrath.

"And of course your bride is a daughter of one of the oldest families in the wizarding world, and you must show her proper honor!" Selima said, continuing her rant.

Lukas nodded, following Snape's lead. "Yes, Lady Selima."

Dumbledore finally came to his rescue a few minutes later. "Ah, excuse me, Selima," he said politely. "I don't mean to interrupt, but perhaps you could scold him later? We have only one day to prepare, as you pointed out, and, well, the clock is ticking..."

Selima abruptly stopped in mid-rant. "You're right, Headmaster," she said briskly. "There is the florist to be contacted, and we'll need a cake--"

"The Hogwarts elves can handle all the food preparations," Dumbledore promised.

"Well, that is a slight help," Selima grudgingly conceded. "And robes for the wedding party--"

"I can help Narcissa find a dress," Aileen offered. 

"The two of you come with me," Selima ordered the women. She glared at Lukas. "In the meantime, you can at least get yourself down to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley and pick up the engagement ring and wedding bands. Something tasteful and--"

"Befitting of my rank and my bride's honor," Lukas finished in a resigned voice. "Yes, Lady Selima." 

But there was something even more important that he needed to take care of first. He went to the Hufflepuff dorm to find Tristan and speak to him in private.

"You and Draco's mother?" Tristan said, staring at him shock.

"Yes, I know it's a bit of a shock," Lukas said, smiling sheepishly. "And I know that the Malfoys have a bad reputation, but remember what you learned from the R.A. disaster..."

"Yes, sir," Tristan said, flushing. "Not to judge people without knowing them."

"Maybe once that reputation was deserved," Lukas said. "But people can change. I never met Narcissa or Draco before the war ended; I only know them as they are now."

"Yes, people can change," Tristan said softly. "Uncle Amos changed into someone I don't recognize. So if you say that Lady Malfoy has changed for the better, then I'll believe you. And I'll try to be happy for you, and not judge her until I get to know her." Then he couldn't hold back an irritated little sigh. "But you do realize that Draco will be my cousin once you get married!"

Lukas laughed and gave his young cousin a consoling pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure that Draco will be just as chagrined, if it makes you feel any better! Perhaps, if nothing else, you can pick up some Quidditch tips from him."

Tristan snorted and said, "As if I need any help from Malfoy!" But there was humor mixed in with the disdain in his voice.

"I want you to know that I haven't forgotten the promise that I made to you and your parents," Lukas said, suddenly turning serious. "You will remain the heir to the Diggory family."

"But what about your son?" Tristan asked uncertainly. "Shouldn't he be the heir, if you are Lord?"

Lukas smiled and patted him on the shoulder again. "Don't worry about that, Tristan. My son will be provided for. I will set aside a small inheritance for him, and Draco has promised to look after his younger brother as well."

Tristan looked shocked to hear that. "Oh! I guess that Draco really has changed!"

"So," Lukas said cheerfully, changing the subject. "Will you stand with me as one of my groomsmen?"

"Me?" Tristan asked, looking startled and flattered. "You wouldn't rather have someone more...er...grown-up, like Professor Lupin or your werewolf friends?"

"I'll ask one or two friends to stand with me," Lukas replied. "But it's important to me to have my family with me as well."

"Then yes, sir!" Tristan said proudly. "I would be honored!"

Lukas left, feeling relieved that Tristan seemed to have taken the news pretty well, then headed to the Slytherin dorm in search of Aric.

"I heard," Aric said, when Lukas found him. "Damien's already blabbed it to all of Slytherin, and I'm sure that pretty soon the whole school will know. Congratulations. I didn't think Narcissa was your type, but if that's what you want, then I'm happy for you."

He was smiling, but Lukas recognized a mask when he saw one; his eyes looked distant and guarded, and his words sounded carefully rehearsed. Lukas cuffed the boy sharply on the ear.

"Ow!" Aric exclaimed indignantly. "What was that for? I wasn't fighting with anyone, and I thought you only do that when you're a wolf!"

"That's for being an idiot," Lukas growled. "I know what you were thinking: that I won't love you as much now that I have a son of my blood, that I won't have time for you when the baby is born." Aric flushed guiltily and stared at Lukas with anxious eyes, confirming his guess. "Idiot," Lukas said gruffly, and hugged the boy. "I love all my wolves, but you are special to me, because I made you, in a sense. That makes you my first-born cub."

Aric hugged him back tightly, pressing his face against Lukas's shoulder, and Lukas heard a muffled sniffle but pretended not to notice; the Slytherin boys--well, all teenage boys, to be honest--were a bit touchy about their pride, and tended to think that it was unmanly to weep. Finally Aric loosened his grip slightly and lifted his face; his eyes were bright and a little glassy, but he managed to keep the tears in check. And if there were a few damp spots on Lukas's robe, again he pretended not to notice.

"Sorry, Master Dig--I mean, Lukas," Aric said, giving him a real smile this time. "I was being a git. I know you wouldn't just forget about me. You risked your freedom to save me; I know you could have been sent to Azkaban for biting me."

"I'm not sure that I would have done it for just anyone," Lukas admitted, then hugged the boy again. "I was always fond of you, for some reason, even when you were a spoiled pureblood brat."

Aric laughed, and this time a couple of tears did escape and slide down his cheeks. He quickly swiped them away with his hand and said, "I guess it might be kind of nice to have a little brother."

"You'll be a good brother," Lukas said, smiling at him tenderly. "You were very good with Max and the twins."

Aric laughed again. "Just what I need, another kid chewing on my tail!"

"Speaking of brothers," Lukas said with a grin, "you do realize that Draco will be your stepbrother?"

Aric groaned, but he didn't really look all that perturbed. Then his lips pulled back in a feral grin, exposing canine teeth that were just beginning to lengthen. He probably wasn't consciously aware of it, but he was definitely beginning to develop a wolfish look. 

"If Malfoy gets out of line, I'll just bite him!" Aric joked.

Lukas threw an arm around the boy's shoulders and said, "Seriously, Aric, will you stand with me tomorrow as a groomsman?"

"Of course!" Aric said, beaming at him proudly and standing up a little straighter. He gave Lukas a hug and said, "Congratulations; I mean it this time. I'll be honored to stand with you at your wedding."

Lukas smiled, feeling touched and amused when he thought about how far they had come since the first day of class, when Aric had sneered in contempt at his werewolf teacher. And this time it was his turn to brush a few tears from his eyes.

*** 

The school was soon abuzz with gossip about the upcoming wedding. Everyone was shocked to learn that Master Diggory and Narcissa Malfoy were lovers, but predictably, the girls all thought it was very romantic, and it was the main topic of conversation during lunch in the Great Hall.

"A secret romance!" Pansy sighed. "That's so romantic!"

"It's like one of Ariel Zoltaire's novels!" Yvonne declared, and Blaise nearly choked on his food as Theodore snickered.

"You have no idea," he muttered under his breath. Aric, with his newly-sensitive werewolf hearing, gave his cousin a puzzled look.

For once, Draco found himself the center of attention, as the other students all wanted to know how his mother and his teacher had met, and how long they had been seeing each other. He actually knew only a little more than they did, but that didn't stop him from enjoying all the attention and holding court over a spellbound table of students.

"It all started at the Yule Ball," he said dramatically.

"Oh yes, I remember, they were dancing together!" Pansy exclaimed. "They really did look good together, but they started fighting, and your mother stormed out of the room."

"But Master Diggory followed her," Millicent said thoughtfully.

"Remember how Professor Snape and Professor Lupin used to fight all the time?" Yvonne asked excitedly. "But they really loved each over! We should have guessed that your mother was Master Diggory's secret lover, Draco! It's so obvious when you think about it!"

"So what happened next, Draco?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"Well, I don't know all the details, but apparently they went for a walk in the rose garden..."

"Oh, that's so romantic!" the three girls squealed in unison.

When Hermione came over to the Slytherin table, at first Dylan thought that she had just come to offer Draco her congratulations about the wedding. But then he noticed that she was carrying a set of red-and-gold robes, and that she was followed by a giggling Luna, who was wearing the huge lion's head hat that she used to wear to the Gryffindor Quidditch matches. And then he recalled a certain bet they had made during Lady Selima's Easter party...

"Why hello, Hermione, Luna," he said with a nervous smile. "Come to congratulate Draco about the wedding? It's wonderful news, isn't it?"

"It is," Hermione agreed. "And congratulations to you and your mother, Draco. I'm sure that she and Master Diggory will be very happy together. But that isn't why I've come."

"Why have you come, then?" asked Draco, who knew nothing of the bet.

"To make Dylan keep his promise," Hermione replied with a smug smile.

"Promise?" Dylan asked, feigning a bewildered look.

"The promise you made at Lady Selima's party," Hermione said firmly. "You said that if Aric and Theodore ever became friends, you would run around the school in Gryffindor robes and Luna's lion hat."

"Did I really say that?" Dylan asked weakly.

"Yes, you did," Hermione said mercilessly. "And if I'm not mistaken, Aric and Theodore have been very friendly lately. Don't you agree, Theodore?"

Theodore grinned wickedly at his foster brother, who was staring at him with pleading eyes. "So what do you think, Aric? Are we friends?" 

Aric glanced at the red-and-gold robes, then at Luna's hat, which opened its mouth and roared. "Oh, sure," he replied casually. "Best buddies." He slung an arm around his cousin's shoulders and they both grinned at Dylan.

"Thanks a lot, you two," Dylan said sarcastically, glaring at the duo.

"Anytime," Aric said airily.

"Are you a man of your word or not, Dylan Rosier?" Hermione demanded.

"Oh, very well," Dylan sighed, giving in to the inevitable. He took off his robe and draped it over his chair, saying, "I guess I should be glad that I didn't say I'd run around the school naked!"

"Now that I would have liked to have seen!" Millicent purred, and the other Slytherin girls giggled. 

Hermione glared at them, and then at Dylan, who was grinning rakishly. "Well, that would be one stunt that my father never pulled at Hogwarts!" he laughed.

"You can keep your clothes on, Dylan Rosier!" Hermione said sternly, sounding rather like Professor McGonagall at the moment. "Just put these on over it."

Dylan took the Gryffindor robes and slipped them on over his shirt and trousers. They appeared to be a set of Quidditch robes, rather than the regular Hogwarts uniform, which was mostly black except for the House crest stitched across the breast. Hermione was obviously going for the dramatic.

"It's Harry's Quidditch uniform," Luna informed him helpfully. Dylan glanced over at the Gryffindor table, and saw Harry and his friends grinning and laughing.

Dylan sighed, then decided that since he was stuck with carrying out the bet, he might as well play it up for all it was worth. Instead of just throwing on the robe like a loose cloak or jacket, he made sure to fasten it up and made a show of adjusting it so that it draped over his body in a flattering way. Not bad; he and Harry were nearly the same height, so it fit pretty well. Then he took off the clasp that held his hair back, letting it spill loose across his shoulders, then tossed his head back, and the girls at the Slytherin table--and the girls at the other tables as well--all let out a collective sigh.

"Oh, he looks so much better in those robes than Potter does," Yvonne sighed.

Dylan conjured up a mirror that floated in midair, and admired his reflection for a moment. Like most Slytherins, he regarded the Gryffindor colors of red and gold as gaudy and slightly distasteful, but his fair skin and black hair contrasted with the red and gold to nice effect. He decided that they looked more dramatic than gaudy, at least on him. He made a show of adjusting the robes slightly and brushing an imaginary speck of lint off his sleeve.

"Oh, stop preening!" Hermione snapped. "You're starting to remind me of Professor Lockhart!" But she was blushing just a little, and Dylan grinned; Hermione must think that he looked good in the robes, too. And the Gryffindor boys had stopped laughing.

Dylan dispelled the mirror with a snap of his fingers and said haughtily, "Don't be silly. I'm much better looking than Lockhart is. Luna--hat." Luna grinned, took off the hat, and held it out to him. He took it and firmly placed it on his head as the lion head roared again. "Well, here I go," he said cheerfully, and took off running. The students all began cheering and clapping, and a number of them jumped up and followed him as he ran out of the Hall.

*** 

The teachers stared in varying degrees of amazement and amusement as they watched from the head table. "Disgraceful!" Filch said. "Running around the school like a bunch of hooligans! You should give them all detention, Headmaster!"

"Now, now," Dumbledore said indulgently. "School is nearly over. A bit of high spirits from the students is to be expected. What do you say, Severus? Your student seems to be at the center of things."

"I would say that the fault lies mainly with Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Clearly she put him up to it."

"Now, that's hardly fair, Severus," McGonagall said, trying to look indignant, but she was clearly trying not to laugh. "Miss Granger gave him the robes, but Mr. Rosier is the one running through the halls--with half the school following him."

"There seem to be an approximately equal number of students from each House running through the halls right now," Branwen observed. "So if we were going to deduct points, we would have to deduct the same amount from each House, which seems rather pointless, no pun intended, since it wouldn't affect the House Cup standings."

"It's the principle of the thing," Filch argued.

"Well, Mr. Rosier has been remarkably well-behaved for the past four years," Snape said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Considering who his father is, I would say that he has shown considerable restraint in managing to stay out of trouble up until now. So perhaps we could overlook this incident, just this once."

Lupin chuckled. "He ought to have a few stories to tell his children and grandchildren someday. How boring it would be if he did nothing but study and stay out of trouble."

"He really does look good in red and gold," Sinistra said musingly, then laughed at the expression on Snape's face. "Oh, don't glare at me like that, Severus. I'm not planning to rob the cradle; I was just making an observation."

"I wonder what he, or Evan for that matter, would have been like as Gryffindors?" Lupin asked with a grin, and Snape turned his glare on Lupin.

"It's not as bad as the time that James ran through the snow in his underwear when he lost a bet with Sirius," Branwen said with a smile.

"I remember that!" Pomfrey sighed. "The idiot nearly caught pneumonia."

"Well, seeing as how it's the last day of classes, and I doubt that the students are really doing much studying at this point anyway, I see no reason to hand out detention, as long as they return to class on time after the lunch period is over," Dumbledore said. "Lunch is a free period, after all."

Filch heaved a sigh of disappointment and disgust, and the students returned to the Great Hall, red-faced and panting, before the lunch period was over.

Somehow Dylan still managed to look gorgeous even with sweat running down his face, and the girls sighed again. "Have I carried out the terms of our bet to your satisfaction, Hermione?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, you have," she replied, grinning back at him. "And you even managed to do it with style!"

"I do everything with style," Dylan declared. "Like this." And he swept Hermione into his arms, dipped her down low, and kissed her in front of everyone in the Great Hall. The lion hat roared approvingly, and the students laughed and cheered, although more than a few of the girls also sighed wistfully.

"Yes, he certainly does take after his father," Branwen said nostalgically.

Filch pointed at Dylan and Hermione, a look of outrage on his face. "Improper displays of public affection! Surely you have to do something about that, Headmaster!"

"Indeed I do," Dumbledore said sternly, then raised his voice. "Mr. Rosier, Miss Granger!"

Dylan and Hermione straightened up and separated, Dylan grinning unrepentantly, and Hermione blushing furiously. "Yes, Headmaster?" Dylan said cheerfully.

"Five points to Slytherin for your style," Dumbledore said with a wink. The students cheered again, and Filch slumped back in his chair with a loud groan, shaking his head.

*** 

The next morning, a nervous Lukas prepared for his wedding. He had dressed in the green velvet robes that Lady Selima had given him for Christmas, tied back his hair with a matching green velvet ribbon, and was staring in the mirror, adjusting his father's gold snake-headed torc around his neck, when Lupin said soothingly for fifth or sixth time, "Everything will be fine, Lukas. There's nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say," Lukas grumbled. "You're not the one getting married."

"It will be perfect; Lady Selima will see to that," Lupin said with a smile.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Lukas said gloomily. "That Selima will kill me if I mess up her vision of perfection."

Lupin laughed. "It's your wedding, not hers, Lukas."

"Tell that to Lady Selima," Lukas said dryly. "All right, I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Do you have the rings?" Lupin asked.

Lukas nodded, slipping his hand into his pocket just to reassure himself that they were there. His fingers touched cool metal--the simple but elegant and expensive gold-and-platinum bands he had purchased in Hogsmeade. He had already given Narcissa her engagement ring yesterday. Her engagement ring from Lucius was set with a huge diamond that could have fed Lukas's pack for a year, so rather than try to outdo his bride's first husband, Lukas had decided on an emerald encircled by tiny diamond chips, because he had noticed that Narcissa often wore emerald-and-silver jewelry. However, he knew that Selima would consider sterling silver "beneath" Narcissa's rank and his own, so he had the emerald set in platinum instead. 

All this added up to an outrageous amount, but the jeweler had been more than happy to extend credit to the new Lord of the Diggory estate. Other people in the village had also treated him with a new respect that they had never shown him when he had been a penniless werewolf, which made him feel uneasy and a little bitter. But he didn't want bitter thoughts to spoil the happiness of the occasion, so he tried to forget his misgivings, at least for now. He reminded himself that Narcissa had seemed genuinely pleased with the emerald ring, which cheered him up slightly.

Selima had indeed pulled off the impossible, with the help of Dumbledore and the Hogwarts elves. There was a little pavilion set up in the castle courtyard, a simple cloth canopy (Slytherin green) held up by a few poles, but with green ribbons wrapped around the poles and flowers hanging from the canopy, it looked properly festive. Students, faculty, and guests were either gathered in the courtyard to witness the ceremony, or were watching from the castle windows.

"Maybe you should have had the wedding on the Quidditch Pitch," Lupin whispered to Lukas, grinning mischievously.

"I suppose we could have sold tickets to it as well," Lukas replied sarcastically.

"I've no doubt that there are people who would pay to witness this wedding," Lupin said cheerfully. "I wouldn't be surprised if Rita Skeeter and her photographer had managed to sneak inside the school somehow."

"Oh, please don't say that!" Lukas groaned.

A beaming Arthur Weasley, who had happily volunteered to conduct the ceremony, was waiting beneath the canopy for them, along with Lukas's groomsmen. Selima had insisted upon symmetry, so since Narcissa had chosen five attendants (Aileen, Delia Avery, Gwendolyn, Branwen, and Selima herself), Lukas needed five attendants as well. So in addition to Draco, Tristan, and Aric, Lukas had asked Lupin and Ash to stand with him. 

Since there was no time to order custom-made robes, it had been decided that all the attendants would wear simple black dress robes--slightly morbid by normal standards, but acceptable for a Slytherin wedding. Everyone but Ash already owned a set of black dress robes, and Lukas had been able to buy new robes for his friend at Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade.

Ash fidgeted nervously, looking uncomfortable in his new robes. "What's the matter, don't they fit?" Lukas asked.

"They fit fine," Ash replied, tugging at his collar. "I'm just not used to wearing fancy clothes. I feel a little silly."

"You look fine," Lupin assured him. "Very handsome, in fact."

"Don't let Snape hear you say that," Lukas cautioned with a wry smile.

"He the jealous type?" Ash asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Lukas replied.

"Oh, he's just a tad possessive," Lupin said casually.

Lukas snorted with amusement. "Possessive enough to be a wolf himself."

Tristan looked a little bemused to hear them joking about the dreaded Potions Master so lightly, while Draco and Aric merely snickered.

"Do you have the rings, Stepfather?" Draco asked, and Tristan's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Yes, Draco," Lukas replied, suppressing a smile, and turned the rings over to his soon-to-be stepson for safekeeping. Originally, Lance was going to be the ring bearer, but when he had learned that his sister Lyra was going to be a flower girl, he had insisted on being one too, never mind that he had no idea what either a ring bearer or flower girl were. But it was easier to give in than to argue with a stubborn six-year-old, so it was decided that the best man would hold the rings. And when he saw how proud Draco looked to be entrusted with them, Lukas was glad that they had made the change.

"Shouldn't the women be here already?" Ash asked, then joked a little nervously, "I hope that your bride hasn't gotten cold feet."

Lukas smiled. His pack was still getting over the shock of learning that his mysterious lover was the very proper and pureblooded Narcissa Malfoy. They might well be worried that Narcissa would come to her senses and think twice about marrying a werewolf, but Lukas had no such fear. His inner wolf growled contentedly; he knew that his mate loved him just as much as he loved her, and he had absolute faith in her.

"Oh, don't worry," Draco said dismissively. "Mum's probably still primping. She takes at least an hour to get ready for parties. And since this isn't just any party, but her wedding, she'll probably take even longer."

"Lovely," Ash muttered.

"But they shouldn't be much longer," Draco added hopefully. "She's been holed up with her bridesmaids for the past two hours." The women had arrived early in the morning and immediately locked themselves up in a room set aside for them by Dumbledore. Selima had informed Lukas in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to see his bride before the ceremony; it was tradition. Of course, it wasn't exactly traditional for a pureblood to be marrying a werewolf, but Lady Selima tended to follow the traditions that suited her and ignore the ones that were inconvenient.

While they were waiting, Lukas looked out at the assembled crowd in the courtyard. Dumbledore and the other teachers were there, of course, including Snape. Standing next to Snape were Theodore and Dylan--and Lupin's new pet dog, Cabal. Dylan was holding the dog's leash, but Cabal was sitting quietly, wagging his tail, and didn't seem inclined to run around. Someone--probably Lupin, or maybe it was one of the Slytherin girls--had draped a wreath of flowers around the dog's neck.

Harry was there with his Gryffindor friends, and Bane was sitting on his shoulder. (Selima had balked at the idea of allowing a raven to participate in the ceremony, so Branwen had left her familiar with Harry.) Bane was also wearing a wreath of flowers, although he looked rather sulky about being separated from his mistress. Tonks was chatting cheerfully with Harry; her presence was proof of how much Narcissa had changed. Her older sister Andromeda had been disowned by the Black family when she married a Muggle-born wizard, and except for Sirius, none of them had ever acknowledged Tonks's existence, let alone invited her to a family function. 

Tonks and Narcissa still had little in common and saw each other only rarely, when their paths happened to cross at Sirius's house. They'd all had dinner together a few times, which Narcissa said had been slightly awkward, but her niece had been cordial to her, when she could have taken revenge by gloating at how far the Malfoys had fallen. So Narcissa had invited Tonks to the wedding, a combination peace offering and apology. There was, after all, not much point in snubbing a half-blood niece when one was about to marry a werewolf and bear his child. 

And mixed in with the crowd of students and teachers were most of his werewolf pack. They grinned and waved when they saw him looking their way. Takeshi smiled and waved as well. Augustus Pye had finally returned from his honeymoon and was more than happy to cover Takeshi's shift at the hospital, and Mr. and Mrs. Kimura had closed up the restaurant for half a day so that they could all attend the ceremony. 

The string quartet that Lady Selima had hired suddenly began playing the wedding march, and a hush fell over the crowd. 

"Is it finally starting?" asked Ash.

"Yes, hurry up and get into place, everyone," Arthur urged.

The groom and his attendants quickly lined themselves up properly as Lyra and Lance made their way down the path from the castle to the canopy, grabbing handfuls of flower petals from the baskets that they carried, and strewing them across the path. They proudly held up their empty baskets when they reached the canopy.

"Did we do good, Uncle Lukas?"

"You did very well," Lukas whispered, giving each of them a pat on the head. 

The bridesmaids and the matron of honor then made their way down the flower-strewn path, walking with slow, measured steps while Lukas tried not to fidget. And then finally his bride walked down the aisle towards him, on the arm of her cousin Sirius, since her father was deceased, and in any case would never have willingly given his daughter to a werewolf even if he had still been alive.

Narcissa was dressed in a simple, sleeveless gown of pale green silk--it would have been too simple and plain for a very formal pureblood wedding, but it was perfect for an outdoor summer ceremony among friends. It had been purchased off the rack at Madam Malkin's yesterday, needing only a few minor alterations, iincluding the addition of a bit of delicate silver lace trim. 

The gown clung to the curves of her breasts, then fell in loose folds to her feet, effectively concealing her pregnancy, although it would not be a secret much longer. Her hair had been done up in some very complicated arrangement that was probably part of the reason why it had taken her so long to get ready. She wore a wreath of white roses on her head in place of a veil, and carried a matching bouquet tied together with silver and green ribbons. Lukas thought she looked beautiful, but all the primping was probably wasted on him, as he would have thought she was beautiful even if she had been dressed in rags.

Sirius placed Narcissa's hand in Lukas's, then smiled, bowed, and retreated into the crowd to stand next to his godson. They had agreed in advance to keep the ceremony short and simple, and Lukas certainly did not intend to tempt fate with the tradition of asking if anyone had just cause to oppose the marriage, so they went straight to the vows. Arthur cleared his throat and recited, "Do you, Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, comfort, and honor her, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Lukas replied in a soft but steady voice, gazing into his bride's eyes.

"Do you, Narcissa Black Malfoy," Arthur continued, "take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, comfort, and honor him, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others so long as you both shall live?" 

The word "love" was often left out of pureblood ceremonies, since the marriages were often arranged ones, and the woman's vow usually read "to honor and obey," but Arthur had sheepishly informed them that Molly had declared that it was an antiquated and offensive tradition. Lukas had merely smiled, because he had the distinct impression that it was usually Arthur who obeyed Molly and not the other way around, even if the Weasleys were purebloods. But he agreed with Molly that the "obey" part should be dropped from the vows; he wanted a wife and partner, not a servant, after all.

"I do," Narcissa said, tears of joy welling in her eyes.

Arthur motioned to Draco, who stepped forward and handed the rings over to Lukas and Narcissa, who then placed the wedding bands on each other's fingers.

"Then with the authority bestowed upon me by the Ministry of Magic, I do hereby pronounce you man and wife." Arthur beamed at Lukas and Narcissa. "You may now kiss the bride." And Lukas kissed his bride as the crowd started cheering and his inner wolf silently howled with joy.

*** 

Everyone returned to the castle for lunch--the Great Hall was bedecked with flowers, and extra tables had been added to accommodate the wedding guests. Narcissa and Lukas, along with their attendants and Robert Ames, Sirius, Arthur, and Molly, were seated at the head table along with the faculty. Strangely, the table didn't seem crowded, as if it had magically expanded in order to accommodate the extra people--or perhaps not so strangely; this was a school of magic, after all. A magnificent feast was laid out, courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves, including a huge, five-tiered wedding cake that required a separate table of its own and looked big enough to feed everyone in the Great Hall and still have a few pieces leftover.

The Headmaster ordered everyone's glasses to be filled--with champagne for the adults and pumpkin juice for the students--then raised his own glass and said a toast to Lukas and Narcissa. "I never imagined when I brought Lukas here as a teacher, that I was also bringing a husband for one of my former students," Dumbledore said.

"You did seat them together at the Yule Ball," Lupin said thoughtfully. "And urge them to dance with each other."

"Mere coincidence," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "However, I am glad if I was able to help facilitate their romance in some small way."

Snape rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Meddling old man."

"So let us all raise our glasses," Dumbledore continued, "and wish Lukas and Narcissa a long and joyous life together!"

A deafening cheer arose in the Great Hall (although the werewolves were a little louder than everyone else). Lukas grinned at his bride, who blushed prettily, and he kissed her, which caused the crowd to cheer again.

"And now, not to take anything away from the happy couple, but I do have a school-related announcement to make," Dumbledore said, when the cheering died down. "Specifically, regarding the House Cup. The total points for each House are as follows: Hufflepuff, three-hundred and fifteen; Ravenclaw, three-hundred and twenty-two; Gryffindor, three-hundred and eighty; and Slytherin, five-hundred and seventy-seven. Which means that Slytherin wins the House Cup this year--thanks in part to the hundred points that Mr. Dietrich earned coming to Master Diggory's aid at the risk of his own life, a truly brave and selfless act. Congratulations, Slytherin!" 

The Slytherins cheered loudly as the green-and-silver Slytherin banners dropped down from the ceiling, and the teachers and most of the students of the other Houses applauded politely, perhaps with more enthusiasm than they would normally have shown, since they were grateful to Aric for saving one of their favorite teachers. However, at the same time, there was a subdued air of shame among the other three Houses, as they were well aware of the reason why they were so far behind Slytherin in points.

"It wasn't even close!" Ron groaned.

"Well, Aric did get one-hundred points for saving Master Diggory; I'm sure that put them over the top," Ginny said. "But it would have been closer if not for you three." She glared at Jack, Andrew, and Dean, who hung their heads. At the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, the other former R.A. members were similarly hanging their heads and looking guilty. 

Suddenly Tristan rose from his seat and marched up to the head table. "Do you have something to say, Mr. Ames-Diggory?" Dumbledore asked in a genial voice.

"Yes, sir," Tristan said in a determined voice. "I wish to state, before all these witnesses, that I hereby renounce all claim to the Diggory title."

"Tristan!" Gwendolyn exclaimed in surprise.

"Tristan, I told you that I would not break the promise I made to your parents--" Lukas started to say.

"I know that, sir," Tristan interrupted. "I'm not asking you to break your promise. I am giving up my claim to the title of my own free will. I never really wanted it in the first place; I was only made heir after Cedric died because there was no one else left to take it. But your father was the rightful heir, not Uncle Amos, which means that you are the rightful Lord and your son should follow in your place."

"But--" Lukas tried to protest.

Tristan said earnestly, "Please let me do this, sir, to help make up for what Uncle Amos and his parents did to you and your father. And I don't want your son to grow up resenting me because I took the title that rightfully belongs to him. I would much rather have my cousin's friendship than the title."

"Perhaps you should discuss this with your parents first," Lukas said, since it was obvious that Tristan had not.

"It doesn't matter," Tristan said stubbornly. "I will refuse the heirship no matter what they say."

Gwendolyn and Robert looked at each other for a moment, then smiled. "I say that I am very proud of my son for doing the right thing," Gwendolyn declared.

"As am I," Robert said. "You have more than proven yourself worthy of the title, Cyril. Let your son be your heir, as he would have been if Amos and his parents had not meddled with the succession."

"Thank you," Lukas said with tears in his eyes, and Narcissa smiled radiantly. Tristan started to return to his seat, but Lukas said, "Wait a moment, Tristan." He leaned over and whispered something to his new bride, who smiled and nodded.

"I too have an announcement to make," Lukas said, rising to his feet. "As many of you already know, my lovely lady wife is carrying my child." Excited whispers rose throughout the room, among the people who had not known. "Although it's a little early, I do hereby declare that he shall be named Cedric Drake Diggory."

A look of incredulous joy filled Tristan's face. "Are you sure, sir?" he asked anxiously. "I thought maybe you'd want to name him after your father."

"It's an old and honored family name," Lukas replied, smiling warmly. "I am sure that my father would be pleased."

"Thank you, sir," Tristan said, and returned to the Hufflepuff table weeping a little. 

At the head table, Gwendolyn also wept, and flung her arms around her nephew and whispered, "Thank you, Cyril."

"You did the right thing, Lukas," Lupin said softly, glancing over at the Slytherin table, where Draco was grinning proudly from ear to ear, while Goyle and Crabbe thumped him on the back in congratulations.

"You're going to be a big brother, Draco! That's so cool!"

"And he'll be named after you, too! Although maybe his name should be 'Drake Cedric' instead, don't you think?"

Draco just laughed, and Lukas grinned and said, "Well, as a matter of fact, the first Diggory Lord was named 'Cedric,' so it's become a tradition to give the heirs names starting with 'C'."

"Ah, that's why your real name is 'Cyril' and your father's name was 'Cynric'!" Crabbe exclaimed. "And Amos wasn't supposed to be the heir, so that's why his name doesn't start with a 'C'."

"Well, okay, but we can still call him 'Drake' as a nickname, can't we?" Goyle asked.

"Of course," Lukas laughed.

"Well then," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily behind his half-moon glasses, "let us also say a toast to Cedric Drake, the future Diggory heir!"

"To Cedric Drake!" the crowd shouted.

"Now let the feast begin!" Dumbledore declared, and everyone cheered again.

The students and guests enjoyed a fine meal, and there was indeed more than enough cake to feed everyone in the Great Hall, with the smallest top layer left untouched for Lukas and Narcissa to take home with them. After everyone was finished eating, Lady Selima called for all the single women and girls to come up to the front of the room for the bouquet toss. 

Most of the older girls rushed up, giggling, while the shyer ones hung back a little. Narcissa turned her back to the crowd and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. A number of sixth and seventh-year girls, including Pansy, Yvonne, Lavender, Parvati, and Padma, all eagerly reached for it with excited shrieks and squeals, but it sailed right over their heads, and landed in the arms of a startled Daphne, who had been standing in the back of the crowd, not even trying to catch the bouquet.

"Well, looks like you'll be getting married next, Daphne!" Pansy teased. "Better tell Weasley to start planning the wedding!"

"The Minister of Magic's son is a fine catch," Yvonne cooed, and the girls burst into giggles as both Daphne and Ron, sitting over at the Gryffindor table, turned bright red.

"Oh, but surely the next person to be married will be Millicent," Daphne hastily demurred, still blushing furiously. "After all, she's already engaged to Miles."

"Well, perhaps Weasley will be the next to propose," Millicent said slyly, and the girls giggled again.

Up at the head table, Molly watched Daphne with a speculative eye and murmured, "Hmmm..." in a thoughtful voice.

"Watch out, Ron," Harry said with a grin, elbowing his friend in the side. "Your Mum's got that look in her eye, the same one she gets when she looks at Bill and Fleur, like she's already planning a wedding."

"Well, um," Ron mumbled, his face turning even redder, "I'm not going to get married right away or anything, but Daphne's dad wants me to apprentice with him."

"You mean, as in marry into the Greengrass family and take over the business someday?!" Seamus exclaimed, and the Gryffindor boys stared at him in shock.

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, then gave him a reproachful look. "You never mentioned anything about it to me, and I'm your best friend!"

"Didn't you want to be a Quidditch player?" Dennis Creevey asked.

"Well, let's face it, I'm not bad, but I'm not professional material, either," Ron said matter-of-factly. "And I've discovered that I'm pretty good at Herbology, and I really like it, now that I know what I'm doing."

"You mean, you like your pretty tutor," Seamus said with a wink.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron said apologetically. "I was talking with Mr. Greengrass about it after the match, but then we got interrupted, and with all the excitement, I kind of forgot about it until now. But he wants to sit down with me and my folks and have a serious talk about it later."

"Wow," Harry said, still feeling stunned, and impressed as well. "So you've already decided on your future. You're going to be a florist."

"I think I'll be good at it, though I've still got a lot to learn," Ron said, his blush beginning to fade. "And I'll get to do some traveling, to search for rare plants to add to the greenhouses, and that kind of sounds like fun."

"If you marry Daphne, that means you'll be taking on the Greengrass name," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Or at least your children will; I assume Mr. Greengrass wants his daughter's heirs to carry on the family name."

"Well, we wouldn't get married right away," Ron said hastily. "I've got to learn the ropes of the business and all that. It'll take at least a few years to properly complete my apprenticeship. But yeah, the idea is for me...for us..." Ron's blush flared up again. "...to take over the family business someday. Anyway, seeing as how I've got five brothers and Percy's already married, I think there's enough people to carry on the Weasley name without me."

At the head table, Mrs. Weasley was gossiping with Lady Selima in a conspiratorial manner. "Somehow, I don't think your mum will mind, Ron," Harry said with a grin. "In fact, I think the only problem will be in getting her to postpone the wedding until your apprenticeship is over."

Ron groaned, giving his mother an apprehensive look, although he didn't really look unhappy, either.

"Seriously, Ron," Harry said, throwing an arm around the other boy's shoulders. "If that's what you want, then I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Harry," Ron said with a relieved smile. "You know, if someone had told me back in first year that I'd be dating a Slytherin girl in seven years, I'd have told them that they were nuts."

"I like Daphne; she's nice," Harry said, and he meant it, although in the past, he too might have been horrified at the idea of his best friend dating a Slytherin. But Ron had become much more confident and happy since he had started seeing Daphne, so Harry figured that she was good for him. "So," Harry said with a grin, "you'll make me your best man, right?"

"Not you too, Harry!" Ron protested with a good-natured laugh. "Isn't Mum bad enough?"

They broke off their conversation when Dumbledore asked everyone to rise so that the dancing could begin. With a flourish of his wand, the Headmaster instantly moved the tables and benches against the walls of the room to clear space for a dance floor. The string quartet started playing, and Lukas and Narcissa took the floor for their first dance. After that, other couples began joining in. 

Arthur danced with his wife, then took a turn dancing with the new bride, then went over to talk to Ash, who was chatting with the Kimuras and Aric. "Excuse me," he said, tapping the werewolf on the shoulder.

"What, did you want a dance?" Ash joked with a wolfish grin. "I wouldn't want to make your wife jealous."

"No, no," Arthur laughed, "although I'm sure you're a fine dancer, Mr. Randolf. Actually, I wanted to offer you a job."

"What?!" Ash exclaimed. Surely he couldn't be serious, although Arthur Weasley didn't seem like the type to play cruel practical jokes. "What kind of job?" he asked warily. Maybe the Ministry needed a janitor or something--menial labor was the only type of job that most people would offer a werewolf. Ash would rather continue working in the black market and risk being arrested than work as a servant to a bunch of snooty purebloods.

"I would like to offer you a position in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department," Arthur said cheerfully.

"What?!" Ash said again. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I assure you, I'm quite serious, Mr. Randolf," Arthur said earnestly. "Tonks recommended you to me. She said that you have extensive knowledge of Muggle devices." The Minister smiled eagerly. "In fact, when you have time, I'd like to talk to you about a few devices in my private collection. I'm still not entirely sure what they do."

Ash just stood there with his mouth hanging open as the violet-haired Auror walked up with a grin on her face. "I told you that you'd be qualified to work in Muggle Artifacts!" she said.

"I didn't think you were serious!" Ash said. 

"Well, I was," Tonks replied, still grinning. "So how about it, Ash? You said that you wanted a chance to work at something besides menial labor--put your money where your mouth is."

"But...but...but..." Ash stammered, turning back towards Arthur. "The purebloods will never tolerate a werewolf working at the Ministry! You'll lose your position!"

"Oh, I think not," Arthur said smugly. "My detractors have withdrawn their petition to remove me, and they've suffered serious damage to their credibility with Williamson's arrest and conviction. My position is quite safe, and I think it's past time for a few changes to be made at the Ministry."

"But you are aware that I was arrested for dealing in illegal Muggle devices?" Ash demanded.

"A trumped-up charge and we both know it," Arthur said, waving off Ash's objection with a wave of his hand.

"But--"

"I am aware of your...ah...shall we say, shady past," Arthur continued. "But I think that's all to the good. Who better to catch a smuggler than a former smuggler?"

"You always said that you worked in the black market because you had no choice, because there was no legitimate work open to you," Takeshi said, smiling at Ash gently. "Well, here is your chance, Ash. You have the opportunity not only to work at a respectable and well-paying job, but to become a role model for your fellow werewolves."

"I think it's a wonderful opportunity," Haruko said. "I'm sure you'll do very well at your new job, Ash."

"But..." Ash protested weakly. It was a great opportunity, one that even a pureblood would jump at, but he felt strangely reluctant and a little frightened. He had lived as an outcast and a fugitive for so long that he wasn't sure he would be able to adapt to a respectable job and a respectable life.

"Please, Ash," Arthur said earnestly. "I need your help. I don't want someone who will just track down smugglers and owners of illegal artifacts. I need someone knowledgeable about both the Muggle and wizarding worlds who can help me distinguish between the devices that are truly dangerous and those that might be beneficial. Please help me to make the wizarding world a more open-minded place while still keeping it safe."

The Minister of Magic held out his hand, while the Kimuras and Tonks smiled at Ash expectantly. Aric gave him a more sympathetic smile, not surprisingly, since he had been trying to escape the Ministry career that his parents had arranged for him. "I think that's a lot to ask from one disreputable werewolf," Ash finally said, his voice trembling slightly, but he reached out to shake Arthur's hand.

"I have faith in you, Ash," Arthur said warmly. "Besides, look at Remus--he almost single-handedly changed the younger generation's attitude about werewolves!"

Arthur and Ash walked off together, to give Lukas the good news and to discuss the details about Ash's new job. "I don't know whether to congratulate him or feel sorry for him," Aric said with a smile.

"He will do fine," Haruko said confidently. "And speaking of jobs, when will you be starting at St. Mungo's, Aric?"

"I still have to discuss that with Healer Smethwyck," Aric replied.

"I'm going to suggest that he start in August," Takeshi said, "so that he can come with us to Japan this summer."

"Yes, of course, we must introduce him to the family!" Haruko said cheerfully, and Aric smiled nervously.

"I can't wait," he lied. But still, Takeshi's parents had greeted him warmly, and it was obvious from the knowing little smiles that they kept exchanging, that they knew he and Takeshi were a couple. Aric had been a little surprised when he had met Takeshi's father, Isamu. He was a middle-aged man who wore glasses and had thinning hair and a thickening waistline--not ugly by any means, but he looked a little homely in contrast to the stunning beauty of his wife and son. He did have a very open, friendly face, though, and his kind smile reminded Aric of Takeshi's.

"But first," Isamu said, "you must come over and have dinner with us, so that we can get to know you. In a few days, perhaps, after you have settled in at Takeshi's apartment?"

Oh Merlin, the first dinner with the in-laws! "Of course," Aric said bravely, trying to hide his apprehension. "I'm looking forward to it." And the three Kimuras beamed at him so happily that Aric's nervousness eased, and he thought that dinner with the in-laws wouldn't be so bad after all. Takeshi was smiling at him gratefully, and anything that made his lover happy could not be a bad thing. 

Aric unobtrusively reached out and clasped Takeshi's hand for just a moment, squeezing it gently before releasing it. No one else noticed, but Takeshi did, and gave Aric a brief look of tenderness before continuing the conversation with his parents. He looked beautiful in a dress robe made of Ravenclaw-blue silk, the first time that Aric had seen him in anything besides his lime-green St. Mungo's uniform. He would be moving into Takeshi's flat today after school let out, and he felt a sudden thrill of excitement rush through his body like a little jolt of electricity as he realized that they would finally be able to spend their first night alone together.

Meanwhile, Blaise danced a couple of times with his sister, then left the floor. He found Theodore near the head table, talking with Snape, Lupin, and Dumbledore.

"Ah, Mr. Zabini, you're just the person I wanted to see!" the Headmaster said cheerfully.

"Me?" asked a startled Blaise.

"Theodore and Professor Snape have told me that you're taking a summer job as a docent at the Museum of Wizarding History."

"Yes, sir," Blaise replied, still feeling puzzled. "I thought I could see how I like working at the museum, and it would be good experience if I decide to apply for a full-time job there."

"It would also be excellent experience for a teaching position," Dumbledore said.

"Excuse me, sir?" Blaise asked, not sure if he'd heard right.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Mr. Zabini, most of the students find Professor Binns's teaching methods...ah...somewhat less than effective," the Headmaster said tactfully.

"In other words, they're not learning what they should, because he puts them to sleep," Snape said bluntly. "And he's been gradually losing his grip on reality. I've seen him lecturing to an empty classroom more than once."

"You're not thinking of firing Professor Binns, are you?" Blaise asked doubtfully. Not that he had any particular fondness for the History Professor, but he wasn't sure how one went about firing a ghost. 

"No, Blaise," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I would never turn Professor Binns out of his home, even if such a thing were possible. But it occurred to me that perhaps the Professor could use a teaching assistant."

"A teaching assistant?" Blaise asked

"Yes, someone who could supplement the Professor's lectures, answer questions that the students might have, and help them with their assignments," Dumbledore replied. "Talented students like yourself or Miss Granger do quite well studying your history texts on your own, but some of the others need a little more guidance than Professor Binns is able to provide."

"And you want me to be the teaching assistant?" Blaise asked, still not sure that he was hearing correctly.

Dumbledore nodded, and Theodore grinned and said, "Professor Zabini!"

The Headmaster chuckled and said, "Well, I think you need a little more experience before we can make you a full Professor, Blaise, so I thought an assistant position would be a good starting place. You can gain the necessary experience assisting Professor Binns, and in a few years, if the Professor is just as content to lecture an empty room as he is one full of students, well...then perhaps it would be best to appoint a new History of Magic teacher."

"So what do you think, Blaise?" Lupin asked with a grin.

"I think that would be wonderful!" Blaise exclaimed. While trying to stay awake in History class, he had often thought of how he would have done things differently from Binns. Merlin's Beard, Binns could even make the Goblin Wars sound deadly dull! Their history books were full of interesting and exciting events, but Binns's droning monotone voice reduced them to cold facts on a page that needed to be memorized, instead of making them come to life for the students. Now Blaise would have the chance to see if he could do better. 

And he knew that Professor Snape intended to recommend Theo for the Ancient Runes position when Professor Driscoll retired in a few years, which meant that he and Theo might be able to live and work together, and Blaise could think of nothing that he would like better. He wasn't sure, though, that he would ever be able to think of his former Professors as colleagues instead of his teachers--especially the intimidating ones, like Snape and Blackmore, and to a lesser degree, McGonagall. It would be slightly easier to think of Lupin, who was winking at him right now, as a friend instead of an authority figure.

Blaise stood up straight, and said in a more dignified voice, "I would be honored to accept the position if you feel that I am worthy of it, Headmaster."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said, firmly clasping and shaking Blaise's hand. "Welcome to the staff, my boy. While you're working at the museum this summer, think about lesson plans and projects you would like to create for the students, to supplement Professor Binns's standard lectures, which you should be quite familiar with, after seven years."

"Yes, sir!" Blaise said, already filled with ideas for the coming school year. It seemed like a dream come true: he would be able to do work that interested him, and most likely be able to work alongside his lover in a few years. And on top of that, a teaching position at Hogwarts was prestigious enough to satisfy his mother, who would hopefully stop nagging him about becoming a mediwizard. His eyes drifted towards the dance floor, where Allegra was dancing with Patrick Parkinson. He would also be able to keep an eye on his little sister and keep her out of mischief--or at least keep the mischief to a minimum, and to make sure that no young men with dishonorable intentions took advantage of her. Yes, a position at Hogwarts would be ideal.

While Blaise was smiling smugly, Harry was also giving serious thought to his future, even as he was having a good time dancing with Ginny. While some people, like Dylan and Hermione, knew exactly what they wanted to do after they graduated, Harry had been uncertain all year, and although Lupin had assured him that this was normal, it still bothered him, especially when he saw his yearmates lining up apprenticeships and applying for jobs. There had been several ideas, including playing professional Quidditch, that seemed somewhat appealing, but there had been nothing that really felt "right," that had captured his interest wholeheartedly.

Until now. An idea had taken nebulous form in his head over the past few weeks, and his resolve had gradually strengthened and solidified. Mindful of how he had jokingly scolded Ron for not confiding in him about apprenticing with Mr. Greengrass, Harry told his best friends about his plans before he told anyone else.

"That's wonderful, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. 

"Good for you, Harry!" Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "I kind of thought that's what you'd decide on, in the end." He sighed a little. "Although it's too bad that you won't be playing for the Chudley Cannons."

"I think that's great, Harry," Ginny said, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which made him flush with pleasure. "You should go tell Sirius and Professor Blackmore."

So Harry went to find his godparents. They had been dancing earlier, but now Professor Blackmore was sitting on the sidelines as Sirius handed her a glass of water.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course, Harry," Sirius said with a smile. "What is it?"

"I've finally decided what I want to do," Harry said firmly.

"There's no rush, Harry," Sirius said kindly, "but you sound quite certain of yourself."

"I am," Harry said. "I want to be an Auror."

"That's great, Harry!" Sirius said. "I know that you were thinking about it, but what decided you?"

"Those Aurors, Williamson and Dawlish," Harry said gravely. "Williamson was like those Aurors who arrested you without caring about finding proof of your guilt. No, he was even worse, because at least they didn't create false evidence to frame you. And even if Dawlish wasn't in on Williamson's plot, he was so closed-minded that he couldn't see the truth. I know that there are good Aurors, like Tonks and Kingsley, but there aren't enough of them. I don't want to just sit around complaining that the Aurors are bad; I want to do something about it. I want to become the kind of Auror who will look for the truth and not just presume someone's guilty because of their family or because they're a non-human. I want to become the kind of Auror who will protect people and not bully them."

His godfather's eyes were full of love and pride, and Sirius hugged Harry and said, "I'm so proud of you, Harry! The Aurors definitely need some new blood!"

"I'm proud of you, too, Harry," Professor Blackmore said softly. "I think that you will make a fine Auror with that kind of attitude." 

Harry suddenly noticed that she looked a little pale and wan, and that Bane, who was perched in his usual spot on her shoulder, was regarding his mistress with a look of concern. "Are you feeling all right, Professor?" he asked.

"I'm feeling a little ill," she admitted. "Perhaps I ate something that didn't agree with me at lunch."

"I feel fine, although I didn't have any of the shellfish," Sirius said. "Maybe it wasn't as fresh as it could have been?"

"Hogwarts is not usually in the habit of giving its staff and students food poisoning," Blackmore said.

"Nobody else seems to be getting sick, so I don't think it's food poisoning," Harry said, after looking around the room. "Maybe you're just coming down with the flu or something?"

"I never get sick, dear," Blackmore said. "I have a very strong constitution, courtesy of my ancestor, Lord Raven."

The one that Theodore claimed was a demon. Well, Harry had never heard of a demon catching a cold or the flu, but then again, he didn't know much about demons, and besides, he still wasn't completely convinced that Professor Blackmore really had demon blood. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," he finally suggested.

Blackmore protested that it wasn't necessary, but Sirius was beginning to look a little worried, and insisted on it. So they quietly spoke to the school nurse and slipped away from the party.

Harry and Sirius waited outside the hospital wing for a few minutes while Pomfrey examined Blackmore, then the nurse opened the door and ushered them in with a smile.

Sirius seemed reassured by her smile. "It's nothing serious, then?" he asked anxiously.

"Oh, that depends on your point of view," Pomfrey said. "But Branwen isn't sick, or rather, her illness is a symptom of her condition." The school nurse looked very amused, for some reason. "I might almost say that it's contagious; perhaps there's something in the air..."

"Would you stop talking in riddles, Poppy?" Blackmore asked irritably.

"You're pregnant, dear," Pomfrey said calmly.

"I am?" Blackmore said, staring at her in shock.

"These things do happen, dear," Pomfrey said, still looking amused. "You have been married for nearly a year now. But you're only about six weeks along, so I'm not really surprised that you hadn't noticed yet."

A huge, silly grin spread across Sirius's face. "I'm going to be a dad?!" he shouted excitedly.

"I'm going to be a brother?" Harry asked, just as eagerly. Both Sirius and Blackmore turned to stare at him, looking surprised but delighted by his statement. Harry suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with Dylan, about wanting to call Sirius "Dad". Dylan had said that the way you felt about someone was more important than the name you called them by, and that Snape and Lupin were like fathers to him even though he didn't actually call them "Father" or "Dad". Harry knew that Dylan was right, but now he also realized that names could be very important, if they let the other person know how you felt about them.

"Yes, Harry," Sirius said softly, his eyes filled with tears although he was still grinning. "You're going to be a big brother." And he hugged Harry in an embrace that was both fierce and tender at the same time.

"My daughter will be lucky to have a brother like you," Blackmore said, kissing Harry gently on the forehead.

"Your son," Pomfrey corrected. "You're going to have a boy."

"Oh!" Blackmore said, looking startled. "The Blackmore women usually have girls. But there have been a few Blackmore Lords, including my father."

"A boy!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'm going to have a son!"

"I'm going to have a brother!" Harry said. "I'll teach him to fly, and play Quidditch..."

"It'll be a few more years before you'll be able to do that," Pomfrey laughed, but Harry and Sirius ignored her, capering around the hospital wing, knowing that they looked like idiots but not caring. 

"I'll take him for rides on my Firebolt!"

"I'll take him fishing!"

"Do you know how to fish, Sirius?"

"Sure. Well, I'm not very good at it, but I know how to do it. Every father and son should go fishing together. In fact, this summer I'll take you to this little fishing hole that James showed me once..."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Sure!" Sirius replied. "We might not catch anything, but to be honest, I don't much care for dealing with a wriggling, flopping fish."

"Oh," Harry said, suddenly feeling a little less enthusiastic. He liked the idea of a father/son fishing trip, but he'd never had to kill anything he ate before. "Er...how are you supposed to kill a fish, anyway?"

"A sharp blow to the head is supposed to put it out of its misery quickly," Sirius replied.

"Oh," Harry repeated, suddenly feeling a bit queasy.

"Unless you'd rather use a Killing Curse," Sirius joked, "but that does seem like overkill. Well, perhaps we could go for a hike and a swim instead. Or we could go fishing, and just throw the fish back in the water when we catch them. Some people do that just for the sport of it, I'm told."

"Uh...sure," Harry said. He didn't really see much point in that, but he didn't really care. All that mattered was that he would be able to spend some time with his godfather.

"I feel sick," Blackmore suddenly groaned. Maybe all the talk about fishing was making her queasy, too. Madam Pomfrey managed to grab a basin and get it in place just in time as Blackmore threw up. "This is all your fault, Sirius Black!" she said accusingly.

"I believe it takes two to tango, my dear," Sirius said with a grin.

"How would you like to spend the rest of your life as a toad?"

"I don't think that a toad would be a very good father for your baby, dear," Pomfrey said soothingly to Blackmore. Then she glared at Sirius. "You know, it's a bad idea to upset a pregnant woman. Especially when that pregnant woman is a master of the Dark Arts."

"True," Sirius agreed, then kissed his wife on the cheek and said contritely, "I'm sorry, my love. I'll see if Snape can brew a potion to make you feel better."

"Please do," Blackmore said, looking somewhat mollified.

"Come on, Harry," Sirius said, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Let's go find Snape and Moony and tell them the good news."

So they left the hospital wing and headed back to the Great Hall. "I really hope that Snape can brew a potion to take care of her morning sickness," Sirius said. "Living with an irritable Dark Sorceress for eight months could be hazardous to my health." But despite his words, he still looked ecstatic.

"Hob will be happy," Harry laughed. "He's been dying for you two to have kids! He even started turning one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery last summer."

"Really? Well, I guess we won't have to rush to get things ready for the baby, then."

"Eight months should be plenty of time, Sirius. Well, technically I guess it's seven and a half."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so happy!" Sirius said, stopping to hug Harry again.

"Me too," Harry said, hugging him back. He still wanted to have a talk with Sirius about calling him "Dad," but that could wait until things had calmed down a little, when they were back home at Grimmauld Place. For now he was content in the knowledge that he was part of Sirius's family, which was soon to grow by one more.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeshi and Aric move in together; Lupin gives Takeshi a "facts of life" talk, werewolf style; plus, some fun in the bath.

Lupin had decided that they would help Aric move into Takeshi's flat and throw the pair a housewarming party; Snape had realized that this was a fight that he couldn't win, and gave in with only minimal grumbling.

Actually, Aric didn't need much help in moving, since he had only the possessions he'd brought with him to Hogwarts, mainly clothes and books. He had more belongings at home, of course, but he was reluctant to face his family, so Erika had promised to pack up his things and send them to him later. Takeshi had been living at his flat for over two years, so he didn't really need any housewarming gifts, but he knew that Aric could use the moral support, so he cheerfully went along with Lupin's plan.

So after the wedding celebration was over, they helped Aric pack up his belongings and move them directly through the Floo to Takeshi's flat. (Snape had flat-out refused to ride the train with a bunch of noisy brats.) Cabal was left behind in the care of Hagrid, since Takeshi had diffidently suggested that perhaps the flat was a little too small to accommodate a large dog. 

The flat consisted of a living room, kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom, and a smaller bedroom that Takeshi used as a study, and was spacious enough for one or two people, but a little crowded with four guests, so it was probably just as well that they'd left the dog behind. Cabal had not seemed to mind, and Hagrid's dog Fang had seemed pleased to make a new friend.

Takeshi went to the kitchen to start dinner ("I did promise you a home-cooked meal when you got out of the hospital," he told Aric with a smile), while Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan helped Aric unpack. Snape declined to help with the unpacking, and retreated to the kitchen to discuss potions with his former student.

Aric, Theodore, and Dylan did as much gawking as they did unpacking. There was a beautiful painting of a flock of cranes in flight hanging above the fireplace, and there were shelves filled with books on potions and spells, which seemed normal enough, but there were also a number of Muggle devices: a stereo with compact disc player and tape deck; a television hooked up to video tape and DVD players, as well as a video game system; and a rack filled with compact discs, games, videos, and DVDs in the living room. There was also a computer in the study. The boys all came from very traditional wizarding families, and despite their Muggle Studies classes, Lupin had to explain to them what some of the devices were.

"You never told me that you had so many Muggle devices!" Aric exclaimed, staring at them with an expression of combined horror and fascination on his face.

The kitchen was separated from the living room only by a countertop, and Takeshi laughed and smiled at them good-naturedly over it. "The Japanese wizards are a little less phobic about Muggle technology," he said cheerfully. "And sometimes it's easier for me to communicate with my brother or Professor Kamiyama through e-mail on the computer rather than by owl, Floo, or mirror. It was much more secure, too, at least while the war was still going on. None of the Death Eaters or their Ministry pawns would have had any idea how to use a computer, let alone hack into someone's e-mail account."

"Hack?" Aric asked, looking completely bewildered. He didn't exactly understand what "e-mail" was either, but he vaguely knew that it was possible for Muggles to send messages to each other through the computers somehow.

"It's a bit complicated," Takeshi said. "I'll explain it to you some other time. Suffice it to say that a Death Eater would have had no way to intercept messages sent through the computer."

"Clever," Dylan said, sounding impressed. 

"Perhaps," Snape said doubtfully, eyeing the Muggle devices with an air of distaste, his upper lip curling slightly. "But do the other devices have some practical use or redeeming value?"

"Not really," Takeshi said, still smiling pleasantly. "They're mainly for entertainment purposes." He called out to the boys, "We can watch a movie if you'd like." He glanced at Snape's scowling face. "Well, perhaps not tonight, but you can come over some other time to visit us. I'll even make popcorn."

Dylan's and Theodore's eyes gleamed with excitement. The wizarding world had live plays, and moving pictures in books and magazines, but it didn't really have anything equivalent to Muggle movies. However, it was not just the novelty of the idea, but also the thrill of the forbidden that appealed to them. 

Snape sighed irritably. "You may live your life as you see fit, Mr. Kimura, but please try not to corrupt my sons."

"None of these devices are proscribed by the Ministry, Professor," Takeshi said politely. "And if I am not mistaken, Dylan is in a serious relationship with a Muggle-born girl. At some point, he will probably have to venture into the Muggle world to meet her family, and in that case, wouldn't it be better for him to be familiar with Muggle technology so that he does not arouse suspicion by appearing ignorant of things that most Muggles consider commonplace?"

"I suppose," Snape said grumpily. "Although I think it would be better if he did not venture into the Muggle world at all."

Lupin and the boys continued unpacking and exploring Aric's new home. As Aric hung up his robes in the bedroom closet, his gaze couldn't help but fall on the bed, and he felt a flush of heat rush through his body as he anticipated what might happen when he and Takeshi were alone. 

And although he had been glad for their company just a moment ago, he suddenly wished that Lupin and the others were gone. He had to duck into the bathroom for a minute to splash some cold water on his face and regain his composure. He could really have used a cold shower, but that would be difficult to explain to the others. So he firmly reined in his libido, telling himself that it wouldn't kill him to wait a couple of hours to be alone with his lover, and went back out to face his guests.

Soon Takeshi was serving dinner, along with Lupin's housewarming gift, a bottle of wine. It was a simple and mostly Japanese-style meal of rice, fish, and vegetables, but he had also cooked a couple of thick, juicy steaks and sliced the meat into thin, bite-sized strips. The meat was browned on the outside and pink and juicy-looking on the inside. Aric suddenly found himself salivating; it was all he could do to keep from drooling, and he remembered what Takeshi had said about the wolf craving meat.

Lupin and Aric ate the bulk of the meat, with Takeshi laughing at the expression of ecstasy on Aric's face as he chewed and swallowed.

"You're a great cook, Takeshi!" Aric said between bites. "I've never had a steak this good! Or does it taste better than it normally would, because of what you said about the wolf craving meat?"

"It tastes good to me, too," Theodore said with a smile. "Is that true, Remus, that a werewolf craves meat? I never noticed you having any particular cravings."

Lupin grinned. "Well, when I'm actually in wolf form, I suppose I do. Severus can tell you about the time that I nearly snatched a joint of beef off the dinner table during one full moon when we were staying at Sirius's house. Molly swatted me on the nose with her apron and told me to get down, like I was a pet dog!"

Takeshi and the boys laughed, and Snape said, "Well, you were acting like one, Lupin. Cabal is a good deal more well-mannered than you are."

"And also," Lupin continued, "I never had much money up until recently. I got used to eating whatever I could afford, which was usually soup or stew, since it could stretch the meat farther, and I could grow vegetables in my garden. If I had cravings, I suppose I learned to ignore them."

The mood instantly sobered, and an awkward silence fell over the dinner table, until Snape said sarcastically, "Well, you're just the life of the party, Lupin," and everyone laughed, including Lupin.

"Sorry, didn't mean to put a damper on things," Lupin said cheerfully. "I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. I may have been poor, but I had a family and friends that loved me and accepted me as I was, so I was happy enough. And even happier now that I have a family of my own in Severus, Theo, and Dylan. Oh, and Cabal, of course." He smiled tenderly at Snape, who just grunted, looking embarrassed, and bent his head over his plate, concentrating intently on his food.

"I suppose it varies from person to person," Takeshi said. "But most of Lukas's pack members have told me that they've noticed a craving for meat, particularly near the full moon. It seems logical enough; in addition to the wolf being a predator, the transformation uses up a lot of energy, and meat replenishes energy faster than vegetables or fruit or bread. Sugar gives one a quick energy rush, but it doesn't last very long."

"Would that explain your fondness for sweets?" Dylan asked Lupin with a grin.

"Perhaps," Lupin replied, grinning back at him. "But then how would you explain Severus's sweet-tooth? He's not a werewolf." 

Snape muttered something under his breath that only Lupin and Aric could hear, about needing a lot of energy to keep up with a certain werewolf. Lupin grinned lasciviously and Aric blushed, which caused Snape to regard him with narrowed eyes and mutter, "I'll have to remember that there are two of you from now on."

They talked about their plans for the summer over dinner. Takeshi, of course, was taking Aric with him to Japan to meet his relatives and attend Chizuru's wedding to Karasu. Snape and Lupin had also been invited to the wedding, but were not sure if they would be able to attend. Snape was negotiating an apprenticeship for Theodore with a Master of Rune Lore, and he wanted to see his son properly settled in his new position before leaving England. Dylan wanted to visit Rosier Manor, his father's ancestral home, and possibly clean up and reopen the mansion. He also said that he had been invited to spend a couple of weeks with Hermione's family, who were eager to meet their daughter's boyfriend, which caused Snape to groan out loud.

"Just think, Severus," Lupin said in a chirpy voice, "they'll be our in-laws after Dylan and Hermione get married!"

Snape glared at Lupin. "I really think that a wolfskin rug would improve the decor of my office," he growled.

"Don't worry, Professor," Dylan laughed. "I'm sure we'll spend most of our time in the wizarding world, since Hermione will be apprenticed to Mr. Jigger, and then we'll be taking over the Apothecary shop after I graduate."

"Just don't expect me to spend any time in the Muggle world," Snape grumbled, not looking very mollified.

"Oh, and of course there will be Lukas's formal wedding reception, and Lady Selima wanted to throw a graduation party for Theodore," Lupin said. "I imagine that we'll spend most of the summer at Snape Manor."

"I don't suppose that we can convince her to combine the two parties," Snape sighed. "I really hate formal parties."

"But they make Grandmother happy," Theodore said. 

Lupin smiled at him approvingly. "Yes, Lady Selima is in her element when hosting a party. I suppose she must miss all the socializing she did when your father still worked at Ministry, Severus."

"I suppose," Snape said grudgingly.

"It won't hurt to humor her a little," Lupin said. "And perhaps she'll be too busy arranging Lukas's entry into high society to pester you about behaving like a 'proper' Lord."

"Yes," Snape said, brightening at that thought. "His being appointed Lord is her personal victory, after all. And he'll need a great deal of help reopening the family mansion, which Amos had closed up, and in managing the estate finances..."

"Poor Lukas," Takeshi said, but his eyes were sparkling mischievously.

Lupin offered to help Takeshi clean up after dinner was over, and waved off offers of help from Theodore and Dylan. "Just relax," Lupin said. "We can manage. Do you mind if I put on some music, Takeshi?"

"Go right ahead," Takeshi replied.

Lupin turned on the stereo and put in a compact disc, ignoring the annoyed look on Snape's face. The Potions Master braced himself for some raucous music similar to the Weird Sisters, but it turned out to be classical music, and he relaxed a little, sipping at his wine.

The boys stared in fascination at the stereo, then began looking through Takeshi's CD collection, but eventually Aric grew curious about the conversation Lupin and Takeshi were having in the kitchen. He strained to listen with his keen werewolf hearing, but they were speaking softly, and the music prevented him from picking up anything more than an indistinct murmur, which made him suspicious that Lupin had put on the music exactly for that purpose--especially when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen.

Snape was glaring at the pair, and Aric hesitantly asked, "What do you think they're talking about, Professor?"

"In a case like this, you'll find that it's generally better not to know, Dietrich," Snape said sourly.

Dylan grinned and said, "That probably means that they're talking about you." Takeshi let out a startled exclamation, glanced at Snape, then quickly looked away when Snape glared at him. "Or about the Professor," Dylan added.

"Most likely both," Snape said with a sigh of resignation. "But as I said, I'd rather not know."

*** 

"I thought perhaps I should give you the 'facts of life' speech," Lupin told Takeshi as they washed the dishes, with a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes.

"Aren't I a little old for that, Remus?" Takeshi asked, looking amused.

"I meant the werewolf facts of life," Lupin clarified. He lowered his voice nearly to a whisper, obviously not wanting the others to overhear him in the living room. "I know that you're an expert on treating werewolves, Takeshi, but I don't think that your knowledge extends to...er...werewolf mating habits. There are a few things you should know, so that you won't be surprised." Lupin smiled nostalgically. "Well, some things came as a pleasant surprise to Severus and myself, but some people might be taken aback by them..."

Takeshi blushed and murmured, "Actually, Remus, you can save the speech. I've...ah...been with werewolves before, so I'm not nervous about being with Aric. Well, no more so than I would be about any new lover. I won't go into a panic if Aric starts howling or something, if that's what you're worried about."

"I see," Lupin said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't mean to pry, but were these serious relationships?"

"No," Takeshi replied as his blush deepened. "Just a couple of one night stands." He hastily added, "I don't usually do that sort of thing, but, well..."

"You don't need to explain," Lupin assured him. "You're a consenting adult, and your lovelife is none of my business. The only reason that I ask is because I suspect things might be a little different with a lifemate than with a casual lover."

"You 'suspect'?" Takeshi asked curiously, wondering if that meant what it sounded like.

Lupin smiled. "Severus is the only lover I've ever had," he confirmed. "So my experience is obviously somewhat limited. But I can tell you that a werewolf has...er...remarkable stamina."

Takeshi giggled. "That, I know."

"Severus says that I'm insatiable," Lupin said with a wicked grin that was worthy of a Slytherin, and Takeshi laughed and blushed again. "And I'm not sure if you know this, but the wolf's desires seem to grow stronger the closer it gets to the full moon." He leaned over and whispered something into Takeshi's ear.

_"How_ many times in one night?!" Takeshi exclaimed softly, staring at the Potions Master with mingled shock and awe.

"Shh!" Lupin hissed, looking like he was trying not to laugh, and Takeshi quickly looked away as Snape glared at them.

Takeshi giggled, his face flaming red by now. "I know that werewolves have more than human strength, but how does the poor Professor manage? He must need a Strengthening Solution to keep up with you!"

"Oh, Severus has remarkable stamina himself," Lupin said proudly. "I'm not sure if the wolf's desire is contagious, or if I'm just lucky in my choice of lovers. Even so, sometimes the wolf is still...um...frisky...even when Severus's strength has run out. But he does his best to...er...satisfy me in other ways. I just wanted to warn you that you might find the nights leading up to the full moon rather exhausting."

"I look forward to it," Takeshi laughed, still blushing. He was mortified, and yet at the same time he couldn't wait to experiment with Aric and see if Lupin's "facts of life" were really true. As much as he liked Remus, and as glad as he was that Aric and Theodore were growing closer, Takeshi really hoped that his guests would not be staying much longer.

Looking a little more serious, Lupin said, "And, at least in my own personal experience, the wolf seems to feel a need to mark and claim its mate. So don't be alarmed if Aric tries to bite you during lovemaking. He won't hurt you."

Takeshi remembered the dream he'd had where his wolf lover had bitten him on the back of his neck, and he remembered the sensation of Ash's teeth brushing against his throat the time that they had made love. He remembered wanting to be bitten and claimed, only not by Ash, but by his dream lover--who was real now, and no longer a dream.

"I am not afraid of being bitten," Takeshi said softly. 

"Good," Lupin said quietly, a gentle smile on his face. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Takeshi. I'm sure you and Aric will do quite well together."

Takeshi laughed, his blush finally beginning to ease a bit. "Perhaps I should have you teach a class at the clinic: Sex Education for Werewolves."

They both laughed so loudly that it carried over the music, causing the boys to gaze at them curiously and Snape to glower at them fiercely.

*** 

After the dishes were done, Lupin said they should be going. He gave Aric a hug and told him to stop by and see them at his cottage or Snape Manor anytime, and Takeshi likewise extended an invitation for them to stop by his flat for another visit.

 _Finally!_ Aric thought to himself as Lupin and the others vanished through the Floo. Not that he wasn't grateful for their friendship, but it seemed like he had been waiting forever to be alone with Takeshi. And finally they were alone, with no nurses, Healers, students, or teachers to intrude on them.

He smiled nervously at Takeshi, suddenly feeling a little shy, but Takeshi reached out to take his hand, saying in a husky voice, "Come, Aric. I have been waiting a very long time to be alone with you, my wolf."

Aric let Takeshi lead him into the bedroom, feeling a little dazed, and watched entranced as Takeshi took out his wand and cast a silence spell on the room with a murmured charm and a graceful flick of his wrist. He laid his wand on the nightstand and then took off his glasses, carefully set them down beside his wand, and removed the band of elastic holding his braid together, letting his hair fall free to cascade over his shoulders and down his back like a river of black silk. Aric sighed and moved closer, unable to resist the impulse to reach out and run his fingers through his lover's hair. It really did feel like silk as it slid between his fingers, and he noticed something curious, that Takeshi's hair was perfectly smooth and straight, although he would have expected it to be wavy or crinkled from being bound in the braid all day. Maybe it had something to do with his crane blood. He wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him tightly, and also noticed that while Takeshi's dress robe was made of high quality silk, it still did not feel as smooth or soft as his hair did.

"You're so beautiful, 'Keshi," Aric whispered, burying his face in Takeshi's hair, feeling cool silk against his cheek and beneath his lips, then pulled back slightly and pushed Takeshi's hair away from his face so that he could lean in again and kiss him on the mouth. Takeshi's lips were warm, soft, and yielding, and parted with a small sigh, allowing Aric's tongue to slide between them. He felt Takeshi's tongue reach out to touch his, almost hesitantly, and their tongues lightly stroked each other, then began caressing and entwining with growing enthusiasm. Takeshi moaned, the sound muffled by Aric's mouth covering his, but it was enough to ignite a sharp flare of desire in Aric.

Aric tore his mouth from Takeshi's, enjoying the little moan of protest that his lover uttered. "I want you," he growled.

"And I want you, my wolf," Takeshi gasped. "Oh Merlin, I've been waiting for so long..."

It took every ounce of self-control that Aric had not to just rip the robes off his lover's body. As it was, his hands were shaking, and he felt clumsy and ham-fisted as he tried to undress Takeshi, a low growl of frustration forming in his throat.

"Careful," Takeshi laughed. "This robe was a gift from my brother; please don't tear it. Here, let me." He very gently pushed Aric's hands away, and few moments later the robe slipped off his shoulders and fell to the floor in a puddle of blue silk; he wore no shirt beneath it. Then in one smooth, fluid movement, he stripped off his trousers and underwear and stood before Aric, a glorious vision of white skin and black hair that made Aric want to melt into a puddle himself.

The fastenings on his own robe were a gold hook-and-eye combination, very shiny and pretty but much harder to undo than regular buttons, at least when your hands were trembling with desire. He cursed as he fumbled with the fastenings, but Takeshi laughed again and reached out to deftly undo them for him. Bemused, he thought to himself that he had never before noticed how long and graceful Takeshi's fingers were. He shivered as he imagined them moving across his body instead of his robe.

Finally--finally!--they were both nude, and stumbling towards the bed, kissing and caressing urgently. Not really watching where they were going, they fell down onto the bed in an ungraceful heap together, Takeshi landing atop Aric and momentarily knocking the breath out of him. And then Takeshi began trailing kisses across Aric's chest, and the sensation of his long hair sliding across Aric's skin made it even more difficult to breathe. He heard a low, rumbling growl and realized that it was coming from himself. Alarmed, he pushed Takeshi away from him, wondering if the wolf's presence should still be so strong in him after the full moon had already passed.

"Aric?" Takeshi asked, sounding puzzled and a little hurt.

"Sorry, 'Keshi," Aric said, trying to smile at him reassuringly. "I just need to catch my breath for a minute. This is so intense...I've been waiting for this moment for so long...I feel like I'm going to melt--or maybe explode--when you touch me."

Takeshi laughed, sounding relieved. "We have all the time in the world, my love. There's no rush."

"Just let me look at you for a minute," Aric whispered, and he did, drinking in the sight of his beloved. If the crane women were as beautiful as Takeshi, he didn't doubt that human men would have wanted to steal them to become their wives. But Takeshi belonged to Aric, had willingly consented to become his lover. Aric was filled with a sense of mingled wonder, tenderness, and fierce, possessive pride.

Takeshi smiled at him, and lay back and stretched out in a languid, sensual manner, as if basking in the heat of Aric's gaze. Aric's mouth suddenly felt dry, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. He was filled with a sudden urge to cover every inch of his lover's body with kisses, so he started by planting light kisses all over Takeshi's face, then a longer, deeper kiss on the mouth. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips away as Takeshi moaned in protest, and traced the curves of Takeshi's ears with his tongue, evoking another groan from his lover. Then he kissed his way down Takeshi's neck and chest, pausing to lightly run his tongue across Takeshi's nipples until they hardened, and Takeshi gasped. Then Aric took first one nipple and then the other in his mouth, sucking, licking, and gently nibbling on each one in turn until Takeshi was moaning out loud.

Aric delighted in the sound, but he still had the rest of his lover's body to explore, so with a little sigh of regret, he moved on, kissing his way down Takeshi's chest. As his lips made their way across Takeshi's belly, he heard the mediwizard's breath catch in his throat. But he hesitated before continuing his progression, both out of nervousness and a desire to prolong things a little longer. He gently pushed apart Takeshi's legs and began kissing the inside of one thigh, planting a trail of wet kisses that continued down his calf. Takeshi moaned in desire and frustration, then giggled as Aric lightly kissed the sole of each foot.

"That tickles!"

Aric moved to the other leg, reversing his path and kissing his way up from ankle to thigh. He let his mouth linger awhile on Takeshi's thigh--a stalling tactic, because there was one part of his lover's body that he had deliberately been avoiding. He had done some casual fooling around with boys at Durmstrang, but he had never taken a guy into his mouth before. He had never done anything that might be conceivably be construed as a passive or female role because, well...he had his pride as a pureblood heir, and the pureblood elite were mindful of their status and rank even in bed. 

But, to be completely honest, it was mostly because he had been afraid to take things too far with his male paramours, because then he might have had to admit to himself that he found much more pleasure with them than he did with his female lovers--and that was unacceptable for a pureblood heir who would be expected to take a wife and sire children someday. But he was no longer heir, so now there was no need to take a wife. He could love whom, and how, he pleased.

And he did want to please his lover, who was moaning, his body trembling with need and desire. Takeshi was already half-erect, and Aric tentatively ran his tongue across the head of his lover's penis and down the shaft, feeling it twitch slightly as Takeshi cried out in surprise and pleasure.

"Ah! Oh, Aric, please..."

Aric smiled, feeling a little more confident now. He enjoyed seeing seeing the normally calm and self-assured mediwizard lose a little of his composure. He slowly took his lover into his mouth, letting his lips and tongue slide up and down the shaft. He knew that his ministrations were inexperienced and a little awkward, but Takeshi was clearly enjoying them, judging by the way he was moaning and--more importantly--by the way he was hardening and swelling in Aric's mouth. Aric felt an echoing throb between his own legs; he was enjoying this far more than he'd thought he would, and felt a brief, furtive flicker of shame, the last vestiges of his pureblood prejudice. And then he let go of his shame, giving himself up to the moment, delighting in the sound of his lover's moans and his scent and touch and taste, growing increasingly excited by the undeniable evidence of how much Takeshi wanted him. He began to suckle harder, with more enthusiasm, and Takeshi's moans grew louder.

Aric felt Takeshi's body tense, and he glanced down and saw Takeshi's fingers curl into fists, clutching a double handful of the bedsheets as if he were trying to anchor himself down. And then he realized that Takeshi was fighting to hold himself still and not thrust into Aric's mouth, no doubt aware of his inexperience and not wanting to choke or startle him. He also suddenly became aware that Takeshi was still wearing the jade bracelet that Aric had given him, and Aric was filled with a profound sense of love that brought tears to his eyes. At the same time, seeing Takeshi naked except for the bracelet on his wrist was somehow even more intoxicating than simple nudity, and a dizzying wave of lust rushed through Aric's body, causing him to moan around the hard flesh in his mouth.

And then Takeshi's hands released the sheets and gently but firmly closed around his face, pulling him up. "What?" Aric asked anxiously. "Am I doing it wrong?" Maybe he should have spent a little more time reading Theo's book.

"Oh no, love, you're perfect," Takeshi assured him, and his voice sounded sincere. "It's just that...well..." His face, which was already flushed, grew a little redder. "I don't want to come yet. I want you to make love to me."

"Ah!" Aric exclaimed, his expression brightening, feeling relieved that he wasn't such an inept lover after all. And perhaps because he had already been thinking about Theo's book, the next thought that sprang to mind was the joking comment that Takeshi had made when he had spotted it in Aric's hospital room. "Page fifty-two, right?"

Takeshi burst into laughter. The old Aric, the pureblood heir, would have been offended by a lover laughing at him in bed, but he was no longer the old Aric. There was no malice in Takeshi's eyes or voice, and his laughter was so infectious, his smile so delightful, that Aric could not help but laugh along with him--and think to himself how beautiful Takeshi looked when he laughed.

"Yes, my wolf," Takeshi laughed. "Page fifty-two." He wound his arms around Aric's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Such a studious scholar," he said, his brown eyes still sparkling with merriment. "I take it you know what to do, then."

"Er...yes," Aric said. "I mean, I know what to do, but I've never actually done it before. That is...I've been with girls, and I've fooled around a bit with a few boys at Durmstrang, but I've never gone all the way with a guy before..." He blushed hotly, biting his lower lip to force himself to shut up, aware that he was babbling like an idiot and sounded like an inexperienced schoolboy--like some naive Gryffindor virgin.

"Then I'm glad that I shall be your first," was all Takeshi said, although there was a hint of barely suppressed laughter in his voice. "You'll need to prepare me. There's some lubricant in the nightstand drawer."

Aric reached inside the drawer, his face still burning. He started to lift out a small glass jar half-filled with oil, but Takeshi said, "No, not that one; the other one." Aric put the first jar back and pulled out another, this one filled with a white cream. He opened the lid and smelled a sharp, but not unpleasant, herbal scent mixed with the slighter sweeter scent of mint.

"Smells nice," he said, his werewolf senses having made him more aware of such things. "What is it?"

Takeshi smiled, looking pleased with himself. "A base for healing salve, a recipe that Chizuru taught me, that doesn't use lavender. I thought that the lavender oil might be too overwhelming and perfumey for a werewolf's tastes."

At first, Aric was pleased that his lover had been so considerate of him, to have whipped up a special batch of cream for him to use. Then he felt a little stab of jealousy, as he realized that Takeshi's words, along with the other jar in the drawer, implied that he had used lavender oil in the past with another lover--or lovers. He hated the thought of anyone else touching his beloved, hated the idea that someone else might have had Takeshi before him. He wanted his lover to belong only to him. He frowned at the jar in his hand, as if it were the source of his problems.

"Aric," Takeshi moaned impatiently, mistaking the reason for his preoccupation. "What are you waiting for? We can exchange potion recipes later!" 

Aric laughed, reassured by the urgency in Takeshi's voice. His jealousy eased slightly, transforming into a determined sense of resolve to claim his mate, as if by making love to Takeshi, he could erase the touch of those previous lovers from his body. No, he wanted more than to just make love to him--he wanted to drive Takeshi to such heights of ecstasy that he would forget that he'd ever had another lover before Aric.

It fleetingly occurred to Aric that perhaps that was a pretty lofty goal for someone whose past experience with men was severely limited, but his need to claim his mate was too strong for him to stop and think about it logically. Besides, it didn't seem so impossible with his lover lying naked on the bed, moaning and telling Aric to hurry up and make love to him.

"I thought you said we had all the time in the world," Aric teased, although he was just as eager as Takeshi was, if not more so.

"I changed my mind," Takeshi groaned. "Are you going to sit there analyzing that salve all night, or are you going to make love to me?"

"You're awfully demanding for a Ravenclaw," Aric said with a grin, dipping his fingers into the jar; the cream felt cool and pleasant on his skin, smooth and slick without feeling too greasy. "Maybe you should have been a Slytherin. You do look awfully good in green."

Takeshi opened his mouth, as if to make some sort of rebuke, but all that came out was a gasp, as Aric's fingers reached down between his legs, gently exploring and stroking, seeking the entrance to his body. Aric let his fingers circle that small, puckered opening (so different from a girl's), then slowly pushed one finger inside Takeshi, who whimpered softly. Aric hesitated, but Takeshi raised his hips slightly, encouraging the movement, so Aric pushed in a little deeper, then withdrew and pushed in again. 

"More," Takeshi whispered, his voice breathless and a little hoarse.

Aric took that as a good sign, and moved with more confidence, probing deeper and seeking the spot he'd read about in Theo's very helpful manual. Takeshi cried out and raised his hips off the bed again, pushing upwards to drive Aric's finger deeper inside of him. Ah, that must be it. Just to be sure, he brushed his finger against that same spot again; Takeshi groaned loudly. Yes, that was definitely it, Aric thought to himself with a sense of satisfaction. 

"More," Takeshi moaned, and Aric eased a second finger inside him. He felt just a little resistance at first, then Takeshi's body seemed to relax and open up to him, and he began thrusting with his fingers. He moved slowly at first, and Takeshi closed his eyes and made little mewling noises of pleasure, which made Aric chuckle because he sounded just like a kitten. And like a kitten waiting to be fed, his voice soon took on a plaintive, demanding note as he began shoving his hips up into the thrusts impatiently, obviously urging Aric to pick up the pace. With a bit of Slytherin wickedness, Aric deliberately slowed down, causing his lover to whimper in frustration, then sped up his thrusts, and Takeshi moaned urgently.

Aric felt his own desire rapidly growing, making it difficult to think straight, but he vaguely recalled that he was supposed to be stretching and preparing his lover. He began scissoring his fingers apart, and Takeshi cried out, his hips bucking and thrashing, his hands frantically clawing at the sheets.

Aric couldn't take it any longer; he pulled his hand away, and before Takeshi had a chance to protest, roughly shoved his lover's legs apart and knelt between them, filled with an overwhelming need to possess his mate. Takeshi moaned, tilting his head back, and Aric leaned forward, instinctively drawn by the sight of his lover's throat. He pressed his lips to the smooth, unmarked skin there, could feel the blood pulsing in the vein beneath his mouth. Aric snarled and opened his mouth, baring his teeth, ready to claim his mate and mark him, so that everyone would know that he belonged to Aric.

Just as he was about to sink his teeth into Takeshi's neck, he suddenly came to his senses and cried out in horror, flinging himself away from his lover with such force that he fell off the bed and hit the floor with a loud thump.

*** 

Takeshi was lying on the bed, feeling his mate poised to enter him, and he moaned eagerly, tilting his head back in an unconscious gesture of submission. He felt Aric's lips touch his throat, and he panted, his breaths coming in short gasps, aching with ever fiber of his being to finally be claimed by his mate. He had been waiting, longing for this moment ever since his first dream about his black wolf lover...

And then Aric cried out, and there was a loud thump, and Takeshi found himself alone on the bed, the weight of his lover's body no longer covering his own. Confused and disoriented, he rolled over to the edge of the bed and looked down. Aric lay sprawled out on the floor, a frightened and horrified look on his face. Takeshi's body was still aching with need and desire, which made it a little hard to think clearly, but he could think of nothing he had done that would so upset Aric. He climbed off the bed and knelt beside his lover, who scuttled away from him, hands and feet scrabbling frantically against the wooden floor in a way that might have been seemed comical if he had not looked so terrified.

"Don't come near me!" Aric shouted.

"What's wrong, Aric?" Takeshi asked, feeling puzzled and hurt. Ignoring his lover's words, he moved closer and reached out to touch Aric's shoulder, trying to calm and soothe him.

Aric slapped his hand away and scrambled backwards until he could go no farther, his back pressed up against the wall. "Don't touch me!" he snapped. "I told you not to come near me!"

"Why?" Takeshi asked, his eyes filling with tears. "What have I done wrong?" Had he pushed too hard, too fast, perhaps overestimating Aric's ability to accept his attraction to someone of the same gender? But that didn't really make sense; by his own admission, Aric had experimented with boys at Durmstrang, and the Slytherins tended to be a little jaded about such things. Sleeping with someone of the same sex wasn't a problem, so long as it didn't interfere with the need to make a proper marriage alliance. And Aric had willingly given up the heirship and his bride, and once he had gotten over the trauma of being turned, had seemed to be at peace with himself, and eager to begin his new life with Takeshi.

"Nothing," Aric said, his expression softening a little. "You didn't do anything wrong. Don't you see, it's not you, but me!" As Takeshi hesitantly reached out to touch him again, he shouted, "Don't! The wolf inside me is so strong, much stronger than it was during the full moon; I can't control it. Just now I almost bit you!"

"Oh, is that all?" Takeshi asked, feeling relieved. It wasn't something he had done, after all.

"What do you mean, is that all?" Aric shouted, beginning to grow a little angry. "Didn't you hear me? I'm a werewolf and I almost bit you!"

"But my love," Takeshi said reasonably, "you cannot turn me when you are in human form."

"That's not the point!" Aric said in frustration. "Just now I was thinking like a wolf, not a human!"

"Humans bite each other in loveplay, too, sometimes," Takeshi said, then gently teased, "I believe it's referred to as giving someone a hickey."

"It's not funny!" Aric snapped. "Even if I'm not contagious, I'm still stronger than a normal human! What if..." His voice shook. "What if I'd hurt you, Takeshi? I wanted to bite you, hard. I could have bitten right through your throat!"

"Oh, Aric," Takeshi said softly, all the amusement gone from his voice now. _Remus was having the "facts of life" talk with the wrong person,_ he thought ruefully. "Aric," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle and soothing, "I told you that the wolf's instincts would grow stronger with the full moon."

"But the full moon has passed!" Aric protested.

"There are other times when the wolf's instincts will grow dominant," Takeshi said. "When you or someone you love are in danger, for example. You saw Lukas transform into a wolf when Theodore attacked him, and I don't think it was just the spell that made him transform, although it was the trigger. He knew that Theodore wouldn't really hurt him. It was mostly his desire to protect you, his need to transform in order to save you. He was in his wolf form, Aric, but he was still able to control himself and only bite you, not kill you. Because he loves you."

"I'm not Lukas," Aric mumbled, staring down at the floor. "I can't control the wolf like he does."

"And the wolf's instincts will become stronger when it, ah, wants to mate," Takeshi continued. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, my love. I am part animal, too. Do you remember how I told you that I felt the crane's desire to be joined with its mate that night you came to me at the clinic?"

"That's different," Aric said sullenly. "A crane can't hurt anyone."

Takeshi smiled. "It's true that a crane is not as dangerous as a wolf, and that a crane would sooner flee from an attacker than fight one. But in crane form, my beak is very long and sharp, and I could do someone a serious injury if I wished."

"But not while you're human," Aric argued.

"I am not afraid of you, as man or wolf," Takeshi said patiently. "You need not fear the wolf's instincts, my love. A wolf would never hurt its mate."

He reached out to touch Aric again, laying his hand on Aric's chest. Aric shuddered at the touch, at the nearness of his lover's naked body, which only served to arouse the wolf further, and he desperately struggled against the mindless lust that threatened to overwhelm him, against the need to shove Takeshi down on the floor and take him right here and now, without any gentleness or romance. And he began to grow angry with his lover for brushing off his concerns and refusing to take him seriously.

"Come to bed, Aric," Takeshi whispered. "Make love to me. There is nothing to fear, I promise."

"The wolf doesn't want to make love to you," Aric said harshly. He deliberately made his next words crude, to try and make Takeshi realize just how much his wolf instincts had overpowered him. "It just wants to claim you, to fuck you, hard and fast, like an animal--" He broke off as Takeshi's face flushed, but not with embarrassment or revulsion. "My God!" Aric exclaimed, feeling even more horrified than before. "Does that excite you?"

"Yes," Takeshi said, meeting his eyes squarely. "Does that repulse you?" Aric looked away, and Takeshi reached out to cradle his lover's face in his hands, gently but firmly turning it back to face him. "I accept you, all of you, including the wolf. I want you as much as you want me."

"But this isn't how I wanted it to be," Aric said, fighting back tears. "I wanted our first time to be...well...special. I wanted to take my time and savor it, make love to you slowly and tenderly, not just rut like animals in heat."

"You're awfully romantic for a Slytherin, my dear," Takeshi said with a smile, but he was touched by Aric's words. Truly, as much as he loved Aric, he was a little surprised--but not displeased--to learn of his lover's romantic streak. On second thought, it should not have come as such a surprise, not after Aric had given him the jade bracelet and asked for the feather token in return. 

Still cradling Aric's face in his hands, Takeshi very lightly brushed his lips against Aric's. Even that faint caress was enough to make Aric moan and tremble. He could see Aric's muscles bunching and tensing beneath his skin, fighting to control the wolf, and Takeshi was momentarily distracted--Aric still had the body of an athlete, although he had not played Quidditch since coming to Hogwarts. All those Physical Defense lessons must have kept him in good shape; another thing to thank Lukas for.

Takeshi shook his head slightly to clear it; Aric was not the only one being ruled by his hormones right now. "There are times for tenderness and romance, and times for urgency and heated desire," Takeshi said softly. "Now is the time for urgency, but there will be times for tenderness in the future, I promise. I think perhaps it is because you are newly-turned, and this is our first time together, that the wolf's desires are so strong. You will find it easier to reconcile the wolf's nature with your own as time goes by."

"Are you sure?" Aric asked uncertainly, but with a pleading look in his eyes, wanting to believe Takeshi's words.

"Yes, my love," Takeshi replied, gently stroking his face. "Don't be afraid to give in to the wolf. Don't hate that part of yourself--or else you must hate me for desiring it."

"You...desire...the wolf?" Aric asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Takeshi said, continuing to stroke Aric's face, which seemed to soothe him. "I told you before that you have appeared in my dreams as a wolf." And he told Aric about that first dream, where the black wolf had turned into a man and made love to him with a wolf's ferocity.

Aric moaned and wrapped his arms around Takeshi, pulling him close. It felt so good, almost intoxicating, to feel Takeshi's warm skin and cool, silky hair beneath his hands. But still, he hesitated. "But what if I hurt you without meaning to? The wolf's strength--"

"You will not hurt me," Takeshi said firmly.

"But you don't know that," Aric argued.

"I do," Takeshi insisted. He took a deep breath, hoping that he wasn't making a mistake, then said, "I have been with a werewolf before, and I survived the experience intact."

"What?!" Aric cried. Someone--not just a man, but a werewolf, probably a wolf from his own pack--had made love to his mate before him! He had known that he was not Takeshi's first lover, but for some reason the knowledge that at least one of his former lovers had been a werewolf filled him with an insane, blinding jealousy. He wanted to tear his rival, whomever that might be, into pieces. 

"Who was it?" he snarled, and Takeshi began to look a little alarmed. Aric felt a twinge of guilt, and at the same time, a perverse sense of satisfaction at his lover's fear. _I told him the wolf was dangerous!_ He remembered Ash's admonishment not to break Takeshi's heart, and demanded, "Was it Ash?" 

"It doesn't matter," Takeshi said firmly, standing his ground although his face was a little pale. "I have had other lovers in the past, but I am with you now." Aric growled, and Takeshi said in a level voice, "I'm twenty-one years old, Aric, and I only met you last fall. I'm not a virgin and neither are you. Should I be jealous of those girls you said you slept with, or those boys you 'fooled around' with at Durmstrang?"

Aric flushed, his anger receding. "They didn't mean anything to me," he mumbled sheepishly. "You're the only one I've ever loved."

"My werewolf friends meant something to me, but I did not love them as I love you," Takeshi said.

"Friends?" Aric said, his jealousy flaring up again as he picked up on the plural word. "Just how many of them are there, anyway?"

Takeshi sighed, torn between irritation and amusement, but it was mostly his fault for bringing it up in the first place. He had only wanted to assure Aric that a werewolf wouldn't hurt his partner during lovemaking, but he should have realized how possessive a werewolf would be of his mate, although in the case of Remus and Professor Snape, it seemed to be Snape who was the possessive one in that relationship. "How many lovers have _you_ had, including the ones you 'fooled around' with?" he retorted.

Aric seemed taken aback by the question, and his eyes turned a little distant, focusing inward as if mentally counting in his head, "Uh...let's see..."

"Never mind," Takeshi laughed. "If you have to stop and think about it, I don't really want to know. I don't want to be jealous of your numerous lovers." Aric blushed, smiling sheepishly, and Takeshi smiled fondly back at him and stroked his cheek. "I have had exactly two werewolf lovers," he said in a quiet, even voice. "And no, I won't tell you who they were. We weren't really lovers, just friends who shared the comfort of our bodies to ease our loneliness. I never loved them, or rather, I only loved them as friends." 

He said earnestly, "Please, Aric, do not let your jealousy poison our relationship, or your bond with your packmates. Whatever happened between me and any past lover, human or werewolf, is long over. We have both had previous lovers, and to be honest, I don't really like the idea of you having been with someone else, either." Aric flushed again. "But all that is in the past now. I love you, Aric. You are my soulmate, my heart's desire. I have been waiting my entire life to find you, and from now on, I will be with you and no one else. You are all that I want."

"I'm sorry, 'Keshi," Aric whispered remorsefully. "I didn't mean to be such a git. I just went a little crazy there for a minute."

"It's all right," Takeshi assured him. "I think it was the wolf's instincts. I'll have to remember in the future how possessive how a werewolf can be." He smiled and kissed Aric. "So come and make love to me, my wolf. I am yours, and yours alone."

Aric returned the kiss, but Takeshi could still feel him holding back a little, trying to keep the wolf in check. He decided that he would need more than words to convince Aric that it was safe for them to make love, and that Takeshi truly did desire that wolfish side of him.

Aric was startled and a little worried when Takeshi pulled away from him without warning, but then the mediwizard climbed back up on the bed and crouched down on his hands and knees--oh sweet Merlin, on all fours, like a wolf waiting to be mounted. That broke his last shred of self-control, and he moaned wildly, jumped up onto the bed with one great leap that caused the bed to shake, grabbed Takeshi's hips to brace himself, and slammed into his lover with one swift, hard thrust.

Takeshi cried out, and Aric came to his senses, asking anxiously, "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"N-no," gasped Takeshi. "Please...don't stop!"

That was all the assurance Aric--or rather, his inner wolf--needed. He let long-denied passion and lust sweep over him, and resumed thrusting, hard and fast, his need too great, as he had warned Takeshi, for gentleness or finesse. But it didn't seem to matter; Takeshi cried out again, this time with such obvious pleasure that Aric could not mistake it for anything else. He laughed in relief and joy, relishing the sensation of finally being sheathed inside his mate's body, his flesh hot and tight around Aric, yet at the same time yielding and welcoming. Takeshi pushed back against him eagerly, urging him on. It felt so right, so perfect, how could he have ever doubted that Takeshi wanted him? How could he have ever imagined that he might hurt his mate, or that his beloved might be repulsed by him? His fears seemed silly and groundless now.

Takeshi cried out in pleasure as Aric thrust deeply into him. For someone who claimed to have little experience with men, each thrust seemed to unerringly strike the exact spot that sent surges of pleasure racing through his body, pleasure so intense that it caused his vision to blur, the way it might if he were staring directly into the sun. Maybe it was a natural instinct of the werewolf; Remus had never mentioned that in his little lecture! Eyes watering, Takeshi shoved his hips back to meet Aric's thrusts, moaning and crying out uncontrollably. Remus was right about one thing, though: it was very different with a lifemate than a casual lover. If he hadn't already been sure, the feeling of completion, of being made whole, along with the incredible pleasure he felt as Aric thrust into him, would have convinced Takeshi that he had found his dream lover. Nothing in his life had ever felt so good; none of his past lovers had ever made him feel this way, and even the dreams paled beside the real thing.

But as good as it felt to have his mate inside him, each thrust also sent a searing blaze of heat shooting straight through to his groin, causing his erection, which had flagged a bit during his attempt to calm down and reassure Aric, to begin throbbing again. It was a sweet and yet tormenting ache that caused him to moan in frustration. He reached up with his right hand to stroke himself, growing even more excited when he realized that he was living out the dream he'd had, and as if on cue, Aric growled softly into his ear as he had in the dream.

Aric growled softly as he saw Takeshi reach up, in a surreptitious manner, to touch himself. He glanced down to watch Takeshi's hand sliding up and down his growing erection, moving in time with Aric's thrusts. It excited him so much that he began thrusting even harder, with such force that it caused Takeshi to lose his balance and pitch forward, nearly falling on his face. He had to quickly drop his right hand back to the mattress to stop his fall.

Takeshi yelped in surprise, and Aric grinned apologetically and said, "Sorry." Then he growled, "Here, let me," in a low, gruff voice that sent a shiver running down Takeshi's spine, and he reached down to take over where Takeshi had left off.

Takeshi moaned loudly as Aric's hand closed around him and began roughly stroking him, shuddering under an onslaught of pleasure from within and without. He rocked back and forth, pushing back into Aric's thrusts and thrusting forward into his fist, and he didn't know which felt better. It all blurred together into an increasing spiral of ecstasy so intense that it was almost painful, and he wondered briefly if one could die from too much pleasure. Then he no longer cared, rational thought slipping away from him as he frantically begged Aric for more.

Takeshi was babbling in an incoherent mixture of English and Japanese, but it didn't really matter to Aric, who was too far gone to have understood him even if he had been speaking plain English. He had surrendered to the wolf, and the wolf understood that the urgency in its mate's voice meant "more," even if it didn't understand the actual words.

He thrust as hard and fast as he could, plunging in and out of his mate's body, panting and growling, desperately seeking release even as he wished that this moment could last forever. But he knew that he was close to climaxing, whether he willed it or not. Takeshi moaned, bowing his head forward, his long black hair spilling across the sheets, leaving the nape of his neck exposed. Without thinking, Aric leant forward and bit down hard on the back of Takeshi's neck as he thrust deeply into his mate.

Takeshi cried out, spilling his seed into Aric's hand, while his muscles clenched convulsively around Aric in an almost painful grip, and that was enough to send Aric over the edge, too, and he threw back his head and howled as he came.

Takeshi fell face-down the bed, limp and boneless like a rag doll, and Aric collapsed on top of him, panting and gasping for breath. It felt good to have his mate's body beneath him, and he wasn't inclined to move until he heard Takeshi make a muffled noise that sounded something like, "Mrmph," and he realized that his lover might be having a little difficulty breathing.

"Oops, sorry," Aric said apologetically, rolling off of Takeshi so that they were lying side-by-side instead. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm," Takeshi said, sighing contentedly.

Aric gently stroked the nape of Takeshi's neck, and the mediwizard sighed again. The bite had not broken the skin, but a dark bruise was beginning to form, marring his pale, smooth skin, and Aric tenderly kissed it in apology. "Sorry, 'Keshi," he murmured. 

"I'm not," Takeshi said, smiling as he turned to face Aric. "I told you that I wasn't afraid of the wolf. It felt good to have you claim me, as you did in my dream."

"Did I really do that in your dream?" Aric asked, gently nuzzling Takeshi's neck.

"Yes."

"And you liked it?"

"I came both times, as soon as you bit me," Takeshi whispered into his ear, and Aric shivered.

"But doesn't it hurt?"

"A little bit. But it feels good at the same time. Isn't sparring with Lukas sometimes painful?"

"Yes."

"But you feel a rush of adrenaline at the same time, and a sense of satisfaction afterwards."

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Aric acknowledged, grinning. "But it's not quite the same kind of satisfaction."

"I should hope not," Takeshi said, grinning back at him. "Because I refuse to share you with anyone, even your pack leader."

"Now who's the possessive one?" Aric laughed, wrapping his arms around Takeshi and kissing him.

They just lay there together, arms wrapped loosely around each other, and Aric began to doze off, feeling sated and content. But he immediately woke when he felt Takeshi sliding away from him, very slowly and carefully easing out from under Aric's arms.

"Hey, where are you going?" Aric demanded sleepily, wrapping an arm around Takeshi's waist and pulling him back.

"Sorry, I thought you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you," Takeshi said. "I was going to take a bath."

"Now?" Aric asked, frowning. "What for?"

"Well, for one thing, I am rather sticky and sweaty."

Aric held him more tightly and inhaled deeply, drinking in the rich, musky odor of sweat and semen mingled with herbs and mint, and beneath it all, Takeshi's own scent, hard to define in human terms, yet unmistakable to the wolf. Perhaps it might seem a little ripe to a normal human, but to the wolf, it was heavenly. He also liked that he could smell himself on Takeshi's skin, and Takeshi's scent on himself. He didn't want his mate to wash all those combined scents away. "You smell good," he said dreamily, without thinking, then blushed as he realized what he had said. "Sorry, does that sound a little weird?"

"Not at all, love," Takeshi said, kissing him lightly. "I'm glad that you're beginning to enjoy your wolf senses rather than fear them."

"So forget the bath and stay here," Aric urged, then frowned as Takeshi squirmed restlessly in his embrace. "What, do I smell bad to you or something?"

"Oh no, it's not that," Takeshi hastened to assure him.

"Then stay," Aric said. He felt sticky and sweaty himself, but he didn't care; it felt so good to be lying here, holding Takeshi in his arms. 

"Why don't you come take a bath with me?" Takeshi suggested.

"I'm perfectly comfortable," Aric replied.

"That's because you're not lying on the wet spot," Takeshi said with a wry smile.

"Oh!" Aric exclaimed, his face turning beet red, and he looked so mortified that Takeshi burst into laughter. "I'm so sorry!" Aric apologized, reaching for Takeshi's wand on the nightstand, which was closer than his own wand, which lay on the floor inside the pocket of his robes. "Why don't we just cast a cleaning spell?"

"I...want...a...bath," Takeshi said stubbornly, pausing between each word for emphasis. His lower lip thrust out just a little, and Aric kissed it. He had never seen the mild-mannered mediwizard look so mulish before, but he did look kind of cute when he pouted.

"But the bed is so nice and comfy," Aric cajoled. "We can clean up in a few seconds with a quick spell."

"But if we shower together, you can rub soap all over my body, and vice versa," Takeshi purred.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Aric said eagerly, jumping up in bed. Another part of him jumped up as well, despite having been flaccid and spent a moment ago.

Takeshi giggled, and reached out to fondle him with light, teasing strokes of his fingers, making Aric shudder and moan. "Remus wasn't lying about a werewolf's stamina," Takeshi said musingly. 

"What?!" Aric cried, shock temporarily overcoming lust. "Is _that_ what you were talking about in the kitchen?"

Takeshi giggled again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He said he wanted to tell me about the facts of life, werewolf style. He wanted to warn me not to be afraid if you bit me, because that is part of the wolf's need to mark and claim its mate. And he wanted to warn me that werewolves have incredible stamina, and are particularly insatiable near the full moon. Poor Professor Snape; Remus must completely wear him out. I wonder, have you ever noticed if he looks exhausted right before the full moon?"

"You talked about his and Snape's sex life?" Aric asked in horror.

"Just in context," Takeshi replied blithely. "Remus says..." He whispered into Aric's ear.

_"How_ many times in one night?!" Aric exclaimed. "Even assuming that a werewolf is capable of that, is Snape superhuman or something?"

"Well, Remus says that--"

"Never mind," Aric interrupted hastily. "I don't really want to know. Thinking about Snape having sex makes me a little ill." Indeed, his erection was already beginning to wilt at the thought.

"Well, never mind," Takeshi said consolingly. "We can experiment for ourselves." He grinned impishly. "Consider it scholarly research on werewolf mating habits."

"Are you expecting me to live up to Lupin's standards?" Aric asked warily.

"I'm not sure that I'd still be able to walk afterwards if you did," Takeshi laughed. "Come on, let's go take a bath."

Aric followed Takeshi to the bathroom, which contained both a small shower stall and a large tub. "My father had the bathroom remodeled, so that I could have a proper tub," he said with an air of satisfaction. "We had to pay a bribe--excuse me, a 'security deposit'--to the landlord in order to get him to allow the renovations, but it was worth it." He turned on the faucets and began to fill the tub with steaming hot water.

"Are we going to bathe or be boiled?" Aric asked, eyeing the water dubiously.

"A hot soak is good for you," Takeshi said dismissively, as if stepping into near-boiling water (at least, that was how it seemed to Aric) was no big deal. "But we can let it cool off a bit while we shower."

"Shower?" Aric asked in confusion. "Then why are you filling the tub?"

"Sorry, I almost forgot that you do things differently in England," Takeshi said. "You know, that was one of the hardest things about going to Hogwarts for so many years, although I did enjoy my time there for the most part--having to take showers instead of a proper bath. But after I became a prefect in fifth year, I got to use the prefects' bathroom, which is pretty luxurious." Aric just stared at him blankly, and Takeshi patiently explained, "In Japan, the point of a bath is not just to get clean, but to relax at the end of the day. You're supposed to wash off first, then soak in the tub. It's important to keep the water clean, because usually other members of the family will use the same bathwater. Of course, it's just the two of us here, so I suppose that it doesn't really matter, but who wants to sit and soak in dirty water?"

Aric just shrugged. To him, there was little point in sitting in a tub of water after you were already clean. Sure, sometimes it was nice to sit and soak in a hot bath when your muscles were sore, say, after a Quidditch match or fencing practice, but for the most part, he preferred to shower quickly and be done with it. In fact, a cleaning spell would do in a pinch, although it didn't get you as clean as a bath or shower. But this seemed to be important to Takeshi for some reason, so he was willing to humor his lover. After all, there was no harm in taking a bath he didn't really need, if it made Takeshi happy.

So Aric stepped into the shower, which was pretty cramped with both of them in it, but he didn't really mind, because it was a good excuse for them to soap and lather each other's bodies. His wilting erection quickly regained new life as Takeshi stroked him with slippery, soapy hands, and then before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed Takeshi up against the shower wall and was thrusting into him. It took just three quick thrusts before he came. 

_So much for werewolf stamina!_ he thought, feeling somewhat chagrined. Then he pulled out and stared at Takeshi, who remained leaning against the wall, panting a little, the water that was still spraying out of the shower head sluicing away the semen that was running down his thighs.

"I'm sorry," Aric said, in a quiet, subdued voice, suddenly aware that he hadn't bothered to prepare his lover or even ask his consent. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to just shove you up against the wall like that--"

Takeshi smiled and laid a finger across Aric's lips to still his apologies. "It's all right, my wolf. I think you know from experience that I know how to deal with unwanted advances." Aric grinned ruefully, remembering the way he had been violently flung into the wall during his last visit to the clinic. "So you may be sure," Takeshi continued, grinning back at him, "that your advances are most welcome this time."

Aric smiled in relief. "Well, okay, then. But that can't have been, uh, very satisfying for you. Do you want me to...?"

"Although I enjoyed your attentions, I do not have a werewolf's stamina, my love," Takeshi laughed. "But perhaps we can try again later, after I've had a chance to relax. And soak."

So they finished washing each other, their caresses now more playful than seductive, with much laughing and giggling, then rinsed off and stepped out of the shower.

Takeshi motioned for Aric to step into the tub first, which he did very gingerly, as there were still a few wisps of steam rising from the water. The water was still hot enough to make him wince slightly as he eased himself down, but it was tolerable.

Takeshi watched him with great amusement. "You have no fear of flying Bludgers, and you and Lukas seem to take great pleasure in beating on each other with big wooden sticks in Defense class, but a little hot water is enough to make you cringe?"

"I'm a werewolf, not a lobster," Aric grumbled. "Quit yapping and get in here; it was your idea to take a bath, after all."

"You might be rather tasty with a little lemon and butter," Takeshi teased, but he climbed into the tub, sitting in front of Aric. The tub was just big enough for one person to stretch their legs out in front of them comfortably, but like the shower, it was a bit cramped for two. But again, he didn't really mind the close quarters when it was Takeshi who was sharing them with him. Aric leaned back against the tub, spreading his legs apart so that Takeshi could nestle between them and lean back against Aric's chest, and then Aric loosely folded his arms around his lover.

Takeshi let out a sigh of contentment, snuggling a little closer to Aric, long tendrils of his hair floating on the surface of the water like some kind of exotic seaweed. Aric sighed as well, as his body began adjusting to the temperature of the water. The heat really did feel good as it slowly seeped into his body, all the way to the bone it seemed, relaxing muscles he hadn't realized were tense. They sat there in the tub, in a daze of blissful contentment, for how long Aric wasn't exactly sure, but long enough for his fingertips to begin to wrinkle slightly. And then he gradually became aware of how good it felt to have Takeshi's body resting against his, his back flush against Aric's chest, his rump (and a very nice, shapely rump it was, too) resting against Aric's crotch. And that realization returned a little tension to his body--concentrated in the latter area, of course.

Takeshi lay back against Aric's chest, eyes closed, the heat of the water and the closeness of his mate having lulled him into a near-stupor. And then he abruptly woke from his daze when he felt something hard nudging at him, sliding between his buttocks.

"A-Aric?" he stammered, then moaned as he felt Aric's hands sliding up and down his chest, lightly brushing and teasing his nipples. Maybe Remus was right about the wolf's desire being contagious. He felt an almost uncontrollable urge to push backwards and impale himself on the hardness he felt pressing against him, although he knew that it would hurt without any lubrication.

Aric moaned as he felt Takeshi squirming against him, and quickly pushed him away before the wolf could take over again. "Not here," he gasped. "Not yet. I don't want to hurt you." He still had enough control to joke, "Besides, I thought you didn't want to get the water dirty."

"Ha ha, very funny," Takeshi said, quickly clambering out of the tub; Aric admired the way that droplets of water were running down his body. Meanwhile, Takeshi threw down a couple of thick, fluffy towels onto the floor.

"Don't you want to go back to bed?" Aric asked as he climbed out of the tub.

"No," Takeshi replied, reaching into the medicine cabinet. "I can't wait."

Aric chuckled and slipped his arms around Takeshi, embracing him from behind and nuzzling his neck. "Which of us is the werewolf?"

"I told you that my crane blood is ruled by instinct, too," Takeshi said impatiently.

"And how is a crane's stamina compared to a werewolf's?" Aric asked.

"I don't know," Takeshi replied. "The crane folk don't discuss such things, or at least I haven't met one as open as Remus. As for myself, I thought my stamina was more or less normal, until I met you. Here." He shoved a jar into Aric's hands.

"What is this?" Aric asked, twisting the lid open, and the scent of lavender wafted out, answering his question, although Takeshi still replied, "Healing salve." The scent was diluted by the other ingredients, though, and was not too strong for the wolf's sensitive nose.

Aric dipped his hand in the salve, and it tingled slightly against his skin. "Isn't this supposed to numb the area it's applied to?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's very mild," Takeshi replied, then looked down pointedly at Aric's conspicuous erection. Besides, I doubt that it will hinder you very much or for very long, considering that this is our third time in one night. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Did you want to try and break Snape and Lupin's record?" Aric laughed; the idea no longer seemed quite so impossible.

"Not yet," Takeshi said, smiling. "But perhaps we can work up to it."

They lay down together on the towels, and Aric began working his fingers inside Takeshi, with much more skill and confidence this time around. Takeshi moaned and sighed with pleasure. Takeshi had not slept with anyone in months, aside from that one night with Ash, and even that had been three months ago, and Aric had been a most enthusiastic and vigorous lover. Takeshi had been feeling just a little sore after their lovemaking, although also satiated and pleased, and he had not wanted to say anything to Aric, fearing that he might overreact. 

But now he felt Aric's fingers working the cool salve into his flesh, soothing any lingering soreness. The salve was very effective--as Takeshi knew; he had brewed it himself, after all--and more than capable of healing a bit of chafing. Aric would have forgone another round of lovemaking if he had asked, of course, but Takeshi didn't want to wait. He wanted his mate, and he wanted him now. He wondered just how much of this seemingly unquenchable desire came from his crane blood and how much came from Aric's wolf blood, but he decided that it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they loved each other. Anything else was icing on the cake.

Aric smiled, licking his lips at the sight of Takeshi writhing on the bathroom floor. He found that it was easier to control the wolf this time, perhaps because it was somewhat sated from their two previous encounters. Takeshi's body seemed relaxed from their earlier lovemaking, or perhaps it was the long soak in the bath, but in any case, he was soon moaning, "Please, Aric, I want you now," and Aric was more than happy to oblige.

Takeshi started to roll over onto his hands and knees, but Aric stopped him. "No," he said quietly. "I want to see your face this time." And maybe this time there would be time for tenderness. Takeshi smiled at him, rolled onto his back, and spread his legs wide, causing Aric to groan and think to himself, _Well, then again, maybe not!_

Remembering the illustrations from Theo's book, Aric pulled Takeshi's legs up over his shoulders and slowly pushed into him. Merlin, it felt so good! He felt a brief urge to slam into his mate hard and fast as he had done before, but he forced himself to continue moving slowly, and his inner wolf acquiesced with a slightly grudging growl.

Firmly in control now, Aric was determined to savor the moment, and it was Takeshi who moaned impatiently this time. Grinning wickedly, he teased his lover with slow, shallow thrusts, deliberately stopping short of where Takeshi obviously wanted them to go. Takeshi moaned in frustration and tried to push his hips up and shove Aric into him deeper, but Aric firmly grasped him by the hips and held him in place, so that he couldn't move no matter how much he squirmed or struggled. Aric continued moving in those teasing, shallow strokes until Takeshi began cursing at him in Japanese--well, at least he assumed it was Japanese, since he didn't speak the language. And he assumed that Takeshi was merely swearing and not hexing him, since he didn't go flying across the room or turn into a toad.

"Tsk, tsk, such language," Aric chided. "Well, actually I don't speak Japanese, but I assume from the tone of your voice that you're saying something rather rude." Takeshi cursed again and clawed at Aric's back, causing Aric to hiss sharply, and he nearly lost control for a moment, but managed to reign himself back in. "You'll have to do better than that, my dear," he whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips against Takeshi's. "Your nails are so short that they barely tickle." 

"You're an evil Slytherin, Aric," Takeshi groaned.

"Why, thank you," Aric replied with a grin. Takeshi struggled wildly, trying to buck his hips upwards, but Aric maintained a firm grip on them. As Takeshi resumed cursing at him, Aric reminded him, "You were the one who wanted me to accept the wolf. And I've found that werewolf strength does come in very handy, after all."

Takeshi was almost ready to scream at Aric, and in fact, was about to do so when he suddenly remembered something. "Oh shit."

"Such language," Aric scolded mildly, raising his eyebrows, not so much for the swear word, although it was unusual to hear it coming out of Takeshi's mouth, but because it didn't seem to be directed at him.

"I didn't put a silence spell on the bathroom," Takeshi said.

"Want me to go get my wand?" Aric offered.

"No!" Takeshi said, bending his knees and tightening his grip on Aric's shoulders, trying to hold him in place. "We can be quiet; just try not to howl." Then he said, leering a little, "Show me just how well you can use your wand, Aric Dietrich."

"Ooh, I think I like it when you talk dirty, 'Keshi," Aric said, grinning.

"How about doing something more than talk?" Takeshi retorted.

Aric pushed partway into Takeshi and then stopped, holding himself very still. In truth, he was on the verge of breaking down, but he did so enjoy the increasingly desperate noises that his lover was making, more whimpering than moaning, as he was biting his lip, obviously trying to keep his voice down so that the neighbors wouldn't hear them. It was almost as delicious as those mewling kitten noises he had made earlier. And he loved the pleading look in Takeshi's eyes, and the almost palpable aura of need that was emanating from him. That was what he savored most, that his mate needed and desired him so much.

"Damn you, Aric!" Takeshi whispered fiercely, glaring at him. "Just fuck me already!"

Aric raised his eyebrows again, pretending to be shocked. Actually, he didn't really need to pretend very much. He'd never heard the always polite, mild-mannered mediwizard swear like that before, not even when he had rightfully been furious with Aric, that night he had come to the clinic drunk. And finally, Aric relented. "I won't fuck you," he whispered tenderly. "But I will make love to you." And he pushed into Takeshi, slowly but deeply, until he was sheathed to the hilt in his mate's body.

Takeshi had willingly played along with Aric at first, enjoying the anticipation that was building. But his frustration and need quickly built to the point where he was seriously considering hexing Aric right through the wall. The only things that stopped him were that first of all, he'd have to pay for the repairs to the wall, and more importantly, Aric would hardly be in any shape to make love to him if he were knocked unconscious. Although werewolves did heal very quickly...

But then Aric finally did move into him, with a slow, deep thrust that made Takeshi sob with pleasure, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be quiet. "Shhh," Aric whispered, laying a finger across Takeshi's lips, his eyes glinting mischievously. And then Aric continued moving in slow, deep thrusts, with such profound tenderness that it dramatically emphasized the difference between "making love" and mere sex. It was amazing how something could be so gentle and so intense at the same time. He looked up to see his mate smiling down at him, with such sheer, unadulterated love in his eyes that it brought tears to Takeshi's own eyes.

"I told you that I wanted our first time to be special," Aric whispered. "But I'll settle for our third."

"A time for urgency," Takeshi whispered, remembering what he'd told Aric earlier. "And a time for tenderness and romance."

"Well, I was picturing a more romantic setting than the bathroom," Aric said with an affectionate grin. "But this will do. Maybe next time we'll add some flowers and candles."

"Are you sure those romance books were Remus's and not yours?" Takeshi teased, then gasped as Aric thrust into him a little harder. And soon neither of them were capable of speech; Aric was panting and growling as he thrust into his mate, and Takeshi was biting down hard on his own fist in an attempt to stifle his moans and cries of pleasure.

Aric suddenly paused as Takeshi moaned in protest. Aric pulled Takeshi's hand out of his mouth, gently caressing the deep tooth-marks he'd left embedded in the skin. "Don't," he said gruffly. "You'll hurt yourself. Here." And he offered his own hand instead.

"But--" Takeshi started to protest.

Aric gave him a wolfish grin. "I heal quickly, remember?"

"But..."

"Merlin's Beard," Aric said impatiently. "Do you want to get on with this, or would you rather argue all night?"

Takeshi laughed and gave in. "All right, since you put it so romantically, my love." They resumed their lovemaking, which rapidly grew more urgent and frenzied, yet somehow still retained that quality of tenderness. And then with one especially hard, deep thrust, Takeshi felt his mate come inside him, and then he was coming too, biting down hard on Aric's hand to muffle his cry of ecstasy. 

Aric was crouched over him, mouth wide open, panting desperately. Takeshi idly observed that he was definitely beginning to develop wolflike fangs, and he was impressed that Aric had been able to keep himself from howling. He released Aric's hand from his mouth, then smiled and tilted his head back, offering up his throat to his mate. "Take me, my wolf," he murmured, and felt an exhilarating rush of pleasure-pain as Aric sank his teeth into Takeshi's throat, which did not quite stifle the werewolf's joyous howl.

"I think the neighbors still might have heard that," Aric said afterwards, as they lay together on the bathroom floor in each other's arms.

"It's all right," Takeshi said, too contented to care at the moment. "Let them gossip. Besides, they know I'm a mediwizard." He grinned and trailed his fingers down Aric's arm. "I'll tell them I'm treating a werewolf, which is true enough."

"So what do you prescribe for a werewolf's insatiable lust?" Aric asked, nibbling on Takeshi's earlobe.

"Lots and lots of sex with his mate," Takeshi sighed, snuggling against Aric's chest.

"Sounds good to me," Aric said, and they just held each other for a couple of minutes. Then he grinned mischievously and said, "Want to take a bath?"

Takeshi groaned good-naturedly. "I'm not sure that I can handle another bath, considering what the last one led to."

"But you're all sticky and sweaty," Aric teased. "You know, I really like this bath thing. I think it's a very good idea."

"I can see a vicious cycle emerging," Takeshi laughed. "Sex leads to a bath, which leads to more sex, which leads to another bath..."

"And this is a bad thing?" Aric asked, still grinning.

"I love you dearly, my wolf," Takeshi said, kissing him. "But my body doesn't recover as quickly as yours, and I would like to be able to walk tomorrow morning."

"Ah well," Aric sighed in mock-regret. "Then how about we skip the bath, just this once, and go straight to bed? To sleep, that is."

"Sounds good," Takeshi said, then yelped in surprise and laughed as Aric scooped him up into his arms.

"No walking required," Aric said playfully, and carried his mate to bed. He made a point of casting a cleaning spell on the sheets, which made Takeshi laugh again, then they turned out the lights and slipped under the covers together. Aric pulled his mate into his arms, breathing in his scent. He could still smell their recent lovemaking on his skin, as well as a hint of lavender and a clean, soapy scent. Yes, Aric decided, despite his earlier objections, a bath was a very good thing indeed.

A low growl of contentment escaped his lips, and he smiled to himself. Who would ever have thought that being bitten by a werewolf would turn out to be a blessing instead of a curse? It had hurt to lose the affection of his parents and grandparents, but it had strengthened his relationship with Erika and Theo, and it had brought him a new family and new friends, in the form of Lukas and his pack, and Lupin and the Slytherins and even the irritable, sour-faced Potions Master. And most of all, it had brought him his mate, the person he treasured most in the world.

"I love you, Takeshi," he whispered drowsily.

"I love you, too, Aric," Takeshi murmured. Then he asked, a little wistfully, "Will you let me stay with you during the next full moon?"

"Of course," Aric replied without hesitation, and Takeshi smiled at him warmly.

"Good," he said, tenderly stroking Aric's face. "I can't wait to see you. I'm sure you'll be a beautiful wolf."

"Will you let me watch you transform again sometime?" Aric asked. "I would love to watch you fly." Then it was his turn to smile wistfully. "That must be an amazing feeling."

"It is," Takeshi said. "I can't do it where people might see, of course; people would think it odd to see a crane flying over London. But when we go to visit my brother, when we are safe in the haven of the crane folk, I will show you." He yawned widely. "But for now, let us sleep, my wolf."

"Okay. Goodnight, 'Keshi."

"Goodnight, Aric."

And that night Aric dreamed that he was a wolf running beneath the open sky, howling joyously at the full moon while a beautiful white crane flew above him.


End file.
